I woke with a startle, and checked my phone to find that it’s now three in the afternoon. In the dream, after I was attacked everything went black, and although I had that nightmare I still feel well rested. I responded to all of the messages and calls received, and became upset. Apparently, I was given the wrong information about the party, and was never given the correct info.

I toss my phone to the side, and get up to grab something to eat from the kitchen. My hunger had increased tenfold, and it felt like I’d go crazy if I didn’t get something soon. Instead of rummaging through the fridge and warming up some leftover chili I made, I immediately grabbed the raw chicken drumsticks that I was thawing for tonight’s dinner. Without thought I ripped open the package and began tearing at the chicken.

It was only halfway through did I realize what I was doing. Even with that revelation, I still continued to snack on the raw meat with tears flowing down my brown cheeks. What was I doing? I thought to myself. And yet, my hunger was being satisfied. The taste of the cold flesh and blood was a flavor indescribable, but it wasn’t bad.

After finishing, I threw away the empty packet and gulped down some water. Thoughts of calling the doctor, and reporting what’s been happening since last night had crossed my mind, but I decided not to. Instead I did a hardcore search of what I was going through on a google search, and everything led back to articles of lycanthropy.

The dreams, the consumption of raw meat, issues with my hearing, and my clear eye sight kept bringing me back to searches on werewolves. And I don’t mean the simple shapeshifting seen in Twilight with Jacob and his people. It’s more of the grotesque shifting that could be painful. My thoughts immediately went to a show called Hemlock Grove on Netflix where Peter had shifted in front of Roman. Bile rose in my throat as I recalled the gruesome transformation, and hoped that it wouldn’t happen to me.

I smacked myself upside the head at that thought, and continued to read through several lengthy articles on lycanthropy. Werewolves couldn’t be real, and couldn’t exist within the city of Chicago without people being aware. Made up fictional creatures that I’ve read in numerous stories, and seen through countless movies aren’t real. Yet there was something within me that kept telling me that I was wrong. That they do exist, and I was becoming one of them.

In my search I found an article on something called clinical lycanthropy. It said that someone that suffers from either bipolar disorder, schizophrenia, or clinical depression can experience this. The stricken individual can experience delusions of having transformed into an animal, or knowing that they can. Out of everything I’ve read online, the psychiatric condition seems to be extremely rare, and there haven’t been any recent findings of individuals afflicted.

At first I thought this could be happening to me, but no form of mental illness runs through my family. Well…at least to my knowledge. My next step would be to call my grandmother, but she’s not a reliable source. Who can I talk to about this?

My thoughts were interrupted as I heard a loud clang on my window. I immediately investigated just to find my heart drop as I looked down from the second floor window. A man well over six feet stood there staring up at me with a sly grin on his face. And although I never met him in my life, I couldn’t help but think that everything was going to change.

 

Previously: 

 

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