Movement in the darkness as the head of a huge boa constrictor swayed in the dancing light, resting on one shoulder. The rest of its body coiled around the muscular, torn chest, its tail extending to the top of one thigh, while a tarantula crouched on the other shoulder, completely still.
Shadows shifted and the beast was gone, replaced by a man with black hair and the same blood red eyes. He bore the same wounds, though now on His face the cut over the left eye extended from the top of the forehead to the bottom of His nose, and the four gashes revealed the whole of one tooth at the top and one at the bottom. The bones along the spine were now human, no longer spiked, though they were no longer visible in the darkness. Only His face remained visible, the rest of His body hidden entirely in the suffocating sheets of black that engulfed Hell.
He grinned as He continued to watch the werewolf and the vampire, and whispered into the darkness.
“And so it begins.”
Epilogue
I fall silent. You look at me expectantly, wanting me to continue, oblivious to the fact that it is growing dark, and that the storm is long since passed. But I shake my head. No friend, I must leave it there for now. For a full moon is rising and the transformation begins. I must conclude the first part of my tale to feed.
You look on with horror as you realise it really is all true. You stare with grim fascination as my face bulges outwards into a snout filled with razor sharp teeth, and you look on at death, realising your mistake in coming here with me.
Bloody images flash through your mind of everything I have told you. Panic takes a hold again. You wish you were home already, safe behind locked doors. Where is home? Can you remember the way you came?
A smile would curve my mouth now, if I were still human. I feel better for talking about my past, though it doesn’t change the fact I am still alone. No matter, that is a human need, and my humanity is fast disappearing again, falling to the onslaught of the beast. Perhaps it will die along with you, memories I have recovered lost again, maybe for eternity this time. Or maybe not. I’ve been at this point so many times before, and a part of me wishes I could forget, just become an animal and join the natural world where the laws of survival are simple. I was so close before you made me remember, but I can never truly belong to that world. I will always be a hybrid, belonging to both worlds and yet a part of neither. There is only one world to which I truly belong and it abandoned me. Eternity is a long time to be alone. My sanity is slipping once again.
Grim fascination wants you to watch the man become the monster, but you know to do so is to forfeit your life. So you flee the cave, but everything looks different in the darkness. In the heart of the woods the only light is from the moon overhead, the very thing that will kill you, yet it could also be your saviour. By its faint, ghostly light, you can just make out a path between the trees. Did you come that way? It must eventually lead out of the woods, right? It’s your last chance, your last lifeline. You run along it, straining to hear the animal sounds behind you, aching to know how close I am in pursuit.
A howl rings out from the natural shelter, the transformation complete. I follow, swift and silent as death.
You push yourself to greater speeds and know it will not be enough. Your legs burn, your heart pounding against your ribcage as if it’s trying to escape, your lungs demanding more oxygen. You already feel exhausted, but fear keeps you going.
Salvation! You find the main pathway and up ahead you can see streetlights, and hear the sounds of civilisation. If you can just reach them maybe the werewolf will pick someone else.
How close am I now? You turn your head just enough to see behind you and a sob escapes your throat when you see me closing in. You’re too busy watching me to see the thick tree root barring your path. You don’t know to lift your legs higher to clear it, and consequently you trip, your momentum carrying you crashing to the floor.
“No!” you scream in frustration, voice high with fear. The lights are so close now, so close and yet so far.
You twist round onto your stomach to see me pounce and scream again, praying someone will hear you, something will distract me and I will take someone else instead. But you know my secrets now: it has to be you who will feed me tonight. And I will not waste energy on another when you are such an easy kill.
My front paws land on your chest, knocking the air out of your lungs. My jaws lower, my mouth encasing your head, my fangs the last thing you will ever see before they gouge out your eyes and drive deep into your brain, ending it. You have no breath left to scream. You will die here, alone in the woods, and no one will ever know what became of you. You feel a brief sensation of intense pain, the last thing you will ever feel, as you are plunged into darkness, and finally the last thought dies in your head, my teeth in your brain, soon to know no more.
Your brain is dead, but your body has yet to realise it. You twitch beneath me, limbs convulsing violently, while I gorge myself upon your mutilated corpse. In time I will continue my tale where I left it when I find another fool to listen, another easy meal. Not that you care. All that you ever were and all that you may have become leaks away through your ruined eye sockets and the puncture holes in your skull, and then you are no more. Your earthly remains will soon be long gone. As for your soul, only you know what will happen to that. If you’re lucky you may reach Heaven. Or you could face an eternity of wandering endlessly, trapped in a shadow of your former life, or worse, an eternity of pain and suffering in the fires of Hell. Or perhaps worst of all you could cease to exist, lost in oblivion, never to know or see or hear or think ever again.
Or perhaps you will rise as one of us.
Those last few seconds of your existence trickle away. It’s growing cold, so cold, and the world is getting darker. You’re alone, lost in the void of the great beyond, all alone. The pain is fading as your brain dies and then it’s over. Frightening, how one second you can be here and the next gone. But it awaits us all. And in the passing of a second you cease to exist.
Biography
Nick Stead began writing at the age of fifteen. His love of horror and werewolves in particular led to the creation of Hybrid, following a brainstorming session with his cousin to get him started on the first three chapters. Twelve years later at twenty seven and after two major redrafts, his dream of seeing Hybrid published was finally realised. He lives with his two cats in Huddersfield, England, where he is hard at work on the next book in the Hybrid series.
For more information about Nick, Hybrid, and other works visit: www.nick-stead.co.uk.
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