"The Rain Washed Over Me" by Don Anelli

The Rain Washed Over Me

by Don Anelli

Lying on the ground, covered in mud, dirt, and what feels like dried blood stains, it felt more relaxing and comforting than it should have.

I can tell I’m pretty beat up. Even though I’m still blacked out, there’s the unmistakable sense of pain coursing through my body.

My shoulder was a mess, the deep scratches that nearly ripped my shoulder from its socket was still throbbing, but it was more bearable than it had been.

That had to be a win, especially compared to how it was hours ago.

My back was now the part that was throbbing, a shooting mass of pain building up and discharging across the lower part of my waist, finally lurching me to life as the blackness of the night around me was starting to clear away. It still hurts to move, but with slow, measured bursts, I can get off my stomach and roll onto my back.

Perhaps that will stop the shooting pain.

The short, ragged breaths that I take in definitely help, but I’m still in so much pain, it feels great to take a few minutes to pause and let it die down naturally.

That’s when the rain started, light droplets falling out of the sky above me and turning the soft ground into puddles, collecting rainwater from where my fingers and toes left impressions while I flipped over.

The cool, wet air brought on by the rainwater is heavenly, a much-welcomed respite from the pain that woke me several minutes ago, and the clear rainwater falling across my face also undoubtedly helps clean it up. I have been in this mud and dirt for who knows how long.

After waiting a few minutes, I finally feel the need to try getting up. The pain has subsided at least enough to try this, and an attempt at doing so is successful enough that I’m not that put off by using all that energy to do so. I’m at a place where I can sit upright, and that’s somewhat of a victory.

Before getting to my feet, I decide to wipe the wet strands of hair from my eyes so I can see what’s going on around me. However, before I can do anything, I can see it all over my hands and arms. The unmistakable look and feel of dried blood congealed across both hands and arms, even with the fresh mud and dirt covering them.

No, I couldn’t! There’s no way it happened!

But there it was, the irrefutable proof in my hands. It had to have happened that I had killed last night!

Damn this cursed affliction! Why did it have to be me!

How did it happen anyway? I thought werewolves were only supposed to turn on full moons, but that’s a week from tomorrow? How did that happen? Are the movies and books wrong, that I can turn into one anytime there’s moonlight instead of just during that Full Moon?

This couldn’t be my fate, cursed to kill and rip apart those I love during this time. I had to do something quickly before more people were killed.

Like what happened last night.

But where was the body? Who had I killed? Would they pin it on me this time?

All these thoughts and more raced across my mind as I made my way to my feet, still slightly groggy from what had happened last night, but eventually, I did manage to get somewhat vertical. That means I can now start looking around and seeing where I am.

Jessica’s garden. Of course, it had to be Jessica’s garden.

But does that mean? No, I know better than that. Even in my animal state, I had to know better than to attack her.

Still pelted with the morning rain, I make my way to my feet and try to leave through the garden to arrive at her back door, but a clump of flesh by the porch catches my attention. It’s too far away to tell for sure, but I can tell pretty easily it’s her. She’s still wearing the clothes from last night’s date.

Through the rainfall, I stumble awkwardly over to her body and fall beside her, rolling it over so I can know for sure. It’s Jessica. The only thing I can do is break down in tears at the thought of my fiancée, ripped apart by my own hands.

After what feels like hours but was clearly only a few minutes, Jessica starts groaning and takes a few coughing breaths to get herself awake. Could it be, she was still alive after all? I hadn’t killed her!

I go to hug her and wrap my arms firmly around her, crying out that what happened wasn’t a dream, that she was still alive. But then, it clicked: she had survived a werewolf attack. Just like I had a few weeks ago.