Nightly Howls

by Madeline Blake

  Nightly Howls

  Madeline Blake

  Copyright © 2017 by Madeline Blake

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

  For permission requests and suggestions write to the author at the address below.

  maddyblake.publishing@gmail.com

  Contents

  The Disruptive Starting Point

  Have You Ever Met a Hot Psycho?

  Have You Ever Been Stalked by a Hot Psycho?

  Why Does This Blue-Haired Idiot Attract So Much Attention?

  The Pack of Players

  The Damsel In Distress… Again

  Was Being Kidnapped Ever a Good Thing?

  A Life Without Steak

  The Trophy Men

  Betrayal

  Loved by Death

  People Are Like Ants

  Party Time

  Catch Me If You Can...

  Admirers Can Be More Frightening Than Your Worst Nightmare

  Runaways

  Puppy Love

  Why Does Everything Have to Be So Complicated?

  What. The. Crap.

  To Be or Not To Be...

  One's Dream, Another's Nightmare

  Like A Phoenix

  Something Smells Fishy

  Living in the Land of the Dead

  Short Nights, Endless Days

  Too Late to Back Down, Too Early to Give Up

  The Pursuit

  The Beginning, the End, and Everything in Between

  Choosing Life

  The After

  The Disruptive Starting Point

  The wind swirls around the bony girl, causing the rain to slap her cheeks. She is minuscule. Short and skinny. Her eyes a dazzling green that sparkle like emeralds. The thick glasses hide their natural beauty, with lenses that dull their vivid color. Her shoulder length red hair is startling. Even though it’s wavy and charming, its length gives her a childlike face to match her childlike body.

  She is sitting on the mud and her thin dress sticking to her wet skin as the rain pounds even more determinedly on her form. Thunder roars over her head, crackles of lightning striking the air. All she sees is darkness. For her, there is nothing but darkness.

  She knows she is in danger. The lightning is close, and if one tree catches on fire, the whole forest will burn. She has nowhere to hide if that happens, no one to call for help. Her cell phone lies beside her, dead from the constant downpour of water. Yet, she remains calm.

  Life is not important to her anymore.

  Her tears swim down her cheek, joining the rivers of water that rushes down her body. A living nightmare surrounds her, the terrible breeze slamming the rain into random destinations, the plants swaying. A tree is close to falling on her, leaning her way, precariously close to breaking away from its trunk.

  She barely notices that she is crying heavily, her crying accompanies the storm's efforts to make her as miserable as possible. She feels dirty, the mud giving her a sick feeling in her stomach. On a whim, she wishes for a hot shower, with warm steam embracing her.

  But she cannot move.

  She wants it to be over. Right there, in that moment. It would be so suiting to let the pains of life fade away. She wonders why she had to have the ugly face, the childlike form, and the snobby attitude that made so many people hate her.

  She cannot see. The rain has blinded her. Her glasses slide off her nose, falling to the ground and sinking into the dirt. The water starts to pour even harder from the hectic skies, temperature dropping by the second. She has got goosebumps on her entire body. Her breaths become visible, clouds appearing in wisps directly in front of her.

  She feels the cold worsening.

  She looks to the ground when a sliver of fear enters her thoughts. Is she ready to let herself die there?

  She realizes that she probably taking her last breaths. She tries to savor each of them, reaching with a delicate hand to try to catch the clouds that lingered before her.

  The thunder looms closer, the clouds overhead parting. Through the crack in the clouds, she can spot a full moon. She stares at it, awe searing through her at its beauty. The perfect circle illuminated by pure white light, the only incandescence in her world. The only symbol of hope she held dear.

  Without a warning, a hard rock pounds against her shoulder. She gasps in pain, her shoulder throbbing from the impact.

  The moon vanishes as the dark clouds steal it away from her.

  Another object lands on her knee, the same pain recurring. The girl remains in her position, pain etched in her face. She grabs the strange rock, holding it close to her eyes so she can see it.

  "Hail," she whispers as another rock comes hurtling towards her. It is big, about the size of a soda can and aimed for her head.

  She sees it coming, ready to deal the death blow. She is frozen. Death is finally here to take her away. This is what she wants, right? She should be happy. Deliverance from the pain, the endless suffering, is here.

  The fear is the thing that is taking away her happiness.

  There is a split silence, and then there is a howl in the night as the ice rock clamors to meet its destination.

  ***

  He can hear it. Its accelerated breathing pounds in his ears, signaling its close proximity. He ventures closer to the presence, the thing that dares to be in his territory at this time. It is terrible timing for the intruder, whatever it is, for tonight he is at his strongest.

  It is the night of the wolf.

  He is alone, but that is just perfect. He works better when alone.

  It sure is a horrible storm, the rain beating on his back, nearly causing him to collapse. He wonders why it is trying to trespass in this awful weather. The wind rips leaves from their perches on trees and throws them violently into the air, lightning flashing over his head. There is almost a constant roar, almost ruining his concentration. He shakes his head, trying to wave away the storm’s efforts to distract him. His paws crunch the grass beneath him as he treks deeper into the forest. Trees loom before him, casting their dark shadows over his furry form. Danger is in every direction. But he does not hesitate.

