Tuning into a Monster (500 words)

I woke that morning with a headache. My son tells me that’s not normal – I should get it checked out. Morning headaches, random pains, frequent nose-bleeds – just my life. I tell him, I figure if it was serious, I’d be dead by now. But I must say, they’d been happening more often in the last few months. When the first star shot by a few years ago, something in me changed. The second star lit up the sky four months ago. I felt it again. 

The news was bleak that day. Lootings, shootings, and other crimes were plastered on the headlines. There was video of cars tipped over and set ablaze. Citizens gathered in the streets, attacking police officers and throwing molotov cocktails through windows. Some stores put up wood planks to discourage entrance, but it made no impact. 

“Good thing I’m not in the city,” I said.

“Morning, honey,” my wife was behind me.

“Morning, doll face. How did you sleep?”

“Fine. What's on the news?”

“All sorts of shit,” I chuckled, “we’re staying home today.”

My stomach began to ache and cramp.

“Honey, could you make me some green tea?” I asked.

“Too lazy to do it yourself?”

“Kinda. My stomach really hurts.”

“Okay. I’ll get it.”

The pain in my abdomen doubled in intensity before I received the cup. I felt no better. Maybe I just need to go to the bathroom. I stumbled down the hall.

“You ok, sweetie?” She asked. I couldn’t answer.

I sat on the toilet, but nothing happened. More pain. My head pounded. My heart raced. My legs found the chair. Maybe if I just focus on something, it’ll pass. I honed in on the news. Things changed. People in the street turned on each other. Some were fighting with pipes and crowbars. But some…they were fighting with claws and teeth. Cannibals all of a sudden? All of them? 

Some of the police officers attacked their peers. The reporter collapsed for a moment – only to rise, having grown claws and fangs, and attack the camera man. 

My chest pounded and pounded. I fell to the floor. My God, I’m hungry! The urges and feelings were beyond my comprehension.

“Sweetie?” Said my wife.

I looked at my hands and my fingernails had turned to claws. I clenched my jaw and fangs cut into my gums. “Get away!” I shouted.

I ran to the yard, the streets were calm, neighbors out mowing their lawns and tending to their gardens. I fell to my knees again. The pain. Oh my God, the pain. The hunger – incredible hunger. Tom, my neighbor, stood on a ladder trimming his trees.

“Johnson?” He called to me, “Johnson, you okay?”

He approached me. I didn't stop him. Everything I saw was tinted yellow. I could hear his body. I could hear his heart. I could hear his precious blood flowing through his veins. I turned to him and smelled his fear upon looking me in the eye. 

And I fed.