A crash. A sickening preditorial growl. A piercing scream. Silence. Sounds of the night I've become well accustomed to. Yet it never fails to get me out of my bed, my cozy nest of smoke inhabited blankets in this rat's nest of a motel. I push aside the faded blinds.
The light of street lanterns seemed to illumanate the corpse of a young woman who was most likely left there Intentionally.
They want us to know they're here. Creatures of the night; monsters as they are. Any human caught wandering the night is clearly insane. Authorities even turn a blind eye: their weapons are useless against the beasts. This woman was clearly left to be made an example of. The beasts, be what they may, own the night. It's no longer our place to interfere. Walking the streets alone at night is a self suicide mission.
I push the window open and whisper a prayer so her soul may find peace.
Nobody can say for sure what these creatures are. Any who have seen the monsters have never been able to report back on their observations. Like I said its self suicide. All we can do is speculate. In the morning the corpse will have been studied. Same routine. Same lost cause.
I run my nails through my long golden hair. I look like I could be a victim. Slender , seemingly feminine and weak; the before picture of a corpse found laying in the street. Not tonight...
Tonight I am a huntress. For the first time I feel I have nothing to loose. So it is now that I must fight to take back the life I once had. The life we all once had. I gear up. Black pants and a matching camisole to blend into the constant dark, zip up boots to maneuver soundlessly. A Francesca battle ax fashioned out of demon glass. Brass knuckled gloves for closer combat. My taislman necklace for luck and superstition and lastly a shot of whiskey for courage.