Werewulf short story preview
so heres a little short story that i started writing for no real reason. no i have not been abused no this did not hapen to me etc etc, just tell me what you think and if you want to actually see more of it i guess. id have to take a pause from New Beginnings for a week or two to do this tho soooo yeah :P im up to writing whichever.
please note this is all without edits or lookback at what ive writen so yeeeeah, it will be easier to read later and is subject to change.
Kyle found himself once more down a familiar dirt road, making his way to his safe haven, fleeing from his troubles. He knew every twist and turn. Every annoying branch jutting out into the narrow path to swat at his face. Every dip that threatened to take the uninformed walker to the ground. Around him the sounds of the night greeted him like an old friend, shrouding him in a veil of comfort that kept his mind from the new bruises that dotted his flesh beneath his clothes. Insects and the wind in the leaves being the main part of the nocturnal orchestra, the creeks flow to his right the steady base, and the occasional owl or deer, hooting or prancing were the fillers, the pizazz that kept the boys interest in the sound.
The noise unfortunately could not take Kyle away from his sore body, and strained mind. It could not allow him to un-see the drunken rage in his stepfather's eyes, or un-hear the awful things he said to his all too submissive mother, who sat in the other corner, thankful it was not herself being beaten. All the crickets in the world could not chirp enough to undo the bruises and cuts left by fists and the rings upon them, nor could the rabbits in the bushes, as numerous as they were, stop the belt from being swung, or the feeling of total defeat. And sure as hell the freaking creek could not change the way Kyle felt now.
Empty, hated, unwanted, a total pariah in his own home. His mother ceased caring for him after his father died and she was alone. When she became so hollow, it destroyed him bit by bit. But when that man came to make her whole, he just wound up making Kyle feel the same emptiness, and gave him scars to prove it was no dream.
Along the dirt road, Kyle never cried aloud, he teared, not wanting anyone to know he was here, quiet and silently suffering as a ghost. He scratched at his dirty brown hair that hung in his eyes, then went right back to putting his arms over his chest, shivering in the fall chill, the previous days rain still keeping all cool and wet. Had it been the summer bugs would be swarming him for his blood, but the chill had luckily killed them all until later.
Despite his knowledge of the trail nothing could prevent his shoes from soaking in the mud forming in the lower paths. Nothing was worse than walking through mud at night with a lot on your mind, nothing but returning home. His tall but thin form made his clothes look a size to big, but a size smaller wouldn't cover him height wise. He had dark relax fit jeans, tearing old good will skate shoes, a tee-shirt covered buy a large jean jacket his mother tried to convince him was a man's, but the scarf it came with was a dead giveaway she was wrong.
The flesh beneath his baggy clothes was the opposite. He was thin from an awful diet, his bones showed threw in a way that was attractive to very few, no muscle to try and make it look good, but hey, that's what happened when the food money is wasted on booze and women.
Kyle clenched his fists, the bastard even paid for OTHER women. He had some nerve. Absently he spit the iron taste from his mouth into the bushes, cursing that he didn't bring water or an extra pair of socks.
And that's where the trail ended, his feet now squishing onto asphalt running through north end of the park. Kyle passed by the baseball diamonds, memories of his dad watching little league games. Kyle's team always seemed to lose, but it was fun regardless, and his dad was always there to cheer him on, hell, he often went as far as too on the little budget they had, buy pizza for him and the team after most games.
After the diamonds you had the junky playgrounds where drug exchanges went on at this time of night, you know the ones, tucked away, old, mostly made of the metal that would get a park in trouble in this day and age, the temperatures reaching untold numbers that can burn kids when heated. That was followed by the first of two community centers, small, meant for group meeting in small clubs, then more diamonds with gazebos for family get-togethers and public events.
And last but not least at the very end of the road, the good playground, Kyle's safe haven. It was newer, more open, the bright plastic pieces all seeming skeletal in the night light. No one went here at night. You could not hide your shadow, it was all open and safe, you were aware of everything that happened around you. Behind it was woods sure, but a good 200 or so yards of open fields separated the two. Kyle finally cried aloud, the tears flowing free. Here it didn't matter. Should anyone approach him he could run for the woods. No one would see the crier boy. Here he was free to be himself, and even then it was only under the cover of night.
His vision was blurred by tears as he made his way to the swings, the structure metal and simple. Thankfully Kyle just rocked there, he didn't need height. He was comforted by the fact he would be there again, the night still comforting him.
The shadow in his safe haven was not.
Kyle stopped in his tracks, the light of the crescent moon surprisingly bright and luminous, revealing to Ricky a single figure atop the swings, just sitting on the metal beam, just seeming to stare at the moon above their head.
Kyle's fists clenched for a second time that night. How dare they? This was a safe haven. HIS Safe haven, and this ignorant ass just thought he could waltz in and take it from him? Hell no. he needed this. Kyle marched towards the swings, he wasn't normally one for confrontation, but this was serious. This person, whoever he was, was in Kyle's territory.