Hello. I would like to tell you my story. My name does not matter just what I have to say. When I am done, I am sure you will agree.
The moon was full the night my story truly begins. I had decided that I should walk home instead of calling a taxi. All was well until I made it about half way. As I passed a nondescript house on a nondescript street, I heard a woman scream. Nobility was never my thing. The scream was unlike any scream I have ever heard before. It was primal. I cannot describe the energy. However, it was also a painful scream. It was clear that something very wrong was happening. When I went to investigate I found a rather large thing, and this rather large thing was eating the leg of a woman who was more likely dead from blood loss lying in a corner, as if a shirt tossed over there. The thing was a beast. It had a massive build, and appeared to be a half dog half-human monster. It was on top of me before I had a chance. As it sat on my chest and sniffed me, I prayed to God. I prayed for my loved ones. I prayed for salvation. Teeth tore into my shoulder and a quick jerk released a gob of me free from me. I prayed once again. This time I prayed for only a quick death. As the world began to fade, I heard a gunshot.
The next thing I remember is waking up in the hospital three days later. My shoulder is infected and I cannot use my left arm at all. My beautiful wife believes me when everybody tells me rabid dogs attacked me and the woman and I insist it was something else entirely. By the by, they never found her leg. Alicia, my wife, was there when I woke up and there she stayed for the next week as the infection spread throughout my body. I can say with all sincerity that I do not recommend having your shoulder eaten. Nevertheless, I digress. A week of pain and anguish that was previously unimaginable. My Alicia was there for all of it. The temperatures that promised to kill me, the infection and its fast-paced spread. The bleeding. She was there when I died.
It was a Thursday I believe. It could have been Wednesday though. So hard to keep these things clear. The sun peeked in past the blinds of my hospital room. I had been unconscious for three days as the infection worked its way through my brain. I opened my eyes to Alicia crying. I tried to ask her why but no sound came out. In fact, I found it impossible to breathe. My throat was swollen shut. I knew instantly that my time was over. I pleaded once again with the lord. I begged more in those few seconds than I ever had before in my life. When that appeared to fail and the world began to fade into darkness, I began to curse him. I felt nothing but cheated. I was being cheated out of a life with my wife, watching my children grow up. I was a middle manager in a supply chain. I was only thirty-four years old. I was being screwed and I knew it. Then the world was cold and black.
I was as surprised as anyone was when I awoke in the morgue. I was even more surprised to find that everything worked, as it should. The elation when I made a fist with my left hand matched that of my boys being born. The jubilation faded suddenly when the medical examiner entered the room. You would think he never saw a corpse move around a room before going by his reaction. Now that I think of it, I am sure that was something he had never seen before. It was at this time that I realized I was hungry. A little over a week with no food. Sure, they had stuck hoses into me and forced something into my body but what I desired right now was food. Real food. Attempts to ask the examiner about this were ignored but after a bit, we were able to come to an agreement.
Fed and now clothed I walked right on out of there. I stopped off at a church on the way home to show the lord my thanks and grab a quick bite before I went home. Home, how odd that word seems now. I stood outside the house with the mortgage for $350,000 over 35 years with a fixed interest rate. I stood there and contemplated my life and my future. As I said earlier, I was a middle management guy with a wife and two kids. I was a weakling. This last week had done more than kill me, it had recreated me in pain and fire. Was I going to return to my life of nothing? Alternatively, was I going to venture out into the world and experience my new life? The answer seemed so hard to come by at the time but in reality, it was the simplest decision ever made. I stopped in long enough to grab a few changes of clothes and some cash from the safe.
I ate so much on my trip down south. I admit it; I was a glutton, completely and very insatiable. The bus trips were the best I have to say. All of those random people with their randomness. It was delicious. I spent a year in the swamps of Louisiana. I have never had more fun. I highly recommend it. There was never a dull day. I had a few run ins with the natives though, I would like to say right now that bullets hurt like hell. If you can feasibly avoid being shot you will be all the better for it. The women though, oh my lord, they showed the most emotion I have ever seen. There were countless times where I just had to sit back and drink it all in, you know. After a year in the swamp, I decided to reenter the “world” once again.
