Monday, February 23, 2015

Flash Fiction: Wild Child

"I-" Macha tried not to stammer.  For her, it had been months since she had needed to speak out loud.

She tried not to cry.  But the kind woman wasn't listening to the small child.  Very small with dirty, brown hair, Macha had been arguing with the woman for awhile.  Macha couldn't explain all of it.  But the tiny child knew she couldn't be trapped there.  Bad things would happen.

"Child, don't argue with me."  The stern yet kind woman in red knelt down.  "Everything will be alright.  You don't have to go anywhere."

"You don't understand."  Macha stared at the door behind the woman.  "Please... you don't want to be here..."

Macha figured the woman to be some kind of priest.  That's what she'd heard others call people in those kind of robes.  Her robes were scarlet.  Macha liked her kind voice.  It felt warm.  Macha could tell this was a woman who genuinely wanted to help children like her.  But Macha knew what she was.  Each moment she was here, it got closer to be dangerous for this nice woman.

The woman's face looked concerned.  "Child, are you in danger?"

Macha shook her head.  "I'm not.  You are.  Please."

The woman looked confused.  Then she shook her head.  Macha could tell the woman had dismissed the idea altogether.  She must've thought Macha was playing a game or lying or something.  Macha sighed, frustrated.


"I'm just trying to warn you!" Macha could feel tears welling up in her eyes.  Moonlight started to flood through a nearby window.  Macha slumped down in defeat.  It was too late.

"Child, that is enough.  Please.  I'm just trying to help you."  The woman paused to give Macha a chance to respond.  "Please, child, tell me what is your name?"

"It's too late."  Macha couldn't see the woman clearly anymore.  Why didn't she leave her alone?  Macha knew where she could go, where no one could get hurt.  Why didn't she listen to her?  "I'm sorry."

The woman sighed.  She sounded tired.  Macha could feel it coming on.  The kind woman had to be frustrated with her.  Macha wished she could do more.  But she didn't listen.  Too late.  The change came.

Macha screamed in pain as it began.  The full moon made her flesh stretch and bend.  Her bones snapped, her flesh twisting.  The changes began.

Macha's skull elongated, her teeth turning into sharp canines.  Fur flowed onto her skin.  The raggy shift the woman had made Macha wear shredded into raggy bits.  Her fingers twisted into long claws.

Then Macha blacked out as the Wolf took over.


Macha woke up covered in dried blood.  She had wrapped herself around a long chunk of the woman's arm.  Macha threw it away, disgusted.  Sticky.  Macha felt sticky.

The sewers.  Macha looked around.  Home.  She never remembered what happened when the wolf was in control.  Moonlight, then Macha blacked out.

"Wildchild."  Macha told herself.  "I'm too wild.  Why didn't you listen to me?"

Macha sobbed as she sat in a pool of gore, not hungry.  Not hungry at all.  She never went hungry.  Not when the moon was full.