Chapter 1: Albino Dreams
The night was cold; a bitter wind blew down the empty streets as the rain rapped against the windows. The clear barriers keeping out the cold from the warm, bright houses; pillars of light cascaded from windows on either side of the street, each house echoed with the sounds of television, music and chatter. The street lamps shook under the strength of the wind, gusts stealing things from the curbed garbage-cans and threw it high into the air and twirled it about on its chilled fingers. Everyone in this neighbour-hood was happy, content and most of all warm inside their homes. The families gathered around the sitting room, watching their TV. sets and playing board-games in front of a log fire. Only a single soul was out in the bitter night, a lonely, rejected life that peered through those windows and longed for their happiness.
A single figure was out and about, the street-lamps lit the heavily clad creature as it wondered about. Ducking to check under cars, rummaging through bins and sneaking over gardens and peering into the windows; only in the orangey light was the creature shown. A dark, old coat covered it from neck to ankles; full length and made from leather, old, fraying and patched over the elbows and the left shoulder. The head was covered by a soaking wet hood, pulled high and with ear holes cut through the fabric; the long and slender extrusions gave hint to the creature's species. White fur could be seen along the ears and where the rain had washed off some dirt, streaks of brighter white fur. Under the dark coat and grubby, green hoody was a pair of tattered, ripped jeans. Torn open at the knees and stained with blood, mud and other things. His feet were covered in a pair of leather boots, tall and roll-topped. His hands were gloved, though a couple of fingers were missing, black fur covering the exposed fingers.
This creature breathed heavily as it neared a house at the end of the street, the lights out in all but one room at the front of the house. Curtains pulled but the thin material let the light out still. The hooded creature hopped the chain-fence, the wind hiding the noise. He approached the side of the house and ducked down; sneaking between this house and the hedge of the next garden over. The rain was kept away here; the houses tight vicinity stopped the rain from falling here, though it kept dripping from the roof. The wind couldn't quite blow powerfully through the gap and the bitterness of the night was being nulled by the heating vents along the lower parts of the wall. The hooded figure waited her, warming its bones before it moved on into the back-garden.
Familiar footprints were in the mud from the night before, a ritualistic pattern he followed every night. He would wonder to the swing-set and then to the tool-shed where he would take a piss up against the rotting, green-stained wood. Then double back on himself towards the side of the house and climb up the drainpipe with incredibly agility. From there, the creature would swing onto the small balcony outside one of the bedrooms and peer into the room. The darkness within the room was broken by a thin stream of light from the outside world through this one window. The curtains cracked where he could see in, crouched down low with his breath washing over the glass and making it mist up. He would press his nose and forehead into the cold glass and stare into the gloom; his hood masking his face and the reflection died down enough to let him see in.
In the inky blackness of the room, he could see little, but in that sliver of light he could see a bed. The beam sliced through the room and let him see where his love slept; comfy and safe inside those covers. Always kept from him as the world would never tolerate the secret love he harboured for the sleeping cub. The silvery light showed his love in unnatural beauty, so pale and cold. Almost looking like a perfectly preserved cadaver, the cold light reminded him of the frailty of life. He'd stay here for more than an hour, the rain running off his leather-covered back until it eventually stopped. The wind died down and let the street a very eerie quiet. The families in bed and the lights all gone out, the creature left his love by leaping from the balcony, onto the soft mud of the garden and hopping over the back fence. By now, no one would be awake to see him as he picked his way through the overgrown land behind the estate towards his own home. A rank little shack on the borders of a game sanctuary, a kilometre from the estate, was his home.
Once inside the makeshift building, the creature stripped out of those wet clothes and through them aside. The coat first, then the zip-up hoody; followed closely by a grey, muddy t-shirt and those horrible jeans. For the first time, the creature was recognisable as a jackal. A rare and endangered beast, albino and malnourished. His pale, white fur was hinted pink by his sensitive flesh underneath, his ribs could be seen through his fur, as could most of his bones. The Jackal lived off the scraps he pulled from the bins and sometimes, he was lucky enough to snatch a cat from beneath the cars. His hands were stained black from the dirt he was constantly working with. Those tall ears were set atop a cascade of brilliant white-silver hair. Showing his age slightly as the hairs on his head and around his chin and eyes were going silver. His hair was long, matted and scruffy, nearly always kept in a ratty pony-tail and out of the way. His eyes were pink with deep, dark red pupils. His teeth were yellowing and stained from years of being unable to take care of them. Though not diseased or infected, they didn't look great.
He slumped onto his bed, a pile of old blankets and stolen mattresses with half the springs missing. The rough Jackal pulled his gloves off and tossed them aside as he wriggled out of his boxers and kicked them away to join the rest of his clothes. Though it was cold, the jackals shack was always kept warm by the clever ember pit he had made in one corner with an almost constant supply of materials that gave off little smoke but a lot of heat. He shut his eyes and lay back in his bed; his nose twitching at the stale, musky smell of his old sheets as he pulled them around him. His mind wondered back to his love, watching the cub for all these months and never once having the chance to reach out and touch them, share with them what he felt. The albino shifted and lay on his back as his mind was slowly ticking over, thinking about his minor. He remembered seeing them, in the summer, playing in the paddling pool completely naked. Running about in the water, kicking it and splashing it, totally unaware of the pink eyes watching it. At the thought of seeing the fur matted around those cute legs and the fine rear, the jackal's sheath gave a heavy twitch and started to swell. His hands remained wrapped around his chest as he carried on, thinking about his love.
A few weeks ago, he had peered into their room and they had woken from a dream. The sleepy cub had slipped from its bed and wondered over to the window and opened it. The Jackal had been forced to hide, laying under the sill until they returned to bed. He could remember the smell perfectly, a mix of play-dough, crayon and sweet vanilla from the shampoo they were washed with. His mind recalled it and it aroused him so much, his length slipped from his sheath and a potent musk slipped into his nose. The Jackal hated himself for getting worked up over the cub he dreamt of. Knowing he should never have had these thoughts, feelings and the eventual obsession he found himself with. Even as he fought guilt from his mind, the jackal reached down and started to stroke his pink length with a black digit. He rolled onto his side and opened his eyes, staring across the dull room at the pair of panties he'd stolen from the house's washing line. The cub's cute little white panties, they had held onto her scent even through the wash. He reached out and grabbed them, pulling them close and burying his pink nose into the white fabric. He breathed deep the sweet scented underwear and shuddered as it triggered a hot, euphoric sensation in his loins. The jackal's paw gripped his length as stroked furiously along. The scent of those panties, the images he held in his mind were enough to make the poor jackal explode soon after. He rolled onto his back, threw his covers off and arched his back. Throwing his hips up, the jackal came hard. His length spewing rope after rope of his seed from him and over his stomach, chest and a few nearer to his face, hitting the panties over his nose. He took a deep breath found the mix of his scent and the cub's so incredible, his mind was swimming with the amount of ideas, thoughts and lustful dreams he had in the space of a few seconds. The jackal let go of his shaft and wiped his paw on the sheet, flicked the ruined panties from his nose and shut his eyes. The guilt-ridden Jackal let out a sigh, longing to be with his love, his mind started to clear as his breath returned to normal. The jackal stared into the back of his eyelids and a thought came to him. He sat up and looked about, a smile pulling on his lips.
He spoke aloud to his empty shack; his voice was velvety and smooth, though hinted with a husky, gruff tone.
"Tomorrow night... My love will be mine."