During my travels I had managed to do enough…odd…jobs that I had acquired quite the large sum of money. This enabled me to rent an apartment in New Orleans that I paid in advance for six months. I love that city. I was able to live such a hedonistic lifestyle there. I had the pleasures of a new woman every ingle night. The most varied selection of food I have ever seen in my life. The entire city is like a buffet. Oh and the drugs. I experimented with so much in my time in the NOLA. There was this one night me and a lady friend I met at a bar an hour earlier thought it would be excellent to drop acid and wander the French quarter. Ah the memories. We ran through dozens of blocks that night. It was truly a hunt.
At the end of the six months, I decided to wander off to the Florida panhandle. Life there was not as good. I met the harlot… no the whore. I met the whore there. This woman, and I use the term in the loosest sense possible, this woman had survived a vicious attack much like my own. At first, there was astonishment at meeting others just like ourselves. Then there was passion, pure unbridled passion. It was as if we were preordained to be together. I made the mistake of taking my eye off the proverbial ball. I let myself get sidetracked from my escapades. And for her part, she made me pay a terrible price. When I think of her, I mourn my life with Alicia. What we shared was innocent. It was not based on a foundation of blood.
There used to be a biker bar in a little Podunk excuse for a shit hole supposed “town” in Florida. I say used to be because I burned it down. Then I pissed on the ashes and howled at the moon. I had lived next to it in a shack. The shack was about as big as a bathroom in an apartment complex, just enough room to lie down and sleep and that was all I needed at the time. One day I was catching up on some much-needed sleep after a grueling weekend trying to track some food down. I am curled up on my cement pad rather enjoying the rest when two large bikers burst in and managed to drag me outside where they, I guess the term “war dance” applies. They war danced on my head. I laid there twitching for hours. The pain was as close to what I felt in the hospital as I have ever come.
In those hours, I thought of things. Lots of things, some dark and some terrible. I decided then that everyone in that bar at that particular moment would die. I would kill them all. When the sun went down and I was finally able to move again I pulled myself into a nearby forest. I slept in that forest for two days. On the third night, I woke up. Initially I went to the whores place to inform her of what had happened. This was when the passion was burning you understand. When I arrived, I saw her with someone else. I will admit right now that my initial reaction might have been extreme. She was not my wife after all. Hell I was still legally married to Alicia, even if I had walked away. However, in that moment I saw fit to show them the degree of my displeasure.
The next day I went back to the bar and hid in the tree line that separated the parking lot from the swamp behind the bar. I watched bikers come and go. I saw the two bikers I was expecting around eleven at night. I confronted them there in the parking lot. There was a lot of screaming and some crying. After our altercation, I decided to burn the bar down. I siphoned the gas from five cars in the lot into glass containers. They made beautiful little Molotov’s. I bombarded the shit hole then went back to the woods to watch the show. Apparently, a Molotov I threw in a back window caught the storeroom on fire. There were cases of liquor and shine in there. The explosion caught me off guard; I really did not expect it to be that big. It was beautiful. I saw bikers running out of the front door completely petrified. I soaked in the joy of knowing I just thoroughly fucked their day. I stayed in the swamp for a few hours and watched the emergency crews do what they do. By dawn the last of them was leaving, and so was I. It took me two days to get out of Florida. I hitchhiked my way north.
It was winter. I was no longer able to sleep outside. I had managed to acquire a place to stay. A kindly old woman had decided to move me into the guest room. The food was dry and lacked flavor. Badly aged I guess. I spent the majority of my time wandering learning the lay of the land. The forests, when you could find one, were packed full of plenty of game. I spent a lot of time just tracking deer. It was a perfect contrast to my previous situation down south. I think that for this short time I was the closest to nirvana I am likely to get. There was a small industrial zone not too far from the old woman’s house. I picked up a few ladies while out finding my way around. I had plenty to keep me occupied. Theresa found me. Theresa is the whore by the way. I just realized I had not bothered telling you her proper name. Well there you have it. Theresa. One day I was coming home to the old woman’s from a night of fun with a woman from the factory and poof. Theresa is standing on the side of the road. The most interesting reaction sprang from me. I almost cried. I had thought about the night we parted ways many times since. I had measured my role and decided that I over stepped. I over reacted. I also felt anger. She had betrayed me. The maelstrom of emotions anchored in my gut, as I was now feeling nauseous. My nerves were all a tingle and on fire. Immediately I noticed a change in her scent. It was no longer appealing; in fact, it was anger and hate. I knew instantly why she had come.
