Under the bloodletting moon

Screams sounded throughout the woods as the first rays of morning sunlight fell upon the foul creature. Its hideous body began sizzling. Dark blisters appeared on the decayed skin. There was no way it could move because Wilford nailed it to a tree using a sturdy iron pick. A last desperate effort. Young Stuart watched with wide eyes as it disintegrated, filling their nostrils with a horrible smell. They additionally bound it with metal chains just to be sure it will not break free. The damned thing possessed unnatural strength and resilience. It all seemed so unreal.

Black smoke rose as the creature’s rotten flesh melted. A few minutes have passed. The ghoul’s screeching voice faded into a low-pitch moan. Stuart’s heart almost sank as he was listening to the creature’s distorted screams of agony, but he remembered what it had done to Wilford’s family.

It was still clawing at the cold metal which had pierced its heart, but it was too weak now. They had chased it all night. Beginning at Greenfield Cemetery, the men had to pursue the monster through fields and forests until finally catching it. They hunted it with undying determination, shot it many times with their revolvers, cut it with their swords. A stab through the heart finally proved to be enough. A mighty swing using the heavy pick was the only thing which could reach the creature’s rotten heart through the thick bone surrounding it, they used all their cunning and strategic abilities for their trap to work.

Liquefied flesh and innards flowed into the snow. Stuart retched, he had to struggle in order to hold back the bile which was fighting to come out. The freezing morning air helped him keep the remnants of his latest meal inside. He just coughed and pulled the thick coat together on his chest.

This winter was one of the coldest winters in England, as far as people remembered. Wilford knew this was the reason the ghoul had killed his wife and two children. The cold weather froze the ground solid, it couldn’t get to the dead in the cemetery. It had kidnapped his family instead, then killed them. Having no taste for a fresh kill, the creature let them rot for a while in its underground layer before its stomach could accept the meal.

‘Rot in hell, godless beast!’ shouted Wilford as tears ran down his cheeks onto his handlebar mustache.

‘I can’t believe this...’ said Stuart, his blue eyes still fixed on the ghoul’s remains.

‘Well, you have to... I have to.’

‘Do you think there are more of these creatures?’ asked Stuart and looked sideways towards Wilford.

Wilford was a vigorous man, but after losing his family, his vigor faded. Stuart saw his haggard face and felt the urge to hug his friend in order to console him. It was the first and last time he saw his best friend with tears in his eyes. All men must suffer, thought Stuart, but not like this. Nobody deserves to a fate like this, robbed from those whom they loved the most. The sight of Wilford’s bowed head and curved back made Stuart’s heart ache like never. He looked much older than he was. As if a thousand years of suffering had fallen on his shoulders at once. His brown, once sharp eyes were now hiding deep within their sockets. Once a fearless, resolute man, now he was just a sad shadow of his formal self.

‘Think?’ asked Wilford, lost half-way in a whirlwind of thoughts and feelings. ‘I don’t just think, I know. If there is one, there must be more. I’m sure of that.’

‘Oh, God,’ said Stuart, his gaze shifted to the tree again.

‘I don’t know what God has to do with all this madness, my friend. Why did He let this happen?’

‘I’m afraid I can’t answer this question,’ Stuart replied, and put a hand on his friend’s shoulder.

‘You don’t have to, you are but a man. A good man, and a good friend. You are like a brother to me. I’ve called upon you in my hour of need, and you’ve come. I will never forget your noble gesture. If you will ever need my help, just ask, and I shall come.’

‘I would have gone to the gates of hell to help you.’

‘I know, thank you. If it weren’t for you, I’ll be dead now too. I just need to figure out what I should do with my life from now on.’

Stuart did not speak. For a moment, he watched as his breath drifted upward like white smoke. There was no way he could tell his grieving friend how should he live his life now. He couldn’t even stay with Wilford to help him through the troublesome times. He had to go back to London.

‘I know what I’m going to do,’ said Wilford. Stuart heard him. He sensed a terrible, possibly dangerous determination in the man’s voice.

‘I’m going to hunt these cursed things down,’ said Wilford. He nodded as if speaking to himself and acknowledging his own decision.

‘I beg your pardon,’ said Stuart. He shot a concerned look at his friend.

‘If there are more foul creatures like this one hiding in the darkness, I shall find them. I shall find as many as possible. I shall kill all of them. I swear it on my life.’

‘Please, Wilford, you are talking madness, this is insane…’

‘No! I’m talking revenge! I’m talking about cleansing. The extermination of these abominations which cause pain and suffering to all of us. Today it is me, tomorrow it might be you. My family didn’t die in vain. I shall not live in vain.’

‘But it’s still madness, you are running into your death.’

‘I’ll tell you what’s madness. Madness is that which is lurking all around us in the darkness. Fiery eyes of hate and malice searching for their next victim. Madness is the desperate search for your loved ones, not knowing if you will ever find them alive. Finding their remains, desecrated by some unholy beast. Madness is living with the thought you could have done something, but you didn’t.’

‘Is this truly what you wish?’

‘No, it’s not what I wish, it’s what I have to do!’

Fire burned in Wilford’s eyes. Stuart watched his friend with a dropped jaw. He was not mistaken when he began looking up to Wilford. Stuart nodded after a few seconds have passed. He was in no position to judge his friend. If he were in this situation, he might hang himself now, maybe shoot himself in the head. Stuart shuddered at these thoughts. But Wilford wanted war, and war is what he would get, a war against the night...