Time has no healing power. What good does the tick, tock, of a clock do to mend your wounds? It only serves as a measurement of how long you get to breathe. How long you can survive until the next wave hits. What’s the wave? The fear, the anxiety of the unknown. You want to be in control of your fate; it’s your life, after all. But it’s not your decision to make. No. You’re incapable of making the right decisions, the right calls, never at the right moment. Time tells those mistakes; it whispers it to the walls of space. All that’s left afterwards is your scars to prove it.
That’s one thing time can prove: the pain of your mistakes are left to sear and scatter across your skin until a garish blush of it is left engrained to your body. What can you consider the time I have on here? A friend? An enemy? Perhaps neither; it is pointless to turn bitter about results out of your grasp. Then again, that’s when a power called nature came knocking at my door.
Nature whispers about something coming. What was it? What do I need to prepare for? No matter how many questions I had, no answers were given. At least, not the ones I was looking for. The only hints were the unsettling movements in my gut, and the aching of my bones. I didn’t know what it was. What was happening to me. All I knew was that I wanted it to stop, make it stop, someone, please!
But no one heard me.
Now, I am left to fend for myself. If no one will help me, then… I’ll help myself. Every night, I would look to the moon to pray to anything that might hear me for a way out. I found my answer. I finally found a way out!
Or so I thought.
Before I could understand what was happening to me, I was left to gaze in horror at the reflection staring back at me in the rivers of the forest: me, but… not me. There were these sharp, gnarly teeth, painted with crimson among the ivory. My nose had been outstretched, torn, distorted to an overgrown snout. My eyes weren’t mine for sure; those same dull brown ones couldn’t have been. The mix of brown and black amongst my body- this was no longer just skin. This was fur. I tried to swipe away at the figure staring back in horror from the water, but all it did was disrupt the flow. I swiped, and swiped, but nothing changed. What have I become?!
That was the first night I learned of my curse. Since then, I’ve hunted down not sheep, not humans, but a cure. I was neither human nor beast. To man, I am a beast. To beast, I am human. None of them want me. So I walk a lone road.
Time can’t reverse my destiny. But I must carve my route to salvation. After all, who would ever help a monster?