Two A.M.
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Original - Misc › General
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
1
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1,098
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Currently Reading:
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Category:
Original - Misc › General
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
1
Views:
1,098
Reviews:
0
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance of characters to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. The Author holds exclusive rights to this work. Unauthorized duplication is prohibited.
Two A.M.
It’s always at two in the morning.
The bell in the church chimes twice. Pauses. Chimes twice more as if to tell the sleepy little town something important was happening and the villagers needed to pay attention. Thing was, no one really was up at two in the morning. No one that is, except Arai. It was always at two in the morning, just after the second ringing of the bell that Arai woke up and couldn’t get back to sleep. He didn’t know what it was, perhaps the sound of the bell invaded his dreams, or maybe it was the way his leg seized from hip to knee, or maybe it was the way his stomach twisted like he needed to throw up. Whatever it was, it kept him from sleeping. Which he needed, desperately. The things he worked for, worked with, weren’t going to let a little thing like sleep deprivation keep him from functioning properly.
Maybe he just needed to get laid.
Of course, that was just about as likely to happen as pink rain and rainbow-colored clouds shimmering with lollipops in their puffy bodies.
Arai had a problem with people. It was probably why he preferred animals instead of humans. Of course, he needed to keep human contact. It wouldn’t be good for these people to suddenly realize that their veterinarian was a lyanthrope, let alone a lycanthrope of considerable power. Yeah, sure, Arai was hundreds of years old, but that didn’t stop a bullet through the head. Unlike others of his kind, bullets had a way of being final.
So Arai would lay in bed the moment he woke up, trying to figure out if he should make a run to the bathroom or not. Last week he’d gotten nauseous so bad he practically camped out beside the toilet. The cool porcelain had felt great on his feverish skin, and he could control his shakes a little bit better there. Unlike now. His stomach was twisting in odd ways - he was sure it had been something he had eaten - but it wasn’t moving. He had little shakes, just in his hands, but he didn’t know if he’d need to make a run for it.
That’s how insignificant they were.
Funny, really funny, really.
Arai sat up, kicking off his covers and trying not to groan as the sheer movement gave him a headrush. He planted his feet firmly on the cool wood of the floor and put his head between his knees, and tried not to imagine the consequences of moving too quickly.
His hands were shaking badly now, every time he stopped moving them, they’d vibrate. He knew what was coming, he just didn’t know when. He’d had plenty of false alarms to be quite experienced in timing, but the thing was, he had to go down a flight of stairs to get to the bathroom, and he wasn’t sure if he’d be that fast. If he threw up on the carpet, though, his landlady would be pretty pissed about it. Oh, there was a bathroom on the second floor, one much more accessible from his room. The thing was it had gone through renovations recently and he had no idea if it was good to use or not.
Arai stood up as slowly as possible and made to pace his room. Maybe it would give his stomach time to settle. Maybe he’d find some Pepto Bismol and all the twisting would stop. Yeah. He thought briefly about having some ice cream, but that would just be poking the proverbial eight-hundred pound gorilla.
Arai scratched the back of his head and wondered if his insomnia was caused by his constant little sickness. It was a possibility, after all. Or maybe he was just insane. It happened to plenty of lycanthropes - you ate too much, you partook of something that was nasty, or you lost your humanity. It was the last one that had been taking place far too much for Arai’s liking, as if something in their brain had just turned off, had just stopped saying ‘I’m human’ and started saying ‘Eat, hunt, kill, mate’. And it wasn’t just the lycanthropes that suffered, no, it was everybody. They tried to be human as much as possible, taking families, having kids. But the moment they lost hold on their humanity, those precious connections they’d tried so hard to build around themselves came crashing down. No longer were they the husband, the wife, the mother, the father - they’d become a monster, something to be feared, hunted, killed.
Arai knew this all too well.
His father had been a lycanthrope - a were bear. Somehow, Arai obtained the curse, whether it was through blood or simply because he was that unlucky. Either way, Arai became a maneless lion on his tenth birthday. On his tenth birthday, his father went insane. It wasn’t the kind of insane that meant the person attacked himself or random strangers or even the life partner. No, Arai’s father tried to kill him.
He’d asked his mother why at the hospital, and she could only stare at him and cry.
His father had been hoping never to have a child with the lycanthrope blood. Arai’s older brothers had escaped the curse, but Arai… Arai hadn’t.
Arai ran his fingers through his thin brown hair and shuddered, pressing both hands to his face. That seemed to calm his stomach somewhat, along with the pacing, so he kept moving, just trying to relax everything in his body. He wished he could will the change to his other form, but he wasn’t that skilled. He was only three hundred - how that constituted as hundreds he’d never know - but it marked him, essentially, as a baby. He was only one of five of the ‘young’ generation, every other lycanthrope being older. As far as he knew anyway.
It wasn’t like Arai wanted to be cured, either. There really wasn’t any way for him to be cured. But the people he worked for wanted him to develop one, if only to cure the insanity in his kind. And they knew about him, of course.
Arai shivered and wondered if he shouldn’t get back to bed. After all, sleep was a precious commodity, and he couldn’t afford to lose any. But he was too awake. Too afraid, he realized. He wrapped his arms around himself and wished he could force himself to cry. He shivered as the nausea came back, his stomach twisting. It wasn’t like he needed to make a run for it, but, god, it hurt. It was annoying, and he just wanted to cry.
