The Mooning: Prologuethylacine TheMooningAdjust content blockingContent Blocking nextrandomComment Prev Next The Mooning is a non-profit werewolf story, and any mentions are covered by Fair Use Policy, please do not send lawyers after me...... Thank you!Prologue -What do you fear? Within each mortal is a primal urge: to return to the land. To become a savage beast! Do not deny this, for I know what lies in thy heart! Witness now the plight of three young women coming to terms with their inner beast. Their pitiful struggle against the wolves within are in vain of course! For when the beast-blood courses you cannot hope to stop…........... THE MOONING! - HierracinawarruHushed terrified utterances pierced the air as the men quickly attempted to light the candles, the townswoman held their children tightly in the darkness as they clung tightly to their mothers and grandmothers like koalas in trees. The butcher’s eldest daughter was hastily spreading a line of ash and salt along the edges of the walls and doors in one last desperate line of protection, she desperately hoped the almighty would forgive her soul for taking this desperate drastic step. The low stone buttresses of the ancient church hooked above them all like the ribs of some colossal beast, an ageless guardian older then their own village. The cold storm outside roared with great intensity, they knew somewhere beyond the barred front doorway the old deacon lay lifeless upon the snow. They had heard it all, every horrific moment as he payed the ultimate price to the unspeakable horror outside, even now the sounds of his painful gargled screams full of blood haunted their minds. Grimily they realized that their fate now lay in the hands of the almighty, they prayed vigorously that those heavy doors preventing their grizzly end would hold for just a little longer. The stranger amongst them simply sat in one of the center pews as he steadily wrote notes within a leather-bound journal, to them seemingly unfazed by the approaching horror. A great intensity burned in his eyes as he wrote as much as he could in as detailed a manner that he could, he did not want to leave one single minute note out. This was it, this very night would be the final great culmination of all his work. Even if he were to perish this very hour, his notes here and now would be enough proof to seal his immortality. No one back west would be able to deny the proof he gathered tonight, he would forever seal his name amongst the likes of Marjorie Courtenay-Latimer and Peter Ouwens. If his life was cut short tonight it would not matter, his colleagues knew where he was and would recover his journal from this decrepit church in due time. Something heavy slammed into the front doors and splintered the wood slightly, the terrified villagers staggered near the alter in great panic. It could smell them gathered within, they were all sure of it. In their attempt to seek shelter they had unwitting trapped themselves into a corner and now there was no escape as their pursuer was making it’s way inside to get them. The doors jolted again and a low rumbling sound that churned their stomaches echoed outside, the children were crying now and no amount of words of reassurance would mask the horrible truth they all knew now awaited them. Great splinters caged outwards as the door was struck again and again, each strike coming faster and faster with great intensity. One elderly skeleton of a woman hopelessly began to raise her voice fearfully in loud prayer, they would all soon face judgement within moments and she felt her last act on Earth would best be in prayer. The light of the candles gleamed upon the metal of the revolver as it was drawn from the man’s coat as he placed his journal neatly upon the pew, if in the next thirty seconds the first five bullets would did not stop their assailant then he would simply put the final bullet within his own skull before the thing reached him. The front doors were now heaving heavily and from the cracks of the splintering debris they could see the light of the candles reflecting eerily from it’s eyes outside. The hammer of the revolver ****** backwards as the man quickly took aim towards the entrance, sweat flowing from his palms like greasy frogs. More shards flew downwards as the doors gave one last dying sigh, the villagers tearfully clamped their eyes shut and braced for the gory demise that awaited them. A bestial screech shook the inside of the church as the doors gave way and the roar of the revolver ripped the air, the candles all were suddenly snuffed all at once and a chorus of screams rose up like the wailing of the damned. Several more sudden gunshots rang out, each brief flash of the muzzle illuminating the charging nightmare sprinting wildly towards them. Finally after a brief pause the sixth and final gunshot ripped the air as the pews were covered in mulched brains and gore as if someone tossed an economy-sized glass jar of spaghetti sauce violently upon the wall, outside the horrified cries of the villagers were drowned out completely by the raging snowstorm. By the cold silence of tomorrow morning little evidence would remain of what happened here this very night, in this far off mountain village whose name was all but hardly remembered by the outside world. END OF PROLOGUE...... join list: TheMooning (8 subs)Mention History nextTags: werewolves | werewolf | Halloween | humor | funny | story +5 -Favorite +Favorite Unsub from thylacine Subscribe to thylacine Unblock User's Content Block User's Content Sub/Block Channels TheMooning:UploadUnblockBlockSubUnsubsubs: 0 FJ needs your help to survive! Be a hero, support FJ via Patreon: Receive hats, username change ability, no ads, colored text, and more.