Shine on me

Hey,
Just before you start, please bear in mind that it might not be as imaginative as some work I've produced... mainly because we HAD to write about a Gothic house. And, as you can see, I've turned what should have been a description into a story...
Never mind. Enjoy...

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I awoke with a start.

Now that my eyes are wide open, I can see the dark clouds above my head.

Where am I? I am lying, dejected, on the ground. The earth beneath me is saturated; I can feel the soft mud on my hands as I move them. I can’t feel my legs – there is no pain. But there is blood.

I examine my hands, then my chest; my clothes, covered in filth from the ground, are also torn to shreds – and my hands soaked in blood. I see a deep cut across my arm; and I touch it, feeling the warm blood oozing out. Pushing down on the sodden
ground, I lift myself to my feet.

Next to me, there is a young man. I recognise him, but I cannot remember who he is. A distant acquaintance, perhaps? I examine him, as I had done myself, for injuries – and, although his face remains intact, I can see clearly that his throat has been cut; and his body, mutilated. He is stiff, and his eyes are wide open, as if he is still shocked at his untimely death. I don’t know him well – but still, I mourn for is passing: without him here, nothing separates me from the dark abyss of loneliness.

Despite the darkness that now impairs my sight, I can still make out the outline of trees around me. Am I in a forest? All I know is that I am in the middle of nowhere; I am lost in darkness; and I am alone.

Is that a light I can see in the distance? I dare not hope; but, as I stare intently at it, it does not fade – it is no figment of my imagination. Someone else is out there – the darkness has not yet defeated me.

I have decided that I must walk towards the source of the light, and find out who – or what – is out there. It is my only hope.

I’ve picked up the body of the young man, and he is now draped over my back. I think it would be disrespectful to leave his body out here to rot.

Besides, I need the company.

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I had been walking only a short time before I came across a clearing. I put the body of the young man down, and collapsed on the nearest solid object, exhausted from carrying the weight of another. The light is still shining brightly in the distance.

There is a strong wind in this clearing. Some say that a strong wind is a sign of a brewing storm; and I believe them now. Soon, slowly at first, then gradually harder and faster, rain fell from the black clouds overhead. The wind is so strong now that my hair is being blown into a frenzy, and the rain is only limiting my sight further. I am trying to stand up, desperate to get away from here, and back into the protection of the forest; but, every time I do so, I slip on the mud underneath me. This time, I have fallen, helplessly, to the ground – and I now find that the very object I had leant on earlier was a small gravestone.

Panic – an overwhelming sense of fear - has now consumed me. I am breathless, flailing in the mud – in this grave – to try and break free. The rain is now so hard that it is washing away the ground beneath my feet; and I have found, to my horror, that this grave is shallow. I lie still, dumbstruck, as a rotting corpse is unveiled to me. It is staring at me, with the dark, empty holes where its eyes should have been. I should have looked away.

Instead, I let out a blood curdling scream.

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The rain has finally stopped. I am still standing here, in the clearing. The man I am carrying on my back is starting to smell a little now – perhaps I should bury him. But, then again, he is the only friend I have at the moment. Even if he is dead.

There is a small break in the clouds, where some rays of moonlight are penetrating through. This was the light I had seen – and this light has led me to hell.

To my left, the moon shines warily on a Gothic house – the strange thing is, I had not seen it before. Now, it is plain in my sight, and I can admire it in all its glory – the windows, though encrusted with mould and dirt, still show some of their former beauty, and I can see through them into the darkened rooms. What grim wonders await inside? The dark beauty of the building is truly astounding – it intrigues me, and I draw nearer.

The closer I get, the more obvious it is that I am not safe. In front of the house, gravestones are scattered here and there, blocking my path. I can hear a rustling in the trees to the side of me – something is there. Two dead trees stand guard in front of the house – and, in the strong wind, they have come to life; and they are aiming their long, powerful branches at me.

I have to retreat and pick up my friend. I know so little about him, but I want him to be there if anything happens. I don’t want to be alone.

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I lie next to him, on the stone steps. I can’t move – I don’t want to move – not now that I am under shelter. With my friend.

I can hear a ticking sound. It started a couple of minutes ago. Quietly, at first. The louder; louder again; louder still – and now, it is all that I can hear. It’s consuming my mind.

The clouds above me are not as dark now. In fact, some of them are a brilliant white, only just managing to hold back the glorious moonlight.

Moonlight. I can see some rays of light breaking through the clouds, right near the edge of the clearing. They are moving closer to me. I must have moonlight…

I can’t think anymore. The ticking sound in my mind is all-consuming; and the rays of moonlight are moving even closer. I am crawling now, down the stone steps, to the brilliant rays of moonlight bursting through.

The grey cover of cloud above me is breaking, allowing an abundance of light to shine through – and, as the moon showers me with its graciousness, I wallow in its power. Slowly, my strength is deteriorating – so much so, that I have now collapsed to the floor.

The ticking is all I can hear now. Worse still is the torturous pain that fills every fibre of my being; a pain so great that I cannot think; a contortive agony.

                                                          *****

The pain is gone now. It left as swiftly as it came; and, as it went, all my memories came flooding back. So too did my uncontrollable lust for that which I had once feared the most.

I look down at my right hand; I no longer have fingers and a palm – instead, I have a grotesque, distorted paw. My nails have also disappeared, to be replaced by unsightly claws. I see that my arms are covered in thick fur. I can’t hold it off any longer; the uncontrollable lust for flesh has taken over.

I look up at the moon, which I can now see clearly through the clouds, and let out a loud howl. It does not matter that it was I that killed my friend – nor that it was I who ate his flesh.

The moon has called upon me; it’s time to feed once again.