After Virgil's morning episode I wasn't sure we should go out tonight. He finally calmed down in the office and we saw patients as usual, but he didn't have the same compassion for the ailing animal's. He just went through the motions as we made our rounds from room to room. I knew he was just biding his time until the hunt. I knew he was thirsty for blood. The nausea was pushing my morning bagel up my throat. Waves of guilt turning my skin from hot to cold. I was in debt to Vigril for saving me, what now seemed like a lifetime ago. I owed him that much. So I ignored the signs and pushed through the day, mentally preparing myself for the night.
I ate my dinner as twilight fell. A bowl of luke warm soup. My stomach was on edge, I couldn't stand to eat more and I wasn't sure I could hold it down during the evening festivities, so I ate enough to give me the strength for what was bound to be a long night. Friday's were always the worst. Everyone on their best behavior all week, and Friday they let it all go. And the evil one's, they preyed on that. Friday's were full of rapes and murders and robberies. Friday's used to terrify me, always looking over my shoulder. Now we had the upper hand. We were creating our own destiny. That's what I kept telling myself. But really, I was just praying Virgil could still tell the difference between the good and the bad.
As soon as the last bit of light faded from the sky I watched Virgil stand up from his bed and walk to the front door. His body strong, and confidant. His hazel eyes almost darkened as he sat there patiently by the door, staring up at me. I made believe it was just the shadows in the house darkening them, but I knew better. I knew he was hungry. I knew it was time. So I joined him at the door and we walked into the night.
Friday, October 14, 2011
Thursday, October 13, 2011
REGRETS & FAITHFUL RE-TELLINGS.
The darkness wasn't as dark as it once was. in some ways it may have been darker, more haunting, terrifying. I thought we were ridding the city of evil, I thought we were making room for good, for peace, for life to come back in. But this was more powerful than I could of ever imagined. This was all consuming. But I played unfazed, I put my strong face on, poured myself into my work, tried to keep a clear line between the nights and the days. But it wasn't me, I wasn't the one whose lines were blurring, but I took the blame. If I hadn't of led him, encouraged him to embrace that darkest part of himself, maybe things would be different. Maybe we wouldn't be here right now, in the middle of the afternoon, huddled in a corner of my office praying for a miracle. For salvation. For this episode to pass, for his rage to quiet.
His face twisted into that of a monster, his eyes red from the blood pumping so swiftly through his veins. His teeth, jagged fangs, thirsty to destroy. I tell myself he hates this, hates when the power consumes him, hates when the sins of our nights carry over to daylight. It never used to be this way, before we could go on our sprees when the darkness set, when all the good and holy people retired for the evening, when the demons showed their faces to the moon. We could venture out then and let our mission take over and punish the devil for his evil deeds. The line was so clear, and in the light of the morning we would awake, cleansed and refreshed. Knowing our purpose, our mission, it was pure, it was noble. But now, now here, I am not so sure. Now with Virgil twisted with confusion, ready to pounce on the first mistake he sees. He has lost the sense of grace, he has forgotten the reason for the hunt. I try to make his eyes find mine. My body trembling, part of me trusting he can contain himself, that he will not see me as a stumbling block. That he will not attack his master. But the other part of me so unsure, so frightened by what I have allowed him to become. If only he can find my eyes, I know I can calm him, I have to believe that, because if I can't, because if I have lost that power over him, we are doomed. And me, I would be responsible for creating a killer.
His face twisted into that of a monster, his eyes red from the blood pumping so swiftly through his veins. His teeth, jagged fangs, thirsty to destroy. I tell myself he hates this, hates when the power consumes him, hates when the sins of our nights carry over to daylight. It never used to be this way, before we could go on our sprees when the darkness set, when all the good and holy people retired for the evening, when the demons showed their faces to the moon. We could venture out then and let our mission take over and punish the devil for his evil deeds. The line was so clear, and in the light of the morning we would awake, cleansed and refreshed. Knowing our purpose, our mission, it was pure, it was noble. But now, now here, I am not so sure. Now with Virgil twisted with confusion, ready to pounce on the first mistake he sees. He has lost the sense of grace, he has forgotten the reason for the hunt. I try to make his eyes find mine. My body trembling, part of me trusting he can contain himself, that he will not see me as a stumbling block. That he will not attack his master. But the other part of me so unsure, so frightened by what I have allowed him to become. If only he can find my eyes, I know I can calm him, I have to believe that, because if I can't, because if I have lost that power over him, we are doomed. And me, I would be responsible for creating a killer.
Monday, July 18, 2011
Beo-Dog, the wages of a war on humans
This is the story of Beo-Dog, he will mend your animals as he eats your soul.
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