THE NIGHT OF THE BEAST

The walls of the buildings on either side of the alley were blocking the moonlight from entering and banishing the darkness they seemed to protect; it wasn’t so dark that he couldn’t see anything however. He could make out vague shapes of piles of refuse littering the ground, broken glass reflecting the small amount of light the stars could offer, and about halfway down the alley there was a large form lying in a heap on the ground that was not a pile but a single mass of something. He cautiously made his way down the alley, the lack of light making it seem impossibly longer than it actually was. He had a sick sinking feeling that this was a trap, but after all how effective was a trap when your quarry is prepared for it. His grip on his hand crossbow tightened as he drew nearer the heap on the ground before him. Whatever it was he could now see it wasn’t moving. He slid his finger to the trigger once he was close enough to see that it was a man, a dead man. Then it was on him. Out of nowhere, without a sound it was behind him. He could feel its hot breath that came out as shallow rasping sounds and smell the rotting meat that was stuck between its teeth; however the fiend gave off no body heat even though it was practically on top of him.