Home > Flash Fiction, Horror, Were > New Clothes

New Clothes

I am really busy and don’t have much to say. I need more hours. So, let’s just go straight to the story.

I felt like writing a werewolf story this week. I hope you enjoy it.

L. E. White

New Clothes

Joseph slapped his hand to his side, trying to relieve the stabbing pain that was racing up his ribs in waves by putting pressure on it.  He hadn’t run this much since his days as a recruit and then it wasn’t normally done in full armor.  He panted, cursing his age and his pipe while fighting to get enough air  to keep his legs moving.

“Almost there,” he chanted.  “One more stair and I will be at the door.”

He heard the beast crash into the door as it hurled its body against the smooth oak.  He had watched it do the same thing against the keep’s outer door.  They had dropped rocks on it and shot arrows through it, but it would rise again and continue its assault.

When he reached the landing, the old guard offered a silent prayer to the Four.  He heard the monster hit the door again, and this time, he heard the wood crack.

Joseph put the bar into place, hoping that it would give him a few extra minutes to get Lady Hummel out of the tower, and hurried across the room.

“My Lady,” he called. “My Lady, we must leave. A giant wolf has entered the keep.”

He looked around, staring in shock at the shredded bedclothes and overturned trunks. He saw blood on the walls where it was thrown in graceful arcs that reached to the ceiling. “It came here first.”

The man held his chest, fighting against the tears that had started to chase each other over his leathery cheeks. He headed to the ruins of the window, but fell to his knees when he saw the pile of gore that lay upon the carpet in front of it.

Joseph crawled to it, and wiped his eyes before reaching out a single finger to touch it.

Years of campaigning and countless battles had hardened Joseph to the sight of blood and bodies. He had handed out both death and aid, yet when he examined what was left of his lord’s lady, his stomach rolled and he had to turn his head to keep from vomiting on what remained.

He collected himself as the monster scratched at the door like a cur wanting in out of the rain. Joseph ignored the door, and gripped two long braids of hair. He clenched his teeth to steady his nerve before lifting his arm.

The creature slammed against the door, but Joseph didn’t notice. He stared at the misshaped visage of the woman, rosy cheeks and dark hair left behind. Her skin has been shed like a set of clothes, peeled off and thrown to the floor by a tavern wench. Beyond the gash up the back, everything was intact.

The door shook and cracked as the monster slammed against it. This time, Joseph turned to look.

Another crash opened the crack enough that the beast could look inside. Joseph’s chin shivered as he looked at the light blue iris that was inside of the red rimmed, bloodshot eye that peeked through the door.

“My lady,” he said, before the beast threw itself at the door again, sending piece of wood flying across the room.

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Categories: Flash Fiction, Horror, Were
  1. April 11, 2014 at 12:56 AM

    Oops. Poor guy. Looks like he’s next.

    • April 12, 2014 at 12:44 AM

      Yeah. It does look pretty bleak.

  2. April 11, 2014 at 9:57 PM

    Hope he has weapon on him!

    • April 12, 2014 at 12:45 AM

      And he better hope its silver.

  3. April 13, 2014 at 2:27 PM

    Doesn’t look good for Joseph. Perhaps the recognition can soothe the savage beast?

    • April 14, 2014 at 7:59 AM

      Possibly, but I highly doubt it.

      Thanks for commenting.

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