  He is fearless.

  The presence is growing stronger, the wind sending the scent to his nose. It is a sweet fragrance, one he has never smelt before; a curious mix of strawberries, bananas, some flavor he cannot distinguish, and a tiny splash of mint. It is a delight, an intoxicating smell that he will remember forever, even when this "it" is long dead. He has never experienced this aroma around a werewolf before.

  This smell is so sweet, he wonders if a human could have actually wandered into their midst. Humans generally have nice smells, although none as delightful as this one.

  He feels like something is... bonding him to this smell. A longing suddenly starts to fill him, a desire to edge closer to the source. This pull is unrelenting, and he feels himself falling even harder into the realm of lust. He begins to crave this curious smell, and his paws start to move by themselves. He does not need to track it, for something about the scent is guiding him straight towards it. He begins to think that this creature might be a difficult thing to kill.

  In fact, killing it might not even be an option, for he fears that if he does, he will lose his sanity.

  It already entices him, begs him to come closer. The smell invigorates him even more as he gets closer to his target, weaving a web around him until he will never be able to escape. He is the fly, and it is the spider
. A miserable feeling gathers in the pit of his stomach as he realizes that he is helpless.

  What sort of trick is this wily creature playing?

  The scent is unbelievably strong now, nearly overwhelming him with its beauty. To werewolves, scent is everything, and he experiences pretty aromas every day. Nothing, though, amounts to this lovely emanation that makes his head spin with dizzy delight. He feels like he is getting close.

  Suddenly, the scent turns bittersweet, a sharp note corrupting the melody. Fear and terror enters the scent, making the sugary quality go away and polluting the smell he needs so badly. Now, a sinister stench fills the air, and the terror the creature is feeling fills him also.

  Somehow, he can tell the emotions it is experiencing through its smell. However, the bad part is that he begins to feel the same emotions it does. The smell now is still intoxicating, but filled with need. It needs him.

  Want quickly enters his body. He wants to experience that smell once again, but not the one it was currently emitting. He wants to make it happy, so the taste of fear will disappear from the aroma. He desires that special sweetness with an intensity he never knew he possessed.

  His paws start to blur as they zoom through the forest so fast that even he can barely see them move. The longing is coursing through him, intensely corrupting his mind until all he can think of is the scent. He has to have it.

  He reaches a small clearing, next to a thin creek that spills into Lake Ray a couple miles away. It is a beautiful little area, with lovely flowers and green bushes, the trees graceful and tall. The aroma is overpowering here. The creature must be in this vicinity.

  His eyes search for it, looking for the evil thing that manages to produce such an attractive smell. At first, it is nowhere to be seen. But after he adjusts his eyes a little, he spots a figure in the dirt. It is a tiny thing, a small form covered in the thick mud, only a slender back seen from his angle.

  He suspiciously circles the creature, trying to make out its features. It is hard to distinguish, the mud camouflaging it in the dirt. When he travels right in front of it, though, his heart stops beating.

  Though not an overly pretty creature, it is still the most beautiful thing he has ever seen.

  It is a human girl, with bright green eyes that mesmerize him, trapping his gaze. Her ruby hair tumbled to her shoulders, the rain making it wet and shiny. Her body is small, but shapely, the rain melding her tattered dress to her form.

  A sudden stab of pain encircles his heart as he realizes what is happening, the beats growing faster. He begins to grow panicked. Is this really happening? Why now? Why, with a human like her?

  But nature refuses to listen to his pleas, binding him even closer to the young woman. This could not be true.

  A burst of white light comes forth, surrounding his being, then racing to meet the girl. It delves into her skin, soaking her with the white light. She doesn't notice, her eyes clogged with tears, looking at her toes.

  He is affected, however. The realization that he has just done something terribly, horribly wrong shocks him, making his whole body flinch.

  Shock, as well as anger and annoyance, races through his body. Nothing good can come of this. Nothing at all.

  However, the reluctance fades as he watches her. As it begins to take effect, he feels himself falling into a bottomless pit of endless love. There is no going back. He is ensnared in the tempting spider's web forever.

  Suddenly, another taste of horror explodes in the scent. Hail is beginning to fall, and he can tell that she has been hit. Her eyes, as she looks up, are listless. She stares past him, as if she doesn't notice he is even there. Painful tears evacuate her, pouring down her form. A small gash on her leg emits dark droplets of blood. He suddenly feels the need to protect her, to guard her. What is he doing, just standing here? He needs to move!

  A tiny scream escapes her, ripping into the night as a huge piece of hail comes hurtling towards her. Her eyes snap shut, fear overtaking her. The scent is consumed by terror, terror he has to eliminate if he wants to experience that sweetness again. He jumps immediately, trying as fast as he can to land over her form. To protect her.

  He releases a guttural howl and soars to be her shield.

  Have You Ever Met a Hot Psycho?

