DUST ON THE MOON

(Season 2, Episode 49)


Presented,
From the eerie self-turning pages of The Horrorwalker Travel Guide,
A tale told to a person visited by the always mysterious Horrorwalker...
A person who would rather remain anonymous at this time...
The tale of humans made monsters by the sun and the moon --
Monstrous creatures destined to eventually collide in feral war...
A tale of:
Dust On The Moon.

DUST ON THE MOON

You can just call me Igor. 

That’s all you need to know about my name.

I am a staggering 211 years old. 

My existence of undead darkness has been long and arduous. 

I started my life as a human in the old country of Bavaria. I have existed so long that I have forgotten much of my life before I was turned into what I am, but pieces of memories still fall through the cracks of my mind to remind me of what I once was.

One of the lingering memories that I have always retained is the events of the final hours before I was attacked by the random feral vampire on that All Hallows Eve night, so long ago. 

The atmosphere was cold and crisp on that dark October night. It was the first full moon night of the annual Werewolf Hunt Festival. As usual, the village only expected to capture one Werewolf that night. That successful hunt would be the undoing of one more monster that would not be able to terrorize our village, kill our women or children, or bite someone else to infect them with the full moon monster madness.

That particular event was my first Werewolf Hunt. Peter, my eldest son, had just turned 13 three days before, and as the rules of the hunt state… men with children are not allowed to hunt until their eldest sons are old enough to take over the household to protect their mothers and younger siblings, in case the father is killed during the Werewolf hunt.

The rules of our community are strict… and what they state is that a boy of 13 years of age must become a man  in the event of the death of his father… immediately, if he is killed during one of the hunts. 

Everyone involved in the hunt goes into the danger with the full knowledge that if he is bitten by the werewolf, then he will be immediately shot in the temple with a Silver Bullet of Absolution.

There is never hesitation when it comes to executing an infected human. Once bitten, the fever of lycanthropy immediately begins to affect the infected person’s mind causing him to swiftly become feral. Within minutes, the bitten is overcome by the overwhelming urge of feral self-preservation and only the swift escape into the wild gives the infected peace… until the infection completes its cycle of completion within the time of  two to three days. That process, in which the infection changes the insides of the person to ready him for his first full moon change appears to be very painful as it affects the mind, as well as the body, of the affected.

It is not a pretty sight, because of the pain involved with the process sometimes involves the infected ripping away at the flesh of his body.

I know this knowledge because my village dealt with Werewolves for thirty-two years before the elders finally decided that it was impossible to continue the futile attempts at rehabbing our brothers and sisters, our sons and daughters… those who survived the initial attacks… to try to save them when they were driven to destroy and kill under the glow of the full moon.

And, during the rest of the year, their aggression and feral biting was simply too dangerous to allow in the village. And so, Elder Markova created special silver bullets to only be used in the case of absolution. 

A silver bullet to the brain, special or not, is the way to make sure the Werewolf never returns. During those dark times, the nights were blacker than black and the days were as gloomy as the night. Thirty-seven of us had to die by silver bullet. Twenty-two died from the wounds inflicted by the Werewolves. 

Dark times, indeed.

I’ve still never seen a werewolf in 100 years. According to the monster lore, I’m suppose to be mortal enemies with Lycanthropes. I have survived this harsh existence of mine by fighting against the physical elements of the planet for my very “life” and traveling around the globe, moving from old world Poland to deep down cowboy-centric Tyler, Texas.
  

I have always thought that this mythological war that I’ve heard so much about, that is occurring between my kind and werewolves, is ridiculous nonsense…  absurd… alternate reality hokum.

I will not discount the existence of werewolves. I mean, really, I am forced to walk the night time earth in order to avoid the death rays of the sun. As absurd as my very own existence is, so then too… werewolves must exist.

But, they have to be my mortal enemy? I don‘t know about that!

Of course, if I ever meet a werewolf and he is as feral as his mythology paints him out to be… then there will obviously be a real… problem. And maybe I will gain first hand experience as to how the Vampire verses Werewolf storyline began.

I guess, if I can continue to avoid the undead death… I’ll find out one day. Now, to do what my kind must do… hunt for the blood that my human prey carries inside its body before the moonlight dips below the horizon and the sun rises to burn me to dust. That is kind of like the caveat for the relationship between the moon and the werewolf. We both are cursed by our relationship with the moon… and the sun. Where will it all end?

Maybe the end will come when this vampire and that werewolf finally meet. Maybe, one day…

IRO