aggression

The coppery taste of blood, was a unique taste, one that could not be confused with anything else. 
The large werewolf pulled back his massive head, and arched his back, as he let out a vicious howl.
At his hairy, clawed feet, were the remains of some poor creature who had been in the giant beasts path.  The creature was nondiscriminatory in it's choice of food, and often the first creature that it found, was unlucky enough to become it's first meal.
Blood glistened on the beasts face, and neck, and the tip of the pink tongue, delicately licked around the edges of the razor sharp fangs. 
The creature was horrible to look at.  The wolf-like head was mounted on a thick hair-covered neck, that connected it to giant, knotted, shoulders, and a thick, barrel-like chest.  The knotted, muscly shoulders ran down to large claw tipped hands, and the black and gray fur, that covered the beast, ran to the tips of the fingers.  It's face was unlike a wolf's, the mouth was full of rows of razor sharp teeth,  and the blood-shot, yellow eyes, betrayed a deep inner turmoil.
Again the beast raised it's head and let out another, blood-curdling cry, as if it were cursing the moon, which floated full overhead.  The howl ended in a low mournful whimper, and the creature seemed to attack itself for a minute, ripping fur, and flesh from it's body.
Inside this creature, a battle was raging, and the external world seemed to float away.  There were two beings, locked in struggle, stuck in this, hairy, ravenous form, and they fought for control of the body they inhabited.
John had not always been this hate-filled, twisted creature. Once he had lived a normal life.  His one great failing was his temper.  It had gotten him in trouble his entire life, and now his lack of control could lead to far worse.
The full-moon, had always caused him to change, ever since he had been bitten, but his temper could control the change as well.  The legends  of werewolves were half lies, half truths, but mostly ill conceived notions of people who knew little, and should have said even less.
The changes had happened for hundreds of years, and over time, John had worked on his temper. But, the full-moon was still the bane of his existence, and he changed regardless of the control he had over his emotions and being.
Inside the hairy creature, John fought with a presence that was much older than he was, and this presence was one of chaos and destruction.  The world was it's playground, and it's occupants were nothing more than dinner.  It had no thoughts of control, no thoughts of the consequences of it's actions.  It was everything that John tried to get rid of in his life, and yet, here he was, trapped in his own body, with the very emotions he tried to escape. 
There was never a time when either was alone inside this body they shared.  It was a matter of who had control, and how long they could hold on to that power.
The first years after John had been bitten were the worst, his fight with his own emotions often lead to a more important battle, to stop himself from transforming into this hateful creature.  Over time, John, had learned to control his own emotions, but controlling the emotions of the bestial presence, that shared his body with him, seemed an altogether impossible task.
His sensitive nose caught the scent of another living creature nearby, and the beast inside him, led John in a silent pursuit of it's newest meal. As they drew closer, John could tell that the animal they were following was a cow.  He had been through enough malicious, butchering of the animals to know their scent. 
The trees flew by, as the wolf-like creature, ran and bounded through the dark forest.  He could feel the cool breeze, that foretold the open meadow in front of him.  The bright moonlight exposed the countryside, and John had no trouble making out the smallest details of everything he passed. 
As they ran, John had temporarily relinquished his attempts to gain control, he had learned a long time ago that when the beast was in the middle of the hunt, there was no use in trying to wrest control from his opposite.
The cow had picked up the creatures scent, and as it bolted, it's pitiful moo's echoed in the moonlight.  There was little chance the animal would escape, over the years, John's counterpart had become an excellent hunter, and John could not remember the last time a person, or animal had been able to escape.
Another scent soon reached the creatures sensitive nose, and as the beast ran, it's nostrils flared to take in the new scent.  This new smell worried John.  He had come to grips with the death of the cow, but this new smell was human.
He had time to build the energy to fight the beast.  The creature would go after the cow first, and then it would move on to the human. 
The terrified heifer was within sight, and the werewolf increased it's speed as soon as it's prey was visible.  A human was running from the nearby farm, and in his hands he held a shotgun.  The poor human had little idea of what was really concealed in the blanket of night. 
It was only moments latter, and they were on top of the cow.  His razor sharp teeth, ripped through the soft hide, into the pink flesh, that lay beneath, and the cow made a pitiful sound in protest.  Soon the claws went to work on the delicate, soft, skin on the underside of the cow's neck. 
Once again, blood flowed across the creature's mouth, and the coppery taste flooded his senses.  The cow let out a final sigh, as it's lungs expelled the rest of the air that had once sustained it. 
John could hear the human yelling, but the other presence was to busy devouring the poor creature at it's feet.  It was only a matter of time however, before the beast would sense it's next meal, as the foolish human ran, waving his arms, and yelling.
The man was now close enough to be able to make out the scene in front of him, and he raised his gun, and took a shot.The buck-shot, of the shotgun, tore through the beasts flesh, and before the pellets had struck the ground, John could feel his body mending the wound.
The pellets were pushed from his body, as muscles and tissue, writhed and wrestled to fill the wound, that had been caused by the farmers shot. 
The injury was of no concern, but the wound had raised the beast from his reverie over his last meal, and now the blood-shot yellow eyes, were focused on the trembling man.
A howl wrest itself from his throat, this was shortly followed by a vicious growl that foretold the eminent attack.
The beast leapt at the man, and it covered the thirty feet between them in one bound.  It's fangs were barred, and it's claws were poised to rip the man's innards from the soft pink flesh of his stomach, but for some reason the farmer could not fathom, the creature did not attack. 
Again, the beast threw back it's head and released another echoing howl, and then it bound into the night, and soon was out of the farmers sight. 
The Beast again tore at it's own flesh as it ran, but this time it was the other presence that was trying to rip John from the body they both shared.  It was a minor thing in all reality, but it was a victory in John's mind. 
He had been able to stop the beast from killing the man, it was the first time he had ever been able to control his counterpart.  He came to grips with the fact that, his counterpart would always intrude upon his life, and his anger and aggression would always be there, but now he could intrude in the beasts life, and at least there was balance.
A little good in the chaos, a little chaos inside himself.


Ian Johnson