"Hold on"
#1 of Song Stories
New series with short stories in it. Most of them will probably not contain yiff.
The idea is that while listening to a song, I write the story that that song makes me think of. The story that song could be about.
I thought I would leave the song title out of it in case you wanted to guess what song the story was about. The song title will be revealed in the comments, so careful scrolling that you don't catch it. Stop at the buttons below if you want to guess the song title before revealing it to yourself
Also Stories in this series will not be connected, and instead each be their own individual, self-contained story.
If it is received positively I may do another.
If you have an idea on a song to do, please feel free to suggest it in the comments or through private message. In doing so, however, do not tell me in what way to do it. or what it should be like. :P Thank you.
The faint outline of his lover filled his cloudy vision. His eyes swam with unshed tears from the pain. Her hands were pressed into the spot in his chest that oozed a steady flow of frothy blood; a great darkening spot that spread from the wound, turning everything crimson. It darkened his grey fur as his healing ability fought against the silver in his chest, but to no avail. His blood practically boiled as it reacted to the vile bullet. Her eyes were wet with tears as well, but she couldn't stop them from falling on his face, running down his muzzle, and leaving trails of wetness in his fur. He winced as his blood fought against the invader, but like the cure to a disease, the silver lodged in his body was the perfect antivirus for the strain of his disease, his curse. He knew there was no hope to stop the spreading burning sensation in his body, no stopping the slow seeping poison. If it had been a normal bullet, and if it had missed his vitals, he would have lived. But, the silver had grazed his heart, and he felt it quickening, a part of him he depended on, pumping the poison through him. The shock of the wound preventing him from slowing his breath, his heartbeat. The sound of the gun shot still echoing in his keen hearing, deafening.
He fought against his form, wanting the weeping woman that was hunched over him to see him as that handsome man she fell for. Wanting for all the world to comfort her, to tell her it was alright, even if it was a lie. But if he opened his mouth, he would surely only howl out in agony. His teeth were bared, clenched in pain; slowly the savage fangs that would never kill again, shrunk. His fur receded; his eyes lost their soulless yellow color in favor for a deep brown. Slowly, he struggled against his transformation, which was trying in vain to protect him. Slowly all the wolfish traits left him, his skin exposed to the chill of the night. The full moon could barely be seen rising against the horizon, huge and swollen with a month's time. But the full moon's strength did him no good against this foe, the poison in his veins.
For a moment his eyes unfocused, and though he fought against it, sight left him, leaving him instead with a dull, fuzzy, darkness. Memories flooded in to take the place of the lost sense.
That morning, after the wedding, the new couple laughing, enjoying the celebration of their love. The everyday problems of life no longer such a weight when they had each other. "Hold on," he took her hand, lowering her in a graceful dip, mid-dance. The moving bodies around them blurring as they held each other and all that mattered was their love.
"Hold on, please.." she pleaded with him, Tears flowing freely from her, dropping onto his blood streaked face. His eyes slowly closed.
The hunter laughed, satisfied with his job well done. The evil purged from the earth. And it was that sound that did it; the women could no longer take it, she stood on shaking legs, knowing her lover was lost, that he would not recover. And all that was on her mind from that second forward, was making the hunter meet that same fate. She took a few hesitant steps toward the man; his back was turned but he was a trained killing machine. All his life spent fighting inhuman monsters that wouldn't think twice about ending his life. He turned, hearing movement. The woman's blood stained fists swung, catching nothing but air as he moved out of the way. His leather jacket flapping in the wind, his hand moving once again to the holster at his belt.
One loose end. There was no doubt that she was probably carrying his vile spawn. Her stomach was just starting to show the beginning signs of the life she carried.
The hunter would not have thought it possible, that the creature could still move, but as his hand leveled to take the shot, aiming for her stomach just to be sure; that same bloodied, snarling, furred monster moved. Rushing on all fours, tripping into the path of the second shot, hitting the ground with a whine, leaving a smear of blood in the dirty snow that covered the street edge. There was no more moving from where he fell. Just the still form of a wolf in the gutter and the clatter of a casing hitting the pavement. The hunter huffed. "It's amazing that that roadkill could save your life... Then again, I suppose he didn't save it... For long."
And indeed, to a passerby the lycan did look like a normal wolf, dead on the side of the road. Roadkill.
The hunter chambered another bullet, his eyes off the woman for just a moment. But a moment was all she needed. Rows of snarling fangs buried into the hunter's throat, stifling his gasp of surprise with a gurgle. The gun rattled to the ground, chamber still bared.
A great mournful cry filled the night, her first transformation driven by a full moon and pure rage. The first full moon she had spent alone in a long time.