"The Stranger"

Blood.

It soaked my gloved hand as I dug it into the dog's stomach. It stopped moving long ago, I just needed to scavenge.

Liver was missing, lungs as well. Testicles were torn off-those sold very well. The ribcage was exposed and the intestines were laid about on the grassy plane.

I pulled my machete out, dug the blade in the opening, and pried. Maggots. Lots of them. I pulled out my bloody backpack, unzipped it, placed it beside the corpse, and proceeded to stuff the maggots inside.

It wasn't much, but it should get me by. With all these beasts around, I'm sure they'd die for a quick snack. If I wait long enough, the maggots will get bigger. The bigger, the better.

The smell was revolting to say the least, but I'd gotten used to it long ago.

The blood smelled like old pennies, a smell I always liked for some strange reason.

Perhaps I was adapting finally.

Then again, I was never bothered by the smell or even touching bloody intestines. However the idea of a once beloved animal being killed broke my heart and I just couldn't bring myself to digging into its stomach.

I must've shed enough tears because it all just never phases me. Not now. Not ever again.

A tear went down my cheek as I stuffed the last of the maggots in the backpack. It was happening again.

I let the emotions flow, if I didn't, I'd end up dead.

Once the maggots were festering at the bottom of the pack, I grabbed strings of intestines and stuffed them in alongside the maggots before I zipped the bag up.

I stood and a problem came up.

A growl from behind.

I froze and my grip on the holstered machete tightened.

My right pinkie unbuttoned the holster.

It came closer.

Too close for my liking.

If I spun around too fast and became reckless with my swings, I'd be eaten.

If I didn't spin around in time, I'd be eaten.

If I end up on the ground, I'd be eaten.

I had to be pitch-perfect if I wanted to see the raging, yellow sun rise over the empty, bleak horizon.

I unholstered the machete and spun around, swing in motion.

Directly in front of my face was a hideous humanoid creature with big hands and bigger claws, the feet were huge and the nails were overgrown, and the face was morphed and twisted with its teeth sharp and bloody. The bright blue eyes shined, as if they were two beautiful stars that contained a terrible wrath and it wanted to unleash and eat and kill everything that dared to exist in its precinity.

And I just happened to turn at the worst moment: An inch away from my face, mouth wide open.

I had stared into the abyss before and that was a very long time ago when I was only twelve years old.

I gazed into the abyss and the abyss gazed into me.

A sort of mutual understanding.

As soon as my eyes dwelled further and further in the darkness, I realized I had that same mutual understanding with this beast.

It wanted me.

And it got me.

Swallowing my head whole, its tongue wrapped around my face and its rancid breath huffed and puffed.

The abyss swallowed me, but I still moved.

I still had a chance.

Not yet because once I realized I was still alive, the seven foot werewolf stood up, its big hands grabbed my legs and its claws dug into my calves.

I began to descend head-first into the abyss.

As I had gotten deeper, the smell became worse and the darkness completely consumed not only my vision and my entire body, it consumed my soul.

The deep spirit inside me rose almost in an instant.

Rage.

Just as soon as the abyss consumed me, the rage consumed me as well.

I'd argue what I felt in that moment was more powerful than this foul beast could ever imagine.

Machete still in hand, I dug the three-inch blade into its fleshy tunnel as I descended.

A howl erupted and a horrible screech followed, it deafened me but I didn't care.

Once my handle on the machete improved, so did my stabs and scrapes.

If I was going to die, I wanted to take this thing with me, along with every single thing that dared to breathe in my presence, that dared to look at me, that dared to exist.

I stabbed, again and again, a never ending process that made my numb arm ache and sore, but I kept going.

I didn't stop.

I couldn't stop.

I couldn't resist.

I could never think of stopping.

It felt amazing.

The screech and howls of pain sung to my ears.

A simple lullaby I could never stop listening to.

Before I knew it, the beast died and fell face-down.

I still kept stabbing.

I didn't stop because I loved this.

As if this beast's rage replaced mine, or if my untapped fury and wrath was far more powerful.

I couldn't say.

All I knew was it felt amazing.

I was scared, but I screamed at the top of my lungs out of joy and sheer victory.

I swore and cursed and screeched.

It consumed me.

Then before I knew it, I was cut open. They told me I was stuck in that stomach for a day and a half.

Apparently I was getting popular and people saw and heard the scene.

Newspapers were printed and media sparked a headline.

So that's how I ended up here.

I didn't know I'd end up in a place like this.

I thought I was going to end up in the abyss.

I always assumed that idea.

It was cynical and bleak, but it felt fitting.

I couldn't even go outside.

They didn't allow me to leave and a part of me didn't blame them, but that rage screamed like a distant childhood memory, it wanted more, it needed more.

They were afraid of me, I could tell.

And I didn't blame them.

I knew what I was.

I knew how I got here.

And I loved it.

But I didn't forget.

I remembered everything.

I swore that the rage never left me.

How could it?

It came in as easily as that beast swallowed me.

As the abyss swallowed me.

Still, it was fun to dream.

But I never forgot.

I'll never forget.

Never. Again.

The entire pub stared at me. Most were shocked and some were concerned.

They were amazed.

They were afraid.

I gazed at them and they gazed at me.

I gazed into the abyss and the abyss gazed into me.

The microphone in front of me was quietly taken from my mouth as the owner spoke off the microphone with his hand on my shoulder, "You okay?"

I answered, "Sure. Just thirsty. You got water?"

He pointed at the water fountain in the back beside the bathrooms.

I stepped off the stage as the owner spoke into the microphone, "Now, let's hear it from 'Lucky Seven'!"

The band appeared on stage, but nobody spoke a word. Nobody made a sound.

I could feel all of their eyes on me.

I sipped from the water fountain for a long moment.

"Excuse me. Sir."

I turned and saw an older man.

It was strange. I was only fifteen and I knew to follow this man.

Whoever he was, he knew more than I did.

"I was told you survived the werewolf attack. My friends would like to see you at the station, it's nothing major, just a wellness check."

I sipped more from the fountain before I followed him out of the pub and down the street.

Everybody stared at me as I followed the man.

I was taken in the station, questioned extensively, and before I knew it, I was met with a Dr. Malinder. A psychologist.

After what felt like an eternity, I was locked up in this hospital.

I didn't have a straightjacket, but I was given an outfit all the inhabitants had to wear.

They fed me, they gave me water, they treated me well.

I still had a week left and I was supposed to be questioned again.

They must've followed my trail for a long time because so many witnesses accounted for my monster hunting.

I couldn't believe it.

Yet it didn't surprise me.

They told me I wasn't allowed to hunt monsters anymore, despite my skill, approach, and sheer determination.

I was sad to hear the news, but I ultimately understood.

I was supposed to be back in my hometown and have a helper.

Carrie Misworth was her name.

We talked before and she was the one that carried out the questioning sometimes and I really liked her.

Then again, I liked the others as well, Dr. Malinder was a good guy.

I wondered if they had seen anyone else like me.

I'd say yes, but then again this was a rare thing to happen.

I rested my head on the pillow and felt safe.

For once, I felt safe.

Secure.

Comfortable.

Proud.

I made it.

For so long, I seeked serenity and peace to no avail.

Until now.

It was funny how it worked like that.

I closed my eyes only to gaze into the abyss again.

I gazed into the abyss as it gazed into me.

For once, I felt comfortable.

I felt happy.