Masters of War

The light from the streetlamp spilled across the fractured concrete and I could smell sparks in the air, waiting for the onslaught of rain that was soon to come. I stood under that flood of light with my nose high in the air, placing each and every scent into their specific schemes. The heavy air flowed through my airways like sludge. My face shifted slightly to the right, nostrils flaring as a familiar musky smell registered in my brain. The clapping of footsteps reached my senses moments later and I slunk into the alley next to the streetlamp.

Antiquated bricks of an old bakery gnawed at my back as I pressed as far as I could go into the wall. The clapping got louder, following in step to my racing heartbeat. Beaded sweat rolled down my temple and down the nape of my neck.

Soon the footsteps came to a halt. Every hair on my body pricked as I peered around the corner of that small bakery. The first of many raindrops landed on my nose and dropped on the concrete. My eyes followed the tiny, round water stains until they landed on a pair of worn dress shoes. Anxiety coursed through my veins and clammed my palms. I could feel each of my teeth grow sharper and longer as my icy gaze took in the towering seven foot figure standing under the streetlamp. The light highlighting his arctic hair. Ocher eyes were the only thing that could be seen through the harsh shadows on his face.

I ran...

I ran in the exact opposite direction of that man. My legs pumping in expert rhythm as I made my way through the alley. I jumped over several garbage cans during my run before my eyes honed in on an opening in the alley. Just around two hundred more feet until my feet reach it. My heart went into a sporadic overdrive just before I reached my checkpoint. Shoots of fur prodded through my skin and my nails darkened and grew into claws, tearing large holes into my beat-up Chucks. My back kinked and hunched over slightly but I couldn't stop, this was life or death. The pain of Changing was becoming unbearable . My lings took in spastic breaths as I turned the sharp corner into a barren street, nails almost creating sparks on the pavement. The last thing I saw, before I completely collapsed, was the bitter glow of a gas station with the clerk reading the Sunday newspaper inside.