Finally, Arai decided to sit on his bed, to lay down. He wouldn’t sleep anymore tonight, but at least he could pretend he was dreaming as he cried into his pillow.
===
The bell in the church chimes twice. Pauses. Chimes twice more as if to tell the sleepy little town something important was happening and the villagers needed to pay attention. Thing was, no one really was up at two in the morning. No one that is, except Arai. It was always at two in the morning, just after the second ringing of the bell that Arai woke up and couldn’t get back to sleep. He didn’t know what it was, perhaps the sound of the bell invaded his dreams, or maybe it was the way his leg seized from hip to knee, or maybe it was the way his stomach twisted like he needed to throw up. Whatever it was, it kept him from sleeping. Which he needed, desperately. The things he worked for, worked with, weren’t going to let a little thing like sleep deprivation keep him from functioning properly.
Maybe he just needed to get laid.
Of course, that was just about as likely to happen as pink rain and rainbow-colored clouds shimmering with lollipops in their puffy bodies.
Arai had a problem with people. It was probably why he preferred animals instead of humans. Of course, he needed to keep human contact. It wouldn’t be good for these people to suddenly realize that their veterinarian was a lyanthrope, let alone a lycanthrope of considerable power. Yeah, sure, Arai was hundreds of years old, but that didn’t stop a bullet through the head. Unlike others of his kind, bullets had a way of being final.
So Arai would lay in bed the moment he woke up, trying to figure out if he should make a run to the bathroom or not. Last week he’d gotten nauseous so bad he practically camped out beside the toilet. The cool porcelain had felt great on his feverish skin, and he could control his shakes a little bit better there. Unlike now. His stomach was twisting in odd ways - he was sure it had been something he had eaten - but it wasn’t moving. He had little shakes, just in his hands, but he didn’t know if he’d need to make a run for it.
That’s how insignificant they were.
Funny, really funny, really.
Arai sat up, kicking off his covers and trying not to groan as the sheer movement gave him a headrush. He planted his feet firmly on the cool wood of the floor and put his head between his knees, and tried not to imagine the consequences of moving too quickly.
His hands were shaking badly now, every time he stopped moving them, they’d vibrate. He knew what was coming, he just didn’t know when. He’d had plenty of false alarms to be quite experienced in timing, but the thing was, he had to go down a flight of stairs to get to the bathroom, and he wasn’t sure if he’d be that fast. If he threw up on the carpet, though, his landlady would be pretty pissed about it. Oh, there was a bathroom on the second floor, one much more accessible from his room. The thing was it had gone through renovations recently and he had no idea if it was good to use or not.
Arai stood up as slowly as possible and made to pace his room. Maybe it would give his stomach time to settle. Maybe he’d find some Pepto Bismol and all the twisting would stop. Yeah. He thought briefly about having some ice cream, but that would just be poking the proverbial eight-hundred pound gorilla.
Arai scratched the back of his head and wondered if his insomnia was caused by his constant little sickness. It was a possibility, after all. Or maybe he was just insane. It happened to plenty of lycanthropes - you ate too much, you partook of something that was nasty, or you lost your humanity. It was the last one that had been taking place far too much for Arai’s liking, as if something in their brain had just turned off, had just stopped saying ‘I’m human’ and started saying ‘Eat, hunt, kill, mate’. And it wasn’t just the lycanthropes that suffered, no, it was everybody. They tried to be human as much as possible, taking families, having kids. But the moment they lost hold on their humanity, those precious connections they’d tried so hard to build around themselves came crashing down. No longer were they the husband, the wife, the mother, the father - they’d become a monster, something to be feared, hunted, killed.
Arai knew this all too well.
His father had been a lycanthrope - a were bear. Somehow, Arai obtained the curse, whether it was through blood or simply because he was that unlucky. Either way, Arai became a maneless lion on his tenth birthday. On his tenth birthday, his father went insane. It wasn’t the kind of insane that meant the person attacked himself or random strangers or even the life partner. No, Arai’s father tried to kill him.
He’d asked his mother why at the hospital, and she could only stare at him and cry.
His father had been hoping never to have a child with the lycanthrope blood. Arai’s older brothers had escaped the curse, but Arai… Arai hadn’t.
Arai ran his fingers through his thin brown hair and shuddered, pressing both hands to his face. That seemed to calm his stomach somewhat, along with the pacing, so he kept moving, just trying to relax everything in his body. He wished he could will the change to his other form, but he wasn’t that skilled. He was only three hundred - how that constituted as hundreds he’d never know - but it marked him, essentially, as a baby. He was only one of five of the ‘young’ generation, every other lycanthrope being older. As far as he knew anyway.
It wasn’t like Arai wanted to be cured, either. There really wasn’t any way for him to be cured. But the people he worked for wanted him to develop one, if only to cure the insanity in his kind. And they knew about him, of course.
Arai shivered and wondered if he shouldn’t get back to bed. After all, sleep was a precious commodity, and he couldn’t afford to lose any. But he was too awake. Too afraid, he realized. He wrapped his arms around himself and wished he could force himself to cry. He shivered as the nausea came back, his stomach twisting. It wasn’t like he needed to make a run for it, but, god, it hurt. It was annoying, and he just wanted to cry.
Finally, Arai decided to sit on his bed, to lay down. He wouldn’t sleep anymore tonight, but at least he could pretend he was dreaming as he cried into his pillow.
===