Change

Skye Maelstrom Faust

The light of the moon shone through the iron bars of the windows, casting an eerie shadow over the grey stone floor. The wind rustled through the cracks in the wall, as the soft rain dripped through the hole in the stone ceiling, forming a small puddle in the corner of the room.

The cell was quiet, interrupted only by the occasional squeak from a rat who had mistaken the filthy hay for something edible. But, as the dark clouds covered the rising moon, a long sigh could be heard from the corner of the cell. The rats, startled, scurried to their holes in the wall.

A huddled form in the corner of the oval room moved slowly, struggling. Its hands were in the air, shackled at the wrists, and chained to the wall. His legs seemed free enough, though. But, at a second glance, it was obvious that he had only one. A stump was all that remained of the other. Covered in hard and infected blood, the stump had gathered hayseeds, sticking painfully.

The shape looked upwards, to the window opposite him, and the scraggly beard on his face spoke of ages spent here. He smiled, showing his yellow, rotted teeth, as the moon come into view again.

Somewhere, a wolf howled atop a hill, mournfully baying at the full moon. The howl was joined by others, who one by one joined the first, at the top of the hill.

The man listened to the howling, music to his ears. But, as he listened to the hell-raising sound, his teeth seemed to whiten and sharpen. His beard seemed to disappear into itself. The bloody stump of his left leg shed the bloody scab, revealing healthy skin, that seemingly started to grow, forming a new leg. An evil smile spread across the man's face.

But, as abruptly as the howl began, it stopped.

The man's smile faded, as silence enveloped the cell once again. Frowning, he slumped down again, as the moon was covered again. Thunder clapped through the sky, signalling the beginning of the storm. But this was not the end...

This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. This story is a copyright of Skye Maelstrom Faust (Michael Woods), 1998. All rights reserved.