  ~ Ella ~

  I wake, my eyes fluttering as they focus to the brightness surrounding me. All I can see is a single blob hovering above me, a blur of colors flipping and weaving, twisting and turning.

  "Are you awake?" a beautiful, musical voice rips through the void I am suspended in, bringing me to the present with a thud. Everything suddenly shifts into focus, the blurred edges sharpening into easily distinguished images.

  Am I dreaming?

  A spectacularly handsome man stares at me, his startling green eyes disconcerting me with their brightness. I feel myself get lost in them, examining their wondrous beauty, trapped in their spectacular gaze.

  His skin is tan and muscled, his arms bulging, his hands strong and firm. Wearing a t-shirt and cargo shorts, he is dressed casually, yet he has an elegance that can't be explained.

  Straight and long, his hair cuts off around his jawbone, framing his face with pride. Layers are all over the place, short wisps accompanied by long strands, carelessly tousled. The bangs make me subconsciously want to push them aside so I can gaze evermore into his eyes with no distractions.

  The strangest thing about his hair, though, is that it is blue. A royal blue, even, that shines in the sunlight. But the hair suits him, complimenting his lightly tanned skin and emerald eyes.

  "Hello?" he asks again, his voice soothing to my ears. I blink once, trying to adjust to the incredible handsomeness before me. A man this beautiful has never been within five feet of me before.

  Finally examining myself, I notice that my leg is not bleeding anymore, covered with a thick bandage. My shoulder is covered likewise.

  I am laying on a soft, plushy divan. The floor is of pure marble, a deep black with hints of white trying to squeeze its way into the tile. A huge chandelier, crystals dancing generously just below its metal limbs, hangs delicately on a thin, gray wire in the center of the chamber. There is an impressive array of books, a gigantic bookcase stretching from wall to wall.

  But, of course, all my attention focuses on the man.

  He chuckles as I scan his face yet again, taking in his perfection, looking at masculine features that, at my school, I used to only be able to observe from afar.

  I cough once, attempting to croak some words out of my mouth. "Shh," he whispers, holding his hand over my mouth, "your throat is probably dry. Let me get you some water first." His hand feels so comfortable, and I feel, somehow, saddened when he releases it from my face.

  As he travels over to a stainless steel sink, I am unable to find a single emotion conveyed in his saunter. He seems to glide, walking in a way that’s almost impossible to describe.

  That is only one of the strange things I notice about him.

  Another thing that perks my curiosity is his eyes. When I skimmed over it before, I hadn’t noticed the reflection of the light upon his pupils.

  Now, as I more carefully observe, I realize there is no reflection. The light doesn’t bounce off his eye, but rather, sinks into it. It is barely noticeable, even by me, the queen of scrutiny, but I now can see the difference. The bright, emerald green seems to snatch the light and display it in his irises, his pupils a deep black in comparison. When I look at them, and he returns my gaze, my form is not visible in his pupil.

  He brings a cool glass of crystal clear water to my lips, gently pouring it into my mouth. "Can you speak?" he probed.

  "Yes," I barely whisper.

  "Okay, good," he smiles brightly.

  I suddenly find it hard to speak. "T-thanks for s-saving me," I stutter. He lets loose a musical laugh, the most beautiful one I've ever heard.

  "It was a pleasure."

  I feel self-conscious; suddenly disconcerted by the way he is scanni
ng my face, my body. I start to feel nervousness when I meet his gaze, even one glance at his beautiful, appraising eyes causing butterflies in my stomach. The need arises to avoid this strange, alien behavior towards me, to return to the orphanage and work on that science project I didn't do earlier because I thought I would die today.

  I quickly sit up, my back reposed on the fluffy pillows, and then I attempt to swing my legs over the side. Before I succeed in depositing my feet on the floor, though, he catches my legs and deposits them back on the divan, the hint of a smile in the corner of his lips. I feel a tingle of a delight as he touches them, his fingers lingering a little before pulling away. "Just what do you think you are doing?" he demands, rather laughingly.

  "Leaving." I decide to tell him the truth. “Thanks again for the help.”

  His eyes widen, "But you can't just leave! We have to find out more about each other! I don't even know your name."

  He is so different from any guy I’ve met. He actually seems like he wants to know more about me. His gaze tugs at mine, his expression of disappointment. If I didn’t know better... I’d say that he likes me, or at least my appearance.

  But, the thing is, I know better. Being liked is a privilege reserved for prettier people than me.

  I shoot up so quickly my movement is almost a blur, ignoring the pain that my motions are invoking within my injuries. The joke is over. "Well, sorry. I'm leaving," I say sharply. Why does my rudeness have to flare up at a time like this? I really need to work on my social skills. He did save my life, after all.

  I guess his behavior is scaring me. The way he is earnestly looking at me, with so much devotion, is rather unsettling and strange. It is like nothing I’ve ever experienced before, and, honestly, I have never been so afraid in my life.

  I start walking to the door, my slightly damp red hair waving in the light breeze. Maybe this is all just a dream. Maybe in a matter of minutes I will wake up to find that the man is only a figment of my imagination.