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The night covers me, the moon leads me to a town. A small quiet town with families children and tranquility but all that will be over with in 20 minutes. I have not yet how to suppress the hunger for human blood yet and everytime I feel the need I can feel my humanity be driven further out of grasp. The sweet smell of the grass is intoxicated and the smell of fresh blood is driving me to maddness. Creeping closer to the town I come across a man wandering just on the outskirts of the town. He asked me what my business I have with in the town. I tell hem I am traveler looking for bedding, trade, and food. He looks at me with a curious and suspicious eyes, then he makes his mistake. He turns his back to me and lounge at him. I wrap my arm around his neck plunging my fangs deep into the side of his neck. His warm life pours down my throat, The salt and the metallic taste makes my brain fire like a million lighting strikes, his body goes limp then with a sudden snap I break his neck. Now blood drunk I let loose a terrifying scream and run deep into the town. Lights in the homes turn on and the people run out into the street. Curious to see what was the commotion. Their curiosity has led them all to their deaths, feeding on every man woman and child that has left their idea of safety of their homes. Slashing and biting through them all no longer aware of my actions feeding till my fill. Once my limit is reached I sit on a roof top drenched in blood and tears...my tears. I close my eyes and her the sobbing of the ones who are still left alive mourning over their loved ones. The demon in me stirs telling me to make their once complete families whole again. The moon light makes the town look like a dream, dropping down to the ground feeling the cool earth under my hands, the cries in the air like a dreary symphony. Extending my claws I go from home to home exterminating all who had a beating heart. What seemed like a dream of blood cries, pleading, confusion, pain, that would not end all took thirty five minutes. The last person alive was a young boy who stood with his fathers dagger and gun. Picking him up by his neck and looking deep into his eyes I see no fear but hatred. He spoke one word that word was why. Lowering him to the ground I take my claw and scratched his cheek giving him a reminder then disappeared back into the night. Back on the journey to find my Love. Death hangs low and thick in the air, tears run down my cheek...
~Journal of Young Ossian 1635
