Thursday, September 3, 2009

To Be A Monster pt. 3 (written by Jezzy Wolfe)



"Mffmmm," Billy mumbled. He squirmed under the covers like a caterpillar in a cocoon.

"Come on, you grunt, get up!" She dodged a comic book that catapulted at her head. It bounced off the door jamb and landed at her feet. A hunched werewolf graced its cover. "I'll drag your ass if I have to."

Billy sat up on one elbow, squinting at her. "Have you been smoking crack? I ain't goin' anywhere with you. Mom and Dad will kill us and I ain't got no death wish. Leave me alone." He fell back on the mattress and pulled a pillow over his face.

Cheryl considered holding the pillow down.

No, that freaky-ass bird wants me to bring Billy to the graveyard. Fuckin’ A! She leaned against the doorway, racking her brain. What could she use to lure Billy out of the house? The damn kid didn't care about anything except baseball, comic books, and the stupid cat.

Taffy.

She tiptoed through the hall to her parents' room, though the surround sound buzz of snores covered her footsteps. Taffy usually slept on her Mom's feet. Lucky for her, both parents slept under the influence of Ambien. She peeked in the room.

Sure enough, there on her mother’s feet like a spewed hairball lay Taffy. The cat's yellow eyes opened slightly, revealing yellow slits that locked in on her. As she approached the foot of the bed, it flattened its ears and a low growl replaced its purr.

"Here, kitty kitty," Cheryl crooned.

Taffy whined and hissed. As she reached for the fat fur ball, it screeched and bolted from the bed, shooting out of the room so fast it threw her off balance. She barely avoided falling on her mom's legs. Punching the air in lieu of a frustrated scream, she trailed the beast through the house.

"Damn cat, where the hell are you?" She sang softly as she searched under the couch in the living room, Taffy's favorite place to hide. "I'm not gonna hurt you."

A smelly breeze whizzed by her head. She stood too quickly and tripped over the coffee table. "Okay, so let me re-phrase that...I won't kill you." She perched on the couch and waited. Taffy would inevitably pass her again, and when she did...

A bundle of fur rounded the corner of the sofa and zoomed past, but Cheryl's lightening fast reflexes went into action. She snagged the cat by its tail, wrestling it into submission, despite its flailing claws. A few scratches were not gonna stand between her and her ultimate goal. Once she transformed, Taffy would be nothing more than a snack.

But for now, Taffy's fate was merely a night outdoors. She opened the front door and dumped the cat on the porch. They stared each other down until Taffy relented, hunched her back, hissed dramatically, and stalked off the steps. The bait was set.

Billy slept with the pillow still covering his head. Cheryl toyed again with the notion of smothering his pesky ass, but aside from the raven's explicit demands, she didn't relish the idea of carrying his dead weight to the graveyard. She pulled the pillow off his face and shook his shoulder.

"Wake up Billy, it’s an emergency! Taffy got out of the house. I need to get her inside, but she won't come to me."

"That's cause you're so mean to her." Billy pulled the comforter over his head.

Cheryl sighed, growing impatient as she tugged it back down. "Yeah, I know. But I'm worried about her. I saw a raccoon out there earlier. She could get hurt."

Billy shot up immediately, springing out of bed. He grabbed a baseball bat and shoved his feet into his sneakers. "Raccoons have rabies!"

"I know!" Cheryl smiled, but when Billy met her gaze she drew her eyebrows together and rung her hands. "I hope we find her in time!"

"Well, come on, slowpoke!" He didn't bother to grab a jacket. Instead, he bolted out the front door before Cheryl made it through the living room.


***


"She's over here, Billy!" Cheryl led her brother away from the house, towards the cemetery. She waved wildly as he crawled from under a bush. He was so intent on rescuing Taffy that he didn't notice where they were until she coerced him through the iron gates.

He stopped in his tracks as she beckoned him from inside the entrance. "Are you sure? I don't know about this—it’s trespassing."

"So?"

"We'll get in big trouble."

"Then blame Taffy! But if she get’s away again…" Cheryl said dramatically. “Did you know if a cat gets bitten by a rabid raccoon, they shoot it on sight? They don’t even check it first.”

So gullible. His big eyes watered and he wiped his nose on his blue flannel pajama sleeve. She almost felt sorry for him right then.

Don’t you want to be a werewolf? Anything worth having is worth the sacrifice. She pulled her shoulders back and recovered her determination. He was, after all, her payment. Soon I will be unstoppable!

“I think I hear her. Follow me,” she said. Retreating to the shadows, she listened for the sound of Billy's sneakers close behind as he crushed fallen leaves and twigs in his pursuit. "Come quick, Billy! I got her cornered!"

