Can't Fight the Moonlight

“You ready hoe?”

“Why did I ever stalk you?”

“Because you thought I was so damn amazing!” I boast as I look at my reflection, tracing my fingers over my chin. My nail runs against my labret piercing, my teeth pull at my lip and I tug at my shirt. Excitement prickles at my pours and I crack my toes that are hidden under my totally kickass boots. El jets out of the bathroom and I quickly mimic her, the cab would be pulling up in a few minutes; it would be if the cabbie didn’t want to go to the hospital tonight. I’d hate to be late, even for the opening band.

Just like I figured the cab pulls up right on time and we slide into the back seat, repeat the concert address about three times and set back, waiting the half hour it took to get there.

“Do you smell that?” I scream after paying the cabbie and when I slammed the door shut he sped off.

“What?”

“People! Not a demon or damned in the senses!” We park it in line.

“Fuck this battlefield the bullets tear around me
Bodies falling voices calling for me
Limbs are flying men are crying
Such a hurtful sight
The call is made it's one for all”

“Can you feel the rain it pour’s
Nail down all your windows
Then barricade the doors Mother Natures fury
She takes you by the hand
Showing all but mercy
Wreaking death upon the land”

“Once more you tell your lies to me
Why can't you just be straight up with honesty?
When you say these things in my ear
Why do you always tell me what you wanna hear?”

“Theres always something different going wrong
The path I walk is in the wrong direction
Theres always someone fucking hanging on
Can anybody help make things better?”

“My beds so cold so lonely
No arms just sheets to hold me
Has this world stopped turning
Are we forever to be apart?
Forever to be apart”

“Too many times I’ve seen it
Rip a hole into our friendship
This is how it's been
How it always will be”

“Has nobody told you when you look away?
The stories they told you still run through your veins
Has nobody told you when you look away?
The stories they told you
Still run through your veins”

“The hours drift away and it hurts to remember
This will soon be over
Should it all come crashing down around me?
Would you be there should I stumble and fall
And pick up the pieces”

“Her skin reflects behind the blur, I’m intoxicated
Were am I from, why am I here, you’re so predictable
Her fingers running through my hair
But its all just fiction
She steps out from her underwear, you're so beautiful”

“Cries for anger, Lies for power
Fighting for nothing is what you were born for
Cries for anger, Lies for power
Fighting for nothing is what you were born for”

“Helpless my eyes are bleeding from the fear that’s inside
You sealed your demise when you took what was mine
Don't try and stop me from avenging this world
No voice to be heard
Waking the Demon”

My chest heaves lightly as El and I stand with a cluster of Bullet hungry fans outside the front of the venue. After some minutes pass by I join in the chorus of screams as Jay and Matt exit the front doors. Sharpies, magazines and posters are shoved their way and they start signing, I told El earlier we’d wait near to last to ask for pictures with them and their signatures. Flash, scream and repeat.

“Great show tonight,” Isay squeak to Matt as I stand next to him for his picture. After the flash goes off El hands the camera to me and takes my place next to Matt.

“Glad ya’ enjoyed it love,” His accent is way heavier then Ivanna’s and much hotter. El hands him a little sheet of paper and a pen, I pull out a silver sharpie from my jean pocket. “Have a favourite moment?”

“Ugh that’s a hard one, all the songs kicked ass an’ the mosh was fucking intense.” He chortles as he takes my sharpie; I pull my leg up with my knee bent and point at the area near my knee. His hand cups behind my knee as he signs and I know a showcase grin is spread across my face. The silver signature shines nicely against the black denim; I run my hand over it before dropping my foot to the ground.

El struck up a conversation with Jay as he was signing something for a guy; I stuff my sharpie back in my pocket and after a couple of seconds catch myself staring at Matt.

“Nice lil’ city yeh have ‘ere,”

“Ha, this is about as good as it gets.”

“’Is kind of gloomy,”

“You a rock star I’m sure you’ve seen your share of gloom and doom places.” He chortles lightly and lets this bright smile slip pass.

