I like the night. When the only sounds are bugs and the only light is from the moon. It's a peaceful time that I use to get the most work done. Sure, my sleep schedule isn't exactly the best. But the sheer satisfaction of knowing how much I got done in a single night fuels me well enough. However, I don't live in an area where howls are an occurrence. Every lawn in the neighborhood only has one or 2 trees so woodland creatures beyond birds and squirrels are pretty much impossible.
I don't turn on my light, instead, I grab a weaker flashlight and a gun. The weak flashlight because too much light and my eyes get unused to the dark. As for the gun? I'm just paranoid as hell. Turning on the flashlight, I briefly put it in my mouth to load a shell into the chamber of my Ithaca 37. It's a classic and the slam-fire is my second favorite firing type. With 4 rounds in the magazine and 1 in the chamber, I went over to the closet. The howling had stopped, but I could hear heavy footsteps outside of my house. Getting an armor vest out, I slipped it over my head. After securing the vest I put the flashlight in a little sleeve, allowing both hands to stay on my shotgun while keeping the light straight. Good thing, because it was 3 AM. Well, if there was ever a time for weird shit to happen. I patrolled past every window. I could still hear those footsteps, and for once I'm glad I wore socks to bed. I didn't need them hearing me as well. Finally coming to the front of the house, I turn my flashlight down to the floor.
Slowly peeking out the window, I see 3 massive figures pacing right outside the glow of my porch light. I bring my flashlight back up, shining right at the creatures. Immediately, 3 sets of eyes snap towards me. And the only thing I could think was, 'those ain't wolves'. I began to backstep as the red eyes of fucking werewolves began coming closer. I made it 5 steps before the first one burst through the door. I pulled the trigger and buckshot flew at its center of mass. 8 pellets impacted its torso. I was hoping it would've just fallen over and died, but considering the growl it gave me, it wasn't. Pumping the gun, the next shot fired as soon as the forend met the end of its cycle. I had aimed a little higher this time, causing a couple of shots to hit its mask. Sure, it cracked, but the feeling of one of them hitting my vest and knowing that nearly backfired made me fix my next shot.
I had begun backing up as soon as I had fired the second shot. I knew I wouldn't be able to kill these things with anything but slugs, but I hadn't exactly planned on my intruders being more than human. The third shot caused the beast to stumble as it tried to run at me. It sure as hell hurt, but it still wasn't lethal. But I wouldn't bother firing my next shot at it. Instead, I fired at the beast that had entered right behind it. By the time the fifth shell had been chambered, I bumped into the end of my hall. Running into my room, I grabbed a rifle from the top of my closet.
An M1 Garand. While not my best choice, it was the first rifle I grabbed with some real kick. Stepping back out my room, all 3 of those werewolves were closing in. Slamming a clip into the rifle, I aimed straight at the chest of the most injured. A single shot and the beast slowed for a moment, before finally collapsing. It seems the other two were surprised by this death if their hesitance was anything to go by. I didn't have such hesitance. 3 .30-06 rounds quickly found themselves in the second most injured beast. 2 in the chest, one in the abdomen. The death was a bit less dramatic with how fast it hit the floor. The last one got 4 shots, 1 in the chest, 2 in the abdomen, and 1 went straight into its knee.
The ping of an empty M1 brought a smile to my face. Gently placing the rifle against my door frame, I swung the Ithaca back around by its sling. One shell left for this thing. Stomping on the back of its head, I placed the barrel at where I thought the base of its skull would be. A trigger pull and some buckshot and muzzle blast blew the inside of its head apart hard enough that the bone mask on its face practically popped off. Picking up the mask, I looked at where the other two had fallen, just to see some dust dissipate into the air. Staring at the body next to me, I watched as it turned to dust and disappeared. The only left behind of the encounter were the spent shells and cartridges littering my floor and the bone in my hand.
Going back into my room, picking up my M1 and its empty clip on the way, I put the mask on my desk. Setting the guns on my bed, I grab the proper ammo from a box under my bed. Reloading the en bloc entirely and putting 5 more shells into my Ithaca. I put everything but the Ithaca away. I do a quick patrol of the house one more time. Making sure there are no more dust werewolves or anything else out there. Finally, I return to my room. Turning off the flashlight and setting it next to the Ithaca, I let out a sigh. I was exhausted as hell. Putting the vest back in my closet, I grab a sweat rag and dry off before finally getting back in bed.
I fell asleep almost instantly, but if I had stayed awake just a little longer, I would have noticed the moon outside of my window being shattered.
