New Birth

A young woman wakes to find she can't remember anything, and nothing is as it should be.

              The young woman awoke trembling, unaware of her surroundings. Stumbling off into the darkness, something pulled at her from within. What is this? A growing pain within the pit of her stomach begged for something, but not food.

She couldn’t remember anything. Her memory had been wiped clean. How long had she been unconscious? Where was she? Who was she? She stumbled by a pond, still and clear, in a small glade.

Her reflection startled her. A dirty dress hung in rags around her skeletal form. Long brown hair hung in matted knots around her dirty face. Her brown eyes searched the reflection for any hint of identity.

Bending to drink, she stopped short of breaking the surface of the water. Her hands came to her face, searching to see if the reflection was true. Her teeth, white and straight, were offset by two larger, two smaller fangs, set toward the back and razor sharp. Something in her mind screamed warning.

This can’t be normal. What was she? There’ll be time to figure things out later.

She leaned again toward the water’s surface. Again, just before she got a drink, she noticed something else. What’s this?

Her hand went to the spot on her neck. She would have thought it was dirt except for the even space between points. Even in the darkness, she knew it wasn’t dirt. It flaked off in her hands, leaving her neck smooth. She sniffed it, dried blood.

Tasting it, she confirmed that it was indeed blood. Without another thought, she put the flakes in her mouth. The pain in her stomach gave an encouraging subsidence. It was blood that she craved.

Reviled by that thought, she shoved water into her mouth. Her stomach groaned in protest, but accepted the water. After drinking all she could, she stood before the shattered pool could heal itself. She did not want to look at her reflection again.

Turning, she ran into the woods, pushing through trees and bushes, not caring about the scrapes and scratches they left on her bare legs. What creature had done this too her? Had she fought? Why couldn’t she remember?

Then suddenly the trees stopped and then the ground changed. She stumbled and fell, skinning her knees and palms on concrete. After a moment, she sat back, stunned.

What is this? Where am I now? Exasperated, she slowly looked around, carefully taking in her surroundings.

Immediately to her back, stretching to either side was a short span of grass running like a green ribbon in between the trees and the concrete. A group of buildings, short and squat, stood in front of her. From where she sat looking at them, they all looked alike.

Grayish brown, split level homes with quaint porches and attached garages clustered together in the suburban landscape. Some had fences.  Some had dogs.  The light of the full moon made it easy to see. In some of the windows, lights betrayed some signs of life, even at this late hour.

Footsteps came toward her, nearly silent. She turned quickly to see what was approaching. A dog, big and lumbering, trotted along the path toward her. She couldn’t tell what kind it was, probably a mixed breed, but it was curious about her and she was hungry.

As it came nearer, without thinking, she grabbed it, wrestled it to the ground and broke its neck, all before it could howl. Her speed surprised her, and before it really hit her what she was doing, she knelt and placed her face next to the dog’s neck. Using her new fangs, she pierced the skin beneath the fur and drank its blood while it was still warm.

The blood filled her and warmed her and as the pain in her stomach dissipated, she stood. The dog wore no collar, but feelings of regret began to surface. Slowly picking up the dog, she walked back through the trees to the small pond. Laying the dog down among the tall grasses, she wept, but only for a moment.

Standing, she looked down at the dog. Whatever had done this to her, she would find it. Somehow, she would remember what happened, and reclaim her identity. For now, all she was was a monster. For now, she would hide. Nothing would drive her to kill again.

She knelt again beside the dog and gently stroked its fur. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. Getting up, she turned back to the suburban homes and ran.

Author's Note

This is the beginning of something bigger, but I haven't really though about where it should go yet.

Reviews

[Pen The Willows]

Good story so far. This could be the story's preface, like in the Twilight Saga!