“Yeh girl’s care ta’ join us at a bar?” Asks Jay (who stepped a step closer to Matt); El and I exchange a look of fucking totally, it’s not like anyone is carded around here anyway.

“We’d fucking love-“

“We can’t,” I sputter in a rush surprising El and the two guys. “…We have to go.” I say taking hold of her arm and spinning us on the spot, “Great show and I hope to see you guys again!” I call as I pull El reluctantly up the sidewalk, away from two guys who could have made our year.

A violent swish bounces around in the lower lip of my stomach and intestines bugle and contract in patternedthrobs beats. Some big beasty just had to ruin my night…

“I gotta jet, get a cab home.” I mutter to El, pulling an emergency switchblade out from the inside of my boot.

“No way!” She scoffs with an eye roll; I know exactly how she’s feeling. Once I find the son of a’ demons that have interrupted my night I’m not going easy on them.

“Get home.” I tell her before turning and sprinting up the semi-active main street. The open switchblade tightly held in my left hand and ready for battle. My own feet smacking against the pavement is tuned out as I listen narrowly to the surrounding sounds: other footsteps, twigs snapping, doors closing and trash can lids sliding; oh and that person pleading for help.

Down a street making a left and up that street I turn to a right only to turn right again-leading me right to where I began: in front of the venue. I bite on my lower lip and stand still with a foot on the curb and a foot in the street. All the remaining fans seemed to have packed it up and went home or whatever, the only thing left on the street are the two tour buses. The lights are off on the inside so I guess the band is still inside, I glance over at the front doors but there’s no light seeping through the cracks. “Hmm…” I wonder out loud in a murmur…

My toes slam against the curb in a jolt, a deafening wild cry breaks the silence alarming my Slayer senses. I grip the knife tighter, my nails pricking against my pink, fleshy palm. I whistle lightly, trying to coax out whatever ugly that was hiding maybe twenty feet ahead of me in the shadows of the buildings. Another cry washes over the street and floods out my whistle, whatever it was it was moving towards me. Just as I’m wanting.

I take a couple of steps forward, my forearm sticking out at an angle from my side with the silver blade shining in the lights of the small twinkling stars and the one street lamp that was working. I whistle in a tune, Tear’s Don’t Fall, and if it wasn’t so life or death right now I’d boast. That isn’t an easy tune to whistle tastefully.

A crack of skin, like the morphing of a face, no vampire I’ve ever heard. Maybe it’s one of those big bad mofo’s that never mutated with the human kind. Another wail rips through the street and I can feel it surge through me, like in the concert-the bass, the drums and the voices.

I pull back the first I make and take a few more steps forward, my whistling a little slower now. Not a peep, I strain my hearing further, whatever it was was trying to sneak on me but I can still feel it. That tug in my gut, the prick in my temple; isn’t as bad as it sounds I don’t feel it as pain more like a vibrating signal.

I thrust my fist forwards ready to hit with the blade. My back collides with the ground densely and a groan musters in my throat. I kick up off the cement using my feet and calf muscles. I dodge a swipe at my face with long nasty claws, now getting a good look at the beastie; werewolf. Something I can’t kill. Stupid human laws. I think to myself as I dart out of another swipe. I send my leg to eight foot dogs’ shin…well what I’m calling a shin and it stumbles a bit backwards. I slam my fist against its snout, being careful of its hazardous teeth. I drop the switchblade to bring that hand crashing against its fury, cement like chest. It howls in either pain or distraction…I’m hoping for pain-

“Ow,” I groan as I lift my face from the street, springing up from my palms and back on my feet. I charge towards the brute, at last second firing my foot against its chest sending it howling backwards. I pummel my fists against its chest repeatedly, right-left left-left-right, stomping on it’s over grown paw. I smash my elbow into its gut as I turn my back to it, grabbing hold of its forearm…foreleg? Whatever fore like part of it and fling it over my shoulder. Fur scrapes against my face and neck; an ugly smack rises against the street after it lands on its back. I jump on the man-dog before it can move, sending fist after fist against its ugly, snarling, furred mug.