It has been weeks since the attack. The gnarled wound has only gotten worse — where it first wept blood it now leaks black ichor; part of it is always open, always shedding that foul liquid. Some of the wound has healed in warped, scaled scabs… the veins surrounding the slash are dark and bulging. It has an odor akin to rotting meat mixed with something acidic, sour.

But it wasn’t all bad. I no longer need my glasses. Everything that was once blurry I see in unmistakable high-defintiton. Colors are brighter, too; almost more vivid, even on a dreary day. It’s not just my sight, but every other sense has heightened. Yesterday, I was able to correctly guess what Alan had for breakfast based on his breath from across the room at around 4 o’clock. It’s not like he stank of coffee, sausage, and eggs… but I could smell it with such clarity. Some foods I can tell are fresher than others, too. It’s like I’m becoming hypersensitive. The most annoying had to be my hearing. Everything was so… loud, no matter what time of day. I can hear my neighbors bicker with each other before bed through my walls; I can hear someone’s tv playing reruns of old sitcoms above me at a level of detail I just do not care for.

I wasn’t expecting the teeth, though. I had first discovered my newfound fangs about a week in after some near migraine-inducing pain that ended with my canines just falling out into the sink while I brushed my teeth one morning. I panicked, of course… dentistry is expensive, plus I hadn’t done anything to provoke losing two teeth at once! As I squabbled with myself I noticed blood pooling in my mouth… I spit, rinsed, and checked my mouth to find two pricks of teeth rapidly pushing through the gums. In awe I watched them quickly fill in the gaps left by my old teeth within a span of maybe two minutes. I’m used to them now, for the most part… lets just say biting your tongue is now twice as fun with fangs.

Taking care of the wound is tricky. I can’t go to a doctor again after visiting the ER weeks ago and getting laughed at point-bank because I said I was attacked by a monster in the woods. Stupid, I never should have admitted that. They tried to put me in the psych ward and label my wound as self-inflected. Um, no? It hurts, though. Like a burning ache that drills into the bone and sinew. I go through multiple wraps a day as the black blood seeps through the bandages at a rate I can barely keep up with…

Just what attacked me?

I don’t remember much about that night. It was late and I took the woods as a short-cut to my apartment complex after having a few drinks with my coworkers. It wasn’t a big deal, I did it all the time — I knew the woods like the back of my hand. Or at least, I thought I did. I wasn’t exactly drunk out of my mind… but I was a little more that buzzed. All I truly recall is making my way about a third in, hearing a twig snap near me and then a big, shadowy figure appearing behind me when I turned. It was amorphous, like liquid night, with two piercing yellow pin-prick eyes. It stared at me and I stared at it. Then I screamed and everything happened so fast.

I was thrown to the forest floor with such a force all the air within me escaped me. Sharp, wet claws gripped my sides, anchoring me to the ground as I struggled violently albeit uselessly against the monster. I kept screaming until a slimey goo-ridden hand was slapped over my mouth, muffling any noise I made. Then there was a sharp pain in my arm and like the wind it vanished… leaving me bloody and covered in black tar in the dirt.

I’ve rolled around the memory in my mind multiple times, but I can’t really pin-point what the monster was. Werewolf? No, not exactly. Alien? Perhaps, but I can’t be too sure.

All I know is that I’m changing… and with each passing day I learn something new about the predicament of my new life. I will never be the same.

I’ll never be human again.

But is that such a bad thing? If you were to ask me how I’d react to slowly turning into a creature I’d probably say I’d panic… but, I’m not panicking. At most I feel mildly inconvenienced, mostly due to the wound on my arm. Did the monster in the woods even mean to attack me? Maybe I could find it again and ask… who knows?

All I do know is I’m changing and fast… and if there’s any more physical traits associated with this change — like turning into a slimy shadow monster — I’m going to have to find a way out of town.

My life is changing and I need to adapt.

I’m no longer human, but my will to survive is still strong.