I approached her slowly, taking in her beauty the entire way. Even after everything, she still had some power over me. The way her long blonde hair cascaded over her shoulders and down her back and the sun reflected off it. The combination was simply stunning. Her body did not hurt either. She had a perfect hourglass shape. Her body was like that of a world-class model. Yes, Theresa was that beautiful. When I finally reached her, I promptly apologized for my previous behavior, an act that visibly surprised her. She stood speechless for a moment, staring at the dirt beneath our feet. Then she said the words I never expected to hear. She said she loved me. Instantly everything that made me attracted to her washed away. I was in lust, not love. I will only ever love one woman and this pathetic wretch was not nor would ever be her. My hand collided with her jaw before I realized what I was doing. I decided to go with it. A few minutes later Theresa is crying and my hand hurts. I remember the hurt look on her face. It only made me hate her more. She was weak and she was a whore.
Later I left the old woman’s house. Things had become complicated. If the whore found me that meant anyone could. The weather was beginning to warm, which made sleeping outdoors somewhat possible. This enabled a greater amount of movement and a sense of liberation I desperately needed at the time. I stayed confined to a large forest; I assume it was some kind of national park or something similar. I never bothered to find out. There was plenty to eat, and time spent honing my tracking paid dividend almost immediately. I stayed there for months. I walked outside of that forest appearing much like a homeless person who had never seen let alone used a razor. A quick stop at a local house where a man lived rectified all of that however. The woman of the house was kind and fed me during my brief stay. After all, I get so very hungry when the moon is bright. Then I went home.
When I had left Alicia, I believed that my second chance at life meant I should leave everything behind. I never considered that maybe I should take the good things in my life and leave the rest behind. I had realized in my time in the forest that I was not living I was running. So I returned home. At first, everyone was happy to see me. Nobody knew what had happened; the police did not seem too interested in searching for a missing corpse. I told Alicia a slightly altered version of my encounter in the morgue. I decided that I would not return to my old career. I thought about opening a hunting shop out by the deer rich woods. At night, I ran and during the day, I tried to acclimate to my family while also hiding the multitude of changes I had gone through since the attack. I spent a lot of time with my sons. Harry and Dale were good boys. I remember the smiles on their faces as soon as I walked in the front door when I returned. I thought I made the right decision to come back, and that look on their faces validated that.
We were camping out in the woods one night. Alicia did not feel good, something to do with her allergies. Harry was eleven and Dale was eight and let me tell you, they were pure energy. In an odd kind of way the daily natural state of those boys mirrored exactly how I’d felt since waking up in the morgue. Anyways, we were out in the forest, the same ones I roamed most of the time. I am guessing it was somewhere around midnight. Harry had to pee. You should be able to gather from all that I have said that I am completely at home in the wilderness. Eleven-year-old boys that have been raised in an urban environment, or even suburban, well they are not completely comfortable in the wilderness. As soon as I unzipped the tent, flap and fresh air flooded in I smelled her. The whore had found me again. This time I knew for sure that she would want blood. I had humiliated her on two occasions. I doubted she would allow it to happen a third time. No amount of hiding in that tent would make her go away.
I told Harry to walk exactly as I did and make no noise. As we slipped out of the tent, I scanned the tree line looking for her. There was no visual sign but she was definitely somewhere close by. The scent was so strong, like she was standing on top of me. As we crept along the foot path looking for a suitable spot for Harry the wind slightly changed direction. Someone else was there. Alicia was there. Her scent was off. It smelled as if she had bathed in fear. My angel was afraid. The whore had my wife. The thought sent chills down my spine. I told Harry to finish up and get back to the tent. I also told him to get my pistol from my book bag and use it to protect his brother. I did not need the gun personally. I only owned it because Alicia suggested it when I came home. Her thought was that it might help protect me from another future attack. She also had the boys take firearm classes while I was away. Alicia was the smartest person in any room. She had a plan for everything really. Now more than ever she truly was the better half. If the whore harmed her, I swore I would bring fire down on the world. I would kill, maim, and torture. I would be true to my nature.
