Fearing Day

• Scott Bruno, Grade 8
• Short Story
• 2009

I feel the life drain out of her. The blood is warm and sweet as it runs down my throat. I stare at the lifeless corpse in my arms, two pinpricks in her now pale neck will strike fear into the hearts of the villagers here. My black heart is delighted at the thought. But my smile fades, I was never like this. I frown, then let the body fall. It thuds dully onto the alleyway pavement.
I walk on. Lamplight glistens on my jet black hair. Staring faces are reflected in my pitch black eyes, but I don’t care. All these people are prey to me. I walk past the gates; the guards cower at the dark emanating from me. They see me, the cold stranger. They know what I am so they let me pass, not meeting my black eyes. I see the forest ahead of me silhouetted against the moonlight. I will myself to change, bending my shape with my mind. I fall; my fingers extend, my ears and nose enlarge into thin leaves. My face elongates into a snout, fur sprouts from my cold pale skin, my fangs turn to sabres. My eyes turn blood red and shine in the darkness.
I let out a bone chilling screech that is heard by families huddling in the corners of their homes. I stretch my massive wings and take off into the night kicking up dust in my wake.
I feel the wind through my short coat beating against my leathery wings. I cry out again, I feel connected. I can hear the footsteps of insects, the falling of leaves. I am a lord, a lord of all this. This place is my domain and everything silently obeys. They all fear me; they fear he who strides among the stars. I stare down at the landscape, surveying my land. Waves lap hungrily at rocky shores. Livestock slumber in stables. All is quiet. I feel all predatory, cold instincts ebb away as I glide through the night, but I see the grass more clearly now. The landscape is being painted pink as the rippling waves light up. I roar my heart out, frustrated. I must leave the night which I am master of, it is being taken from me.
But I feel a small part of me; one lost for many a year, mourn, and it sweeps over me.
I would so dearly love to see the sun again.