hello! hi! would you guys like to read a conceptual snippet of THE WOLF FIC (coming this fall to theaters near you)?
Hot, drafty winds shuttered the loose boards that dangled on loose nails, stuffy scents of hay and alfalfa terrorizing Randy’s nose as he stood warily by the barn door. He wasn’t afraid, but he was alert. He convinced himself he wasn’t worried, or at least he was trying.
His heart hammered, not out of fear, but an unsettling apprehension. The heavy shortsword and crossbow he usually kept glued to his back stood by his side, leaning on a dusty wooden pole. He was praying he wouldn’t use it, but he had to stay vigilant. It was increasingly harder to maintain that, though, the longer he watched Cody fight for balance as he heaved with effort.
Killing a monster was second nature to Randy, and he had no qualm in doing what must be done. Ridding the world of abominations was something he reveled in, and he was quite good at it. It was fortunate, he figured, that only one other living being could see his unusual discomfort. One other person.
But Cody wasn’t a monster, was he? That crooked grin, the gap in his teeth that belied the strikingly handsome face, those big blue eyes that squinted when he smiled, it was human. This earnest, boundless farmer’s son was not an abomination. He was sick.
A low, pained moan escaped Cody’s hunched form, and Randy was on edge once again. Wide eyes peered up at him desperately, eyebrows drawn together with worry.
“You don’t want to watch,” Cody hissed. His whole body trembled terribly, his hands almost unable to hold him up on his wobbling legs. His laborious breathing almost drew attention away from the unusual silence outside the barn. Almost. The cicadas had quieted, the owls had flown from the muddy roost of the hayloft. Truly, there were only two living beings in the humid barn.
“I’ve seen this before,” Randy replied stiffly, unmoving and still in contrast to Cody’s restless, writhing naked form. A sheen of sweat covered his body, slow rivulets sliding down his angular features. Cody seemed too fragile for this, as if he’d be torn apart if he changed completely. But Randy knew better than to doubt. He knew better than to underestimate. Cody curled in on himself, panting hotly, and gazed once more at Randy with those big blue eyes.
“It’s horrible,” he said quietly, drawing his lips thin. His fingers clutched the old wood tightly. Low groaning cracks rippled up the frame of the barn from his grasp. Randy nodded grimly. He would take this dread from this farmer’s son if he could, but if that were possible, then there would be no need for what he did. If Randy could hold him through it, save him from himself, he would. But kindness did not stop monsters, did not save the homesteads from slaughter, did not protect those that could not protect themselves. Yet, his heart ached watching Cody. The growing panic in his eyes, Randy had seen it a hundred times.
“You won’t let me out, right?” Cody choked, a tear slipping down his cheek. Randy nodded again. Cody didn’t look reassured. “Say it, please.”
Cody stared at him before nodding himself, hazy eyes drifting to nothing in particular before squeezing shut as he cried out in pain. Randy’s heart screamed at him to stop Cody’s descent, help him to his knees, but he remained frozen in place. His hand feathered over the hilt of the sword in its sheath by his side. A wet snap made his lungs freeze, followed by another anguished gasp. Cody doubled over and fell to his knees.
“Oh, God, not me,” he whimpered, clutching his skull.
“It’s okay,” Randy murmured softly, though Cody didn’t hear him. He tried to cry out again but was cut off with a guttural wheeze. His arm snapped sharply, harshly, and bent awkwardly at his side. Cody sobbed in fear, pawing weakly at the dirt floor. Alabaster white ripped from his skin, his bones warping to adapt to something much larger than himself, something too powerful for a mere mortal prison.
“Oh- fu-” Cody buried his head under his arms in an attempt to hide, only for another wrenching tear to yank him out of his position. His spine cracked and bled where the vertebrae freed itself from the flimsy layer of skin, ripping and mending muscles in a matter of seconds. Crimson drooled from his lips as his whines turned to raspy growls.
A sickening tear under his fingernails preceded long claws that gouged the mud under his hands. Cody’s upper body collapsed on the floor, and he wailed out in horror as his knees fell underneath him. Bleeding skin peeled and grew rapidly, his ribs snapping and protruding before curling beneath a new mass of red muscle. Randy grimaced in disgust, the rich iron smell fouling the air. This time, his fingers curled around the handle of his sword.
Cody pressed his cheek to the ground, shouting in anguish and keeping his eyes shut as bestial canines cut through his lips. Bushels of waxy, pale hair shot out of his weeping skin, adorning unnatural curves and muscles. He rolled to his back and arched upwards, clumsy padded feet kicking into an animal stall and sending dust billowing into Randy’s eyes. He shielded himself from the onslaught of dirt and stepped back, standing flush to the barn door and grasping his shortsword. A wicked scream pierced his ears and his heart grew cold.
A massive, writhing form wriggled in place, fighting for balance, and then Randy saw it all. Wiry, gnarled limbs brushed against the wooden poles keeping the barn together, hay and mud whipping around in the beast’s frenzy. A beast it was indeed, because nothing about the sweet boy Randy had come to know was to be seen here, at least until it noticed him. Crouched low, unsteady on its feet, a pale, bloodied mockery of nature snapped its head to find Randy.
The bluest, saddest eyes gazed back at him. Randy tilted his head in recognition, and he knew now he would not be able to slay this beast, even as it began to snarl its horrible sounds at him.
“Oh, Cody,” he said softly, sadder than he knew, and the beast bared its bleeding teeth at him, its pupils shrinking in primal fury. He readied himself, grateful to have his bearings against such a clumsy thing. The night must pass, and they could both rest again, both as human as they were born. But first, he must keep the monster at bay.
I won’t let you go, Cody.
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