Sep. 16, 2017
Nick didn’t own a mirror but when he caught his reflection in the window he could see that the scratches were red, puffy, and oozing a yellow puss. His eyes were bloodshot and the skin around the cuts had started to turn a light shade of gray. The first day Nick had gone through everything in his medicine closet, trying to clean it up but nothing worked. According to his book no one had ever lived through an attack and barely anyone had lived after seeing one. After a particularly painful spell where Nick, without thinking, rubbed his neck causing such a spasm of pain that he dropped the book and fell to his knees he found himself screaming, “What is happening to me?!” As the pain faded and he regained his composure he saw two yellow eyes peering into the window, but as soon as he noticed them they disappeared into the darkness.
As day after day wore on Nick’s palms began to grown small, soft tufts of hair, and his knuckles became thick and knobby. On the fifth day his neck started to become very stiff and his cuts began to throb constantly. He caught a glimpse of himself in the window and saw that his brow was enlarged and a thick beard had sprouted in patches across his face. His heart thudded loudly in his chest and an uncontrollable rage started to take over. He needed to know what was happening to him, he needed the beast in his house, dead or alive, ready for experimentation. In a fit of fury, Nick grabbed his hunting knife and bounded out the door into the snow without grabbing his jacket or even his shoes.
Nick leapt through the snow with an inexplicable energy, the cold snow caressed his bare feet but didn’t bite like it should. He ignored this, focusing solely on finding this creature that had apparently been watching him. He rushed through the woods, branches and leaves whipping at his face as he charged through, breaking out of the underbrush and into a wide clearing. He could recognize the faint blue glow on the snow and the trees, the serene and peaceful scene that he remembered so well, the first night he saw the Anunnaki. As Nick slowed his pace in the middle of the field he heard a rough snort behind him. He spun to find himself face to face with the beast, standing barely five yards apart. They locked eyes and Nick readied his hunting knife in his gnarled hand.