A Werewolf Blog in Brooklyn

Friday the 13th | August 13, 2010

All the animals come out out night, I think to myself as I look around. It’s not quite pitch black on the street, but it’s damn dark all the same. But I feel welcomed. Home. Good. At ease.  Then a voice over my left shoulder says “Are the Brooklyn Projects safe?”

But instead of turning to look at the person who asked, I keep looking straight ahead.  My night vision allows me to see clear, better than any human ever could.

I feel at home, one with the animals, because I’m one of them. They see human but they recognise the scent of the werewolf lurking under my naked skin.  And they know I amongst them. One of them, with them, an animal that commands more reverence than all of them.  Because I can so easily dominate them, without fear.

“Why wouldn’t Brooklyn be safe?” I ask no one in particular, I can see shadows and outlines and dulled colours of buildings and housing and objects around me and I wonder what there is to fear in this world..

Then I hear the low growl of a beast near by. And I try to sense it, where it’s coming from.  I don’t want to run, and my heart beat isn’t quickening. My face is frowning and my legs are crouching.  Then there’s the growl again.  But just a sound, for all my heightened abilities, I can’t see what is making the noise, can’t locate where it’s coming from.

“Get home safe.”

A hand in mine, and I don’t even hear the person walk up to me. I look over into cobalt blue eyes.  And the temperature drops and I shiver for the first time. Paris smiles at me, showing me his werewolf teeth, through his human face.  I move up to him, press my naked body into his chest.  Heat flares in me instantly and I stand on tip toes, hovering just before his mouth.

It’s still open, he’s still smiling at me. Waiting for me to kiss him. I lean in and instead, I run my tongue over his werewolf fangs and teeth, licking the roof of his mouth.

I taste blood. He’s been killing again.  My mouth covers his and I kiss him deeply, wanting to share in the blood of a fresh kill.

The growl of another animal pulls us apart.  We both look out and I know it’s another werewolf. Crossing into our territory, watching us, disapproving of our display.  disapproving of me, my mouth now smeared with blood from his kill, not my own.

“You were always safe with me.”  I look to the right of me, and Conall is standing there.  He’s clothed, he won’t join us in the night. He just wanted me to know he was there. That he’s always there.

“No I wasn’t.”  I reply, my hand tightening in Paris’s hand.  He looks up at the dark sky, meteors cascade across it and the moon seems to burn too brightly now, like morning is approaching. Like he broke up the night time, my time in the night, my time with Paris.

“Especially from you.”


1 Comment »

  1. […] This post was mentioned on Twitter by Shane Benavides, Breukelen_girl. Breukelen_girl said: Friday the 13th: http://wp.me/pyFur-Qg […]

    Pingback by Tweets that mention Friday the 13th « A Werewolf Blog in Brooklyn -- Topsy.com — August 13, 2010 @ 11:16 pm

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