[Forsaken] Viddy Well, Brother

[lucara.livejournal.com]

So, I had this old scene where my werewolf's pack found and fought a ridden. Been meaning to write it for a while but found it a tad dull to tell in the usual way, so tried a new approach. Comments appreciated.



There was me, that is Jack, and my three packmates; that is Ivy, Andre and Gort. And we ran beneath the moon, she hung in the sky all silver and glorious like, just urging us on as we made our way through the forests. We sped along, oh my brother, paws making quick work of this short journey and before we knew it there we stood just waiting as we viddied what lay before us.
 
The house was all locked up tight, like a mighty big vault with light that shone from behind locked windows. And here it fell to your humble narrator to make the way, it having been decided upon before we had run all this way.
 
So up I crept to the door, and pressing an ear to it I heard the most strange and terrible sounds my brother. Like the yowling and hsssk hsssk hsssk of cats and I thought to myself that perhaps there may be more koshkas mewling away in there than we had first thought.
 
But by now I was feeling a malenky bit edgy, that real good feeling one gets before the claws come out and the blood flies. So I knocked on the door, just as we had plotted and planned, and waited for the woman to come and open it. And when she did, oh the great stink that rose up from that house! The smell of koshka piss and fur and still they mewled and tried to spill out from behind the door, not caring at all for the old sooka who tried to keep them back, grasping at her skirts to try to make like, a wall of sorts.
 
“Excuse me mrs,” I said in my best rehearsed voice, “there’s been a terrible accident,” but before the words could leave my lips the dirty old sooka was trying to close the door, and hsssk hsssk hsssking like one of her mangy koshkas.
 
Now me and my packmates had our maskies, being so near the road we were being very cautious, and I had my fine red bandanna that I now pulled down over my face. And in we went, forcing down the door real horrorshow as we all ran in, the sooka running back in her hoard of koshkas all hissing and spitting like devils, and her now showing claws that matched them.
 
Oh yes, it was then that we knew for sure what we would do, my brothers. It was a symphony, a glistening, glittering thing of gorgeous gorgosity as we fell upon her with our own claws drawn. Teeth and knives and claws met in the bitva that followed. And then, as claws met flesh I slooshied the red, red kroovy. It flowed out in great rivers, caring not at all for up or down it would seem, sending beautiful trails of colour twisting through the air before falling finally to the ground.
 
The music dimmed and finally we came back down to our more usual way of being, all of us fashed and dashed and smashed from the energy used in the glorious bit of ultraviolence we had seen. And the mangy old sooka lay dead, her eyes lifted up to Bog in heaven and her skin still all twisted and strange from the thing that had made her its home for all this time.
 
So with the moon still like, watching over us we ran from here again. Drinking in the sweet ecstasy of the hunt, the sounds of the bitva still echoing in our ears like music of heaven, and all things somehow glowing in our sight.