Cheryl sat in front of Gwen’s grave as Billy emerged from the trees. He froze.

"Look what I found." Patting the ground beside her, she said, "Have a seat, little brother. Wanna see Gwen?"

"Gwen's dead, you idiot," he snapped. Suddenly his skin drained and his eyes widened. Pointing to something over her shoulder, he whispered, "What's th-that?"

She glanced behind her, and saw the raven perched on Gwen's tombstone. "Just a bird." She shrugged.

"It's creepy. Make it go away."

"Don't be a baby, Billy. It's harmless. More afraid of you than you are of it." She swatted her hand at the raven, but the damn thing snapped at her finger. “Hey! What’s the big idea?”

"Now now, my dear, this is not the time for games. You are almost ready for your induction. Bring him closer so the ceremony may commence." Its eyes glowed red as it rustled its wings impatiently.

"Shh!" Cheryl hissed. "Are you crazy? Don't tell him that! He'll run away!"

"Who the hell are you talking to?" Billy clenched the bat with both hands, taking one step in her direction. His eyes were twice their normal size and she could see the bat trembling across his shoulder.

"He cannot hear me, dear. I was summoned here at your bidding. By your desire do I orchestrate, and only your ears are tuned to the correct frequency."

“Uh, hate to break this to you, Bird Brain, but I didn’t summon you.”

“Indeed? And what of the blood you shed? Such powerful lust is hard to misinterpret.”

“But that’s not why I killed Gwen!”

“You killed Gwen?!” Billy’s voice was a prepubescent squeak. “I’m telling Mom! You’re gonna be in so much trouble!”

“Billy, wait!” Cheryl jumped to her feet as he stumbled back.

He swung the bat twice, so fast it hummed. “You’re crazy! Stay away from me!”

“It is time,” the raven called. “You know what to do now.”

Billy bolted, disappearing into the shadows, forcing Cheryl to give chase. A sharp stabbing pain lanced her chest as she charged after him. I really need to start exercising, she mused. The air thickened as her hands closed over his shoulders. So thin and fragile in her palms, like the wishbone on a Thanksgiving turkey.

I could rip him in half.

She pulled him against her chest and wrestled the bat from his grip. He screamed as he struggled against her.

“Shut up, you little asshole! Someone might hear you!”

“Good! Poli-”

She clamped her hand over his mouth. Leaning close to his ear, she whispered, “Calm down and listen, will you?” He stopped squirming and she uncovered his mouth. “ I didn’t kill Gwen.”

“But you said…”

“You take everything so literally! Damn, lighten up already!” She loosened her hold and he shrugged out of her arms. “You need to relax,” she snapped.

“You need to get your head checked, you psycho!” He lunged for the bat.

“Uh-uh, tough guy. I don’t think so.” Cheryl rested the bat on her shoulder. “It's not polite to hit your sister.”

“It’s not polite to kill your cousin!"

Billy turned to run, but this time Cheryl anticipated his move. She snagged his elastic waistband and he toppled over as his flannel bottoms wrapped around his knees, pulling her off balance. The ground shifted and lurched, and she fell, losing hold of the bat.

She was stronger and bigger and could easily overpower her brother, but he was faster.

The raven’s voice cut through the trees, chanting the familiar verse with lilting rhythm:

“Blood, it calls for blood.
Through thick, through thin
The Centuries’ crawl begins…”


***


Warmth woke her. Not just any warmth, but the delicious sensation of laying directly in the sunlight naked. Cheryl moaned, stretching lazily, and relaxed. She cracked open her eyes.

Her bedroom ceiling had been replaced by a crisp blue sky. The glaring light stung her eyes. Shielding them with the back of her hand, she pushed up on one elbow. She was laying in thick manicured grass. Limestone and marble markers all but glowed in the daylight, jutting out of the ground around her at displaced angles. Rusty burgundy smudges painted many of the tombstones, trailing drips pooled in the grooved letters. A rotting metallic odor assaulted her nostrils, forcing her stomach to flip-flop with nausea. I think I’m gonna be sick.

She sat up and winced as a sharp pain squeezed her skull. Her arms and legs protested with throbbing aches. Eyes clenched tight, she sat still until everything quit spinning. God, I feel like I died. What the fuck happened? Looking down, she realized she was completely naked.

And covered in blood.

She yelped and searched the ground around her, but her clothes were gone. Breathing deep to fight down the vomit bubbling in her throat, she crawled on all fours. Encountering strangers while she ran around a cemetery bloody and naked was not an idea she particularly relished. Mercifully, the cemetery appeared deserted.

In her disoriented and queasy condition, she didn’t realize she was clutching something in her hand until she pulled herself up against a granite cross.

It was a scrap of bloodied blue flannel.

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