I followed the scents, trying to keep track of the whore while mainly following Alicia’s. For the most part, they were at least parallel and I could ride them both. Then Theresa moved. Her scent began fading, immediately I assumed she was trying to get behind me to block off her trail completely. She must have had a visual sight of me. When I think about it now I figure she must have been hiding in the trees. It is a bit harder to track things above you than it is for them to track things below. As I thought about all of this, I heard a child scream. The choice was probably the most insane any man could be presented with. Do I save my children or do I save my wife, who can truly decide. I chose Alicia. I thought that Theresa was merely toying with me. Lord above, I was wrong. As I ran towards my wife, the boys were gutted. The details are not important but I know my boys died in undignified and utterly brutal ways. I saw them.
There was a reason Alicia was terrified. She was hanging from a tree limb. She was almost dead by the time I arrived. The whore had rigged the rope to slowly suffocate her not snap her neck in an attempt to draw me out while she destroyed my children. As I released Alicia from her prison, I looked at her face and knew what she was thinking instantly. There were no words to explain any of this, nothing I could ever say to fix this. I caught Theresa’s scent on the wind and immediately headed in her direction. When I arrived at the campsite, I saw Harry strewn all around. I only stopped long enough to say a prayer and I was off again. Alicia had been running behind me, and I heard the instant she reached the tent. I was rage personified right then. I would have killed legions to reach the whore.
When I finally met up with Theresa, she was cleaning my children’s blood off herself. This was the final straw. I rushed her and it was fury and fire from that point on. We tore into each other with veracity. There was blood and meat everywhere. Thinking back on the sheer brutality of our encounter I say with all honesty that after what that whore did, I did not go far enough. OF course, Alicia saw all of this. Later, after I had buried our children and the whore I tried to approach her. She wanted nothing to do with me, and I could not and still do not blame her. What I do blame is her reaction later when I arrived at home to grab some supplies and say goodbye. Alicia answered the door with a shotgun. I offered to leave. She said no, I had to come inside.
She led me to the kitchen and asked me in a very polite manner to sit down at the table. I obliged, maintaining eye contact with the muzzle of the weapon. She kept it aimed at my chest, and my clothes were not Kevlar. As I sat there, she began crying, but refused any consolation from me. After crying for a few minutes she finally says something, “Why did you come back?” I probably should have answered quicker. Before I could think of a way to explain anything, the gun discharged. You remember where I said she had it pointed at my chest well she jerked a wee bit when she fired. The shell tore through my shoulder. The next few moments are still black to me. All I can recall is whimpering. When I came to, I was upstairs in our bedroom, half-naked. There were bloody prints all over the wall and carpet. Following the bloody trail downstairs led me to a broken Alicia splayed out on the floor. I fell down to my knees and began crying instantly. I cried for hours. I did not leave the house for weeks. It was Alicia’s corpse and I alone in that house for a week. I talked with god that week. I found out where it had all gone wrong. I never should have returned. I brought death upon my own house.
I knew this woman when I was living in New Orleans. She was an old woman, easily in her eighties. At the time, I just figured she was an old black woman that had lived through some strange and interesting times. She had told me once that someone marked with evil would never feel god’s love for their heart is already full of evil. The only way to save those people was to end their suffering in the mortal world because god would have no compassion for them in the afterlife when they burn in the lake of fire. As I said, I just thought she was a crazy old woman. It turns out that she was right. In the twenty years since I lost my family god has done nothing to ease my suffering. I am so alone now. I decided to tell you all of this for a reason. I intend to make you like me so I will not have to do this alone anymore. No do not bothering to object, my minds made up. Now when I turn, it will be rather disconcerting. Just remain calm and let me apologize beforehand for any limbs lost. Sometimes my other half just gets overzealous but his bark is definitely worse than his bite, or so they tell me.