Twilight Travel

A mystic rebirth of myth feared.

Men.21times@gmail.com
The Mayhem
2 min readJun 27, 2022

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Twas beneath the twinkle of the nights guard I first felt hint of the changes to come.

I had always been a lone wolf meek in my interactions of others, untrusting and distant, for so often they had proved to be unworthy.

This hint of the day I felt something different, resentment and bloodlust.

My first taste at wanting to inflict pain in place of the usual compassion I had always displayed. My first disregard for the safety of myself and those around me.

Perhaps it was my disorientation of being away from home in a land foreign to me. The night releasing a certain freedom as I watched the fog hang low above the moors of north-eastern Yorkshire. With no recollection of how I had crossed the pond and even less interest in discovery, I wandered the UK hillsides as any other animal in the wild.

I could sense things in the distance as well as those near to me, no matter if they stood above two legs or four. Each presenting a certain aroma reminding me of meals past had, but these inklings were less towards the plated presentation, and more to the trill of the hunt.

I felt a certain confidence in swag and breath walking between the blades and roughness of the countryside as it combed my ribcage like a lover in foreplay. When the clouded blanket was peeled from the moon in hiding, a surge not unlike the rush of pleasure that lover might gift, traveled my veins begging gated run, as well as victim chase.

Hardly containing myself I howled call to the luminous globe, in hope others might respond, and game be forewarned. Meek had deserted me this night of rebirth as well as the man I may have once been.

The fear of being hunted had been shed along with the skin of what I was, replaced and reinforced with a needful desire to inhale nothing but open space, and the crimson of any who crossed me.

I was now the wild in motion, and man just another choice of nourishment, deserving of the hell I promised to bring to its threshold.

The moon smiling at my serenade, raining down light upon the land now mine to roam.

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Men.21times@gmail.com
The Mayhem

Patient of life, attempting to heal oneself by Quill. Transitioning from a profession of technology.