Day 2: werewolf
*Wheeze*
it is day two of this horror week though so here you go.
1200+ words, character death and all that jazz.
Seem found themselves once again in front of their apprentices’ doors, knocking on each one along with another monk, the teacher of this group.
Each aspiring monk opened their door, decorated with the paints of a precursor monk and plain robes. All except one, who held their door shut.
“I'm sorry, venerable maven Seem,” they said, “I'm not feeling myself today, I think I have taken ill.”
The monk burst open the door, Seem beside them, to see the acolyte, paint applied sloppily and room in a state of disarray.
“I understand you've had a hard time adjusting to our customs, do you not think you're just unmotivated to become a monk, you haven't even shaved your head. I think you are ill suited for this life,” the monk spoke, examining the room.
“Oh no, teacher! I swear I have the will, please don't throw me out!” the apprentice spoke, bowing their head and on their knees, breaking into a coughing fit.
“Rise,” Seem spoke, moving past the other monk, “lost one, there are many trials ahead, and you are not obligated to join us because we helped you. Take your time to recover, but consider if this is the path you wish for. We will not abandon you.”
“Thank you, maven,” they said, their head bowed as they stood. Seem and the other monk left, Gael was their name, and they didn't speak as they continued supervising the training of the prospective monks.
“That one won't make it,” they said finally, “mark my words.”
The next day was the same, but now it was time for fasting, and the acolyte in question said they would partake, though Gael expressed doubts that it was in the spirit of the matter, since if they were sick they would be unlikely to eat anyway.
The next morning food was missing, and though the acolytes were questioned nothing came up.
“I'm sorry, maven, but I'm not feeling well.”
“It's unlikely you would have broken the fast,” Gael spoke, “you wouldn't have an appetite.”
“I'm so hungry, so hungry it hurts.”
The next day was the same, but the fruits from the gardens more crushed than eaten, and again no-one had any indications in their rooms.
“Perhaps something is getting in, an animal perhaps,” Seem spoke, and Gael spoke only one word in return,
“Metalheads.”
The next morning Gael was dead, carcass opened to the elements, ribcage torn open and insides ripped apart, mauled beyond recognition.
Something was lurking in the halls at night and there were to be no chances taken, the front entrance was sealed and the temple checked, but there was nothing.
The next month’s night was broken by screams, an acolyte dead, and though the monks searched again there was nothing.
In the morning the monks in training were asked what they heard or saw, but they only reported the screams. Some wanted to leave, and rumours flew of a metalhead stalking the halls.
The month three were missing, the front door still barred.
“I didn't hear anything, and I'm still not feeling well, maven, I'm sorry.” as the one next door to the three, who had all grouped together, if they didn't hear anything it was fine.
But others had, and hadn't it been awhile since they had seen that one, in the one place they hadn't looked.
Armed with that knowledge and something more deadly Seem went to the door.
“Please let me in, lost one. I have something to discuss,” The dagger weighed heavy in Seem’s hand, sharp glint of precursor metal inescapable.
“I don't want you to get sick, maven, and I'm so tired,” they spoke, voice seeming fake, too sweet and sickening to belong to a person.
“Let me in,” Seem spoke, pushing on the door.
“Maven, really it's fine, please don't come in, I beg of you,” they held firm against the door, voice rasping slightly.
Seem crashed against the door, knocking the person to the floor and brandishing their light, but the shape was familiar, still that of a person, a sickly one, bag of long hair on the floor, though they still had plenty of it.
the acolyte struggled to smear paint onto their face before they looked up.
“I did hear something yesterday, but I thought it was part of my dream! I didn't mean to lie maven, I'm sorry!” and they started to cry, Seem patting them on the back.
“You are not in trouble, I merely worried for you,” Seem said, putting away their dagger. “I see you've started cutting your hair.” Seem said, raising a brow at how much was in the bag.
“It's thicker than it looks, just seems to grow back faster than I expect, that ever happen to you?”
“Never,”
“Please excuse me, maven.”
And Seem returned to their room, no closer to a solution.
The next morning there was no answer, and in the room was a body still with it's long hair. Sometime after Seem had left the sickly acolyte had been mutilated, skull broken open, scissors in their clenched fist having some darkened monstrous blood on them.
It wasn't safe, but the sandstorms had been raging for months outside. It was safer with the monster.
The next month held more deaths, even with everyone armed and in groups. In the midst of the chaos Seem froze as an acolyte passed by, carrying the long hair in a bag.
They all looked the same, that was the point of the paint, and now the monster was hiding among them, first as a wounded person, then as a sickly monk in training, and now…
With this revelation the temple turned on each other, some sealed themselves in rooms with friends while others remained in a large group, praying to the precursors.
This only seemed to encourage it, deaths coming faster, and in one unfortunate case, a murder by one of Seem’s fellow monks.
On the night of the full moon there was a knock on Seem’s door, and they grabbed their dagger.
“Maven, I heard something! It's in the kitchen! I saw it, a metalhead!” they whispered frantically, “I'm going to go let the others know,” and feet hurried down the hallway.
It wasn't yet curfew, and Seem opened the door.
Fangs greeted her.
“Oh, maven, bad news! I couldn't find the others, I think they're dead,” and to punctuate this terrible statement the monster dropped a ruined carcass on the floor, the bones visible. “And I'm so hungry…” it grinned, stepping into the room.
Seem lashed out with the dagger and the monster attacked, ripping through flesh with its fangs.
The floor quickly had blood spilt across it, and Seem struck with the dagger, monster’s teeth caught in the ceremonial armor jammed through bone by its bite. It pulled free and tore at flesh, searing pain the was numbed by Seem stabbing the beast, screaming at it, eventually the dagger ripping its stomach, beast slowing down as the monks burst in and stabbed its back too. The creature died and everything went black.
Seem awoke in the care of the monks, and the temple was repaired, sandstorms outside faded.
The next month Seem woke up to the news someone was missing and a full head of hair.
