Moon Bruise

My version of werewolves and vampires.

A scream rang out over the rooftops of the bleak town where, according to legend, monsters are made.

The full moon shed its silvery light across the walls and wet cobblestone streets of the town, glinting dimly off of still, dirt-flecked water in every shallow gutter. Abrubtly, the water of one was disturbed as a body splashed into it, dark blood marring it's surface as it stilled once more, the walls briefly flashing in it's reflective light. High above where the body lay, on a cliffside in the moon's shadow, a castle loomed. It's tall spires and towers seemed to pierce the moon herself, casting a jagged shadow in the dead eyes, staring upward through a curtain of long, dark hair. The body of a young girl, curled in death, lay on her back in the gutter. A chunk the size of a hand with it's fingers spread wide was missing from her left side, and blood still leaked from the wound although her heart had long since stopped beating. The thing that had killed her was nowhere to be seen.

Suddenly, a shadow was cast. A faded shadow, it's color greyish, almost dark blue or purple, slid over the gaping wound. There was nothing there to cast the shadow but an evil feeling in your heart. Under the shadow, the torn skin and spilt blood began repairing itself, and sliding in sinuous streams through the water back into the body. The girl's body shivered once, and the wide eyes closed, then opened slowly again. A breath was taken; cold, stiff fingers bent once more. The shadow shrank, until it was nothing but a dark mark on her newly whole skin, like a bruise in the shape of a perfect circle.

"It is done," two dry, raspy voices from nowhere intoned in unison, "The Lady has chosen, The Shadow cast. You have trancended death and will now serve her forever."

Listening to this quiet proclamation, the girl began to cry. A shaking hand felt along her side to where her terrible wound had been, torn clothes fluttering at her touch. She sat up slowly, sobbing, shaking, and wet. For hours she stayed there, hugging herself, gasping, trying to digest what had just happened to her. Eventually, the moon sank below the jagged mountains on the horizon, and she instantly felt better. She raised her head and looked around, her cheeks still wet with tears. She licked her dry lips and pulled herself to her feet, staggering out onto the street. Walking almost drunkenly, hand over her side, she made her way home.

The End

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