Moon shadow
By- Monki-From- Hell
A/N- Looking at old Cat Stevens of my mother and father, I dreamed this one up. I didn't, however, dream up Remus Lupin, Harry Potter, any of Cat Stevens's lyrics, grape nuts, or any sort of clothing line. Don't sue. You'll get your ass kicked by my lawyer.
There was ash-like gray hair on his back, pricking up from the scarred skin, rough and sharp, like needles. Then there was the curve of his spine, the sprouting of a tail, the ripping of white, fanged teeth through vulnerable pink gums. Last came the eyes, alight and bloodshot--no longer that of a human.
He didn't know it, but he was naked.
( I'm being followed by a moon shadow
Moon shadow, moon shadow.)
Naked, although covered with thickets of tufted fur, and armed with beastly teeth.
( Leapin' and hoppin' on a moon shadow, Moon shadow, moon shadow)
There was no food. The wolf had realized long ago; never the rich taste of flesh in his mouth, only his own legs and bottom to sink his sharp teeth into. Never a snack.
( And if I ever lose my hands, Lose my plough, lose my lands. And If I ever lose my hands Oh if I ever lose my hands, I won't have to work no more.)
Sickly brownish-yellow stuffing from the slashed chairs covers the ground, dusty and rank. All the furniture was bitten, too, in the wolf's blind rage, beyond sympathy, beyond all help.
So lost, and only a young boy.
( And if I ever lose my legs, I won't moan and I won't beg. Yes If I ever lose my legs,
Oh if I ever lose my legs, I won't have to walk no more)
He felt more than any other animal, although he was one for just once a month. Hurt, need, pain, doubt, and shame were forever instilled in him all forged from becoming a monster a select few days out of the year. Forever doomed to be misunderstood, unaccepted, and half dead for the remainder of his life.
( I'm being followed by a moon shadow, Moon shadow, moon shadow.)
He awakens that morning to the grainy discomfort of dirt on his back and a deep gash on his wrist.
He does not wince.
He knows that he will forever be followed by the shadow of the constant white moon.
By- Monki-From- Hell
A/N- Looking at old Cat Stevens of my mother and father, I dreamed this one up. I didn't, however, dream up Remus Lupin, Harry Potter, any of Cat Stevens's lyrics, grape nuts, or any sort of clothing line. Don't sue. You'll get your ass kicked by my lawyer.
There was ash-like gray hair on his back, pricking up from the scarred skin, rough and sharp, like needles. Then there was the curve of his spine, the sprouting of a tail, the ripping of white, fanged teeth through vulnerable pink gums. Last came the eyes, alight and bloodshot--no longer that of a human.
He didn't know it, but he was naked.
( I'm being followed by a moon shadow
Moon shadow, moon shadow.)
Naked, although covered with thickets of tufted fur, and armed with beastly teeth.
( Leapin' and hoppin' on a moon shadow, Moon shadow, moon shadow)
There was no food. The wolf had realized long ago; never the rich taste of flesh in his mouth, only his own legs and bottom to sink his sharp teeth into. Never a snack.
( And if I ever lose my hands, Lose my plough, lose my lands. And If I ever lose my hands Oh if I ever lose my hands, I won't have to work no more.)
Sickly brownish-yellow stuffing from the slashed chairs covers the ground, dusty and rank. All the furniture was bitten, too, in the wolf's blind rage, beyond sympathy, beyond all help.
So lost, and only a young boy.
( And if I ever lose my legs, I won't moan and I won't beg. Yes If I ever lose my legs,
Oh if I ever lose my legs, I won't have to walk no more)
He felt more than any other animal, although he was one for just once a month. Hurt, need, pain, doubt, and shame were forever instilled in him all forged from becoming a monster a select few days out of the year. Forever doomed to be misunderstood, unaccepted, and half dead for the remainder of his life.
( I'm being followed by a moon shadow, Moon shadow, moon shadow.)
He awakens that morning to the grainy discomfort of dirt on his back and a deep gash on his wrist.
He does not wince.
He knows that he will forever be followed by the shadow of the constant white moon.