I’m working on a book right now. I’ll be posting it as I write it, which is to say very, very work in progress. As it gets edited, I’ll try to make revisions, but for now, it’s a free, though slow in coming, book! I have no idea how long each piece will be, especially given school, but I’ll try to keep pushing myself forward. Comments, questions, and criticism are welcomed.
Prologue
James had always been a real cunt.
At least that’s what Mike felt about him as he lay in bed after a long day of battling him at work. He was an intolerable man, the kind of boss who had a tendency to disappear entirely, only showing up to tell you that you aren’t working hard enough. It came as no surprise to Mike or anyone that knew him that he dreamed weekly about his boss dying deaths by myriad causes.
He’d killed James himself several times, but he always enjoyed the less mundane causes. A favorite dream of his had James dying by way of Xenomorph, and another Predator, both satisfying for a sci-fi enthusiast like himself. This time, though, he dreamed it was a werewolf.
It was a particularly vivid dream, the kind that comes when someone is hovering between REM sleep and consciousness, waking up but not quite able to make the transition out of sleep, nor able to realize it’s just a dream. Rather than being “almost James” as tended to be the case in Mike’s dreams, or another person representing him, it was as if he was awake and staring him in the face. The sandy blond hair with those awful swept bangs that only managed to call attention to the increasing grey hair. They contrasted his brown eyes, but only served to draw attention to the wrinkles around his eyes. He was at least 35, Mike knew, maybe in his forties, out of shape, and out of touch. An aging man desperately trying to retain his youth by acting like a 14 year old, the kind of person Mike would loathe even if he wasn’t working for him.
In his dream, Mike stood in the dark bedroom, edges of the blinds with a corona of light formed by the breaking dawn. He watched the werewolf, muscular, tall, and terrifying slashing at his sleeping boss, though the first swipe across the cheek woke him up. The scream he let out was the sound of someone who’s encountered his mortality in no uncertain terms, an unceremonious end coming his way in moments in a way he thought was surely impossible. The blood splattered across the room, and Mike could feel it as it hit him, standing beside the bed now, somehow unseen by the monstrosity. James seemed to see him, though, desperately trying to ask for help as his white bedsheets were stained crimson.
Mike suddenly found himself sitting upright in bed, sweating. As enjoyable as the dreams were normally, something about the realism of the dream was too much for him. He could certainly be a dick himself, laughing at things others might consider horrible when nobody was watching, but this was just too much. It was too gruesome to watch someone suffer like that. He needed a drink, after a quick stop in the bathroom; the adrenaline was coursing through his system and demanded to be let out after the dream.
As he washed his hands, he took a gaze in the mirror. He was still sweating a bit, despite the cold of the apartment. His hair, red, short, and messy by intent, made it obvious he’d spent a significant time tossing and turning in bed. The bags under his blue eyes were heavy, and with age his freckles, hallmarks of his gingerdom, had become less prominent thanks to his time away from the sun.
He couldn’t tell so well in the darkness of his bathroom, only a small amount of dawn light coming through the window, but he could only assume his already pale complexion had grown moreso thanks to the recent days being spent almost entirely in a cubicle. No time for his afternoon run, no time for a weekend hiking trip, no time to see the sun besides through a tinted window in the distance at work. Maybe he’d at least be lucky enough for the employees’ gym to have reopened over the weekend.
Mike decided he might as well get to work early. He’d get to avoid his boss that way, at least on the way in, and that was always a welcome change, especially when he was trying to shake the sound of the werewolf’s labored snarl from his mind.