My father tried to find a cure to my fever, as I'd developed a rather high one. He went out of town with my cousin to another town, as there was more medicine there than my hometown. He wiped his eyes and then continued to write. While my father and cousin were away, something horrible happened. My temperature had risen, and I didn't know what was happening, but soon everything was black. I soon came to in a burning village...my burning village...and there was blood all over my hands and clothing, my hair was covered in splotches of blood and his face was all red from the blood all over it. He sighed and wiped a tear away as he dipped it into the ink bottle.
I walked through this burning town, unsure of where I was...until I found my father's dead body, right beside a mirror. The scream I let out at the sight of myself must've been heard from miles away. I sat, quivering, inside this ghost town as the wind picked up and put out the fires. I heard people coming, survivors of my attack, I guessed, and quickly ran. If they saw me here, with blood all over me...they'd know it was me that did it. He dipped it into the ink bottle again and wrote on.
I ran away, never to return to that ghost town again, for fear of death by those I once considered friends, if I had any. By chance, I went back there five years later, and discovered my cousin, my lone family member left. She'd come back after the fires had been blown away and heard from the survivors of what I did. The joy I felt at seeing her quickly washed away like waves on the sand. She was out for my blood, and I was her prey. Now that I had been cursed with ears and a tail, she could tell who I was right away, and chased me down. Why? I didn't mean to kill my father...why did this all have to happen?
He sighed and sat back, looking at the paper. "'Why did this all have to happen?' I'm still not sure, and I doubt I ever will be..." He said, his eyes half-closed as he spoke. Then he looked out at the sky. It was still early afternoon. And there was a lot to go.
For years, I hid from my cousin, with no place to go, no money to gain my food and no way to gain clothing as I grew. So, I took a job as a mercenary, and did many various jobs. I met several people that I could actually call friends and gained enough money to gain a living. But, I still didn't dare gain an actual house, for fear of my cousin tracking me down to kill me. I still fear her, even after all these years. And she's most likely still out for my blood. He looked up and sighed, his eyes closed.
And that is why I ask this of anyone who reads this. Lend me help! Tell me if you find any way that I could be cured of this madness! I can't stand living like this any longer! I want a normal life, where I don't have to worry about going berserk on the full moons and killing all of those I have come to call "friends." The pain I feel when I think of them possibly all dead because of me....I could not describe it in a thousand years, and I couldn't even find one word to truly describe it. I just know that, if they were gone....I would be all alone again...I could never again be happy. I don't want to experience that, so I ask of any readers. Help me, lend me your hand, let me go back to the person I used to be! That's all I ask of anyone...
The End.
He sighed and closed the book and ink bottle, then put them both in his bag, along with his quill. Then he sighed and put the bag in the corner of the cave. He needed some fresh air. He stood up and dusted himself off, then walked out into the sunshine, his hat shielding his eyes from the bright rays of the sun as he walked.
