Bark (The Werewolf Journal's Book 1) (17 page)

CHAPTER 63

Father Bastin sat on his old faded couch, crying.  He ran a rosary through his hands, holding it against his white shirt, which was stained with blood.  “If I had known, I would have never let that boy in,” the father said with disbelief.

“Was this the boy that did this?” Rodriguez said, showing a picture of Jay Summers.

“Yes,” the father said, trying to regain himself.  “Why would he do something like this? It was just a little baby.”

“If it means anything, we have caught him, and well, he’s dead,” Rodriguez said, placing his hand on the father’s shoulder.

“That won’t bring the baby back.”  The father got up from the couch and walked over to his kitchen to get coffee.

“The irony of it all is just yesterday the baby that was here was adopted.  Samantha arrived only two days ago, and now she’s gone,” the father said.  “Even at the midst of

all this, I just cant help but think that there’s something special about that baby.”

“You mentioned another baby?” Inspector Rodriguez asked, wondering.

“Yes, Dominic.  I think that’s who Mr. Summers came to kill.  I just can’t see how.  The way he held that baby.”

“Was that the baby that was found outside the cemetery?” Inspector Rodriguez asked.

“Correct.  You would have thought he was the father.”  The priest poured coffee into a white mug.

“Who knows?  Maybe he was.  I’ll have the department run a DNA test on the deceased,” the inspector said.

“So much carnage has transpired over the last year, Inspector.  I pray it will end,” the father said.

“I think it already has, Father.”

“That baby that died tonight will haunt my dreams for as long as I live,” the father said again, sitting down on his couch.

“That’s why we’re able to wake up so that we can remember that they’re only dreams, Father,” Rodriguez pointed out.

“I wish I could wake up from this one, Inspector,” the father said, sipping his coffee.

“I’ve seen a lot of things this last year, Father.  Things that nobody should see.  I don’t sleep much, and when I do, it’s only for a few hours at a time.  I wake up every night praying that I can forget about those faces of the people that I’ve seen murdered, but I never do.  They’re still there every day of my life.” Rodriguez started to walk out of the house.

“What do you do to cope? the father asked.

“I already told you.  I pray, and when that doesn’t work, I pray some more.  You, out of all people, should know that,” Rodriguez said, walking out of the father’s house and stepping into his car.  He reached for his matches in his coat pocket.  He put his cigar in his mouth, watching the lights of the ambulance flash.  “Any word on Officer Roberta yet?” Rodriguez asked, radioing in to headquarters.

“No,” the voice replied.

He turned on his stereo, raising the volume as the song “Hungry Like A Wolf ” by Duran, Duran played.  The inspector drove off, thanking God that the town’s nightmare has finally been caught.  He lit his cigar, looking at the bloody bandage on his hand.  He then looked up at the full moon and laughed, whispering to himself, “Werewolves”.

CHAPTER 64

Arnie’s Poems

Heaven Nowhere to Be Found

There’s a lake of fire beneath my feet and sheets of blood cover my bed.  Skulls of demons cover my walls and I begin my never ending fall.  Red, dirty wings pierce through my back and sharp, tiny horns crash through my skull.  There’s an abyss of blackness at the end of the hall and horrific laughs fill the air.  Screams of agony and despair and a tearing at my skin as the flames of the river swallow my sin.  I’m alive not dead in a den of pain and everyone around going insane.  Hounds with faces that look like mine run around always barking ugly sounds.  Everything spinning round and round.  Heaven out of reach nowhere to be found.

Knocking

There’s a knocking on my door.  I hear it more and more as the rain begins to pour and no one but me lives here anymore.  I feel like going mad but something stops me.   Maybe it’s the knocking at the door.  I really can’t tell anymore.  I feel like crying far from dying, but there’s still that awful knocking at the door.  I hear a scream maybe a dream.  Nothing really is what it seems.  I close my eyes and hold my pillow tight. Something here is far from right.  I see a light underneath the door and someone stepping on the floor and inside me, saying, “Please no more.”  I hear a voice.  Is it my dear, or is it something evil near?  What is it?  The worst I fear.  There it is again.  The knocking at the door.  It’s quarter to four.  I can’t take no more but the knocking grows and the wind blows and something outside hides.  I feel scared.  I cannot bear whatever it is that says beware.  I want to wake, don’t want to shake.  I want out but I have to wait.  It’s so late, ain’t this great?  The knocking’s there.  I dare not go anywhere.  It’s not fair.  No one cares, but I’m still here in the dark, naked and bare.  I know it’s there.  I’m so scared I feel like pulling on my hair.  I sit on a chair.  I want to go somewhere but that knocking’s there like some haunting nightmare.  I close my eyes and go to sleep and say my prayers, my soul to keep.  If I wake and the knocking’s there then I’ll count some sheep and fall back to sleep.  Then I’ll do the same again and if there’s still a knocking there then I guess I’ll never go nowhere.

Change

The moon shines bright.  I try to fight but cannot resist the calling of its light.  I feel myself slipping as sweat from my body starts dripping.  The evil inside grows as blackness fills my mind.  The time has come again for the world to meet my friend.  He sends his son, the beast, which is born every night when the time is right.  A change takes place as I lose my face.  I try to say grace but my memory is erased.  I see red as people I know surround me all dead.  There’s a howling that I hear again and again as rage and hate consume what I am and the beast inside runs wild through the land.

Damned

I am beast.  I am man.  I wear the mark upon my hand.  I am damned, yes, I am.  I am scorned.  With each new moon I am born.  I am torn.  My skin is used and worn.

I feel alive looking through the beast’s eyes.  I cannot fight.  I need a bite even though it’s far from right.  I’m slipping and my soul is dipping for to hell will soon be shipping.

Fate

Evil deeds through flesh I feed.  Blood-filled skies as Mommy cries.  The prince of lies spreads its wings and flies.  Red, watery rivers and sights that make me shiver.  Alone I roam in this place I call my home.  I feel myself wanting to hide and the little boy inside asks why.  Heaven no longer wants me because of my continuing urge to feed.  I cannot help it, can’t they see?  I long to rid myself of this curse and be free.  My fate was written the day I was bitten.

Dead Lights

Dead lights in front of me.  I can’t see.  I’m blinded.  Faces that look disfigured pass me, screaming hysterically.  I’m cold and scared, don’t know which way to go, but what can I do?  I’m at my crossroads.  I want to fly and escape, build a brand-new life.  I need a way to release all this hate.  I can’t wait, it’s so damn late.  Need to breed, need to live on so this song I sing can go on.  Dying inside.  The child within tries to hide. Surrounded by lies, heartbroken cries, and someone I love always dies.  Dead lights in front.  I’m blinded and can’t see.  All I want is to live and be free.

Flake Out

All alone on my own.  Sick of it, need to get out, need to escape, need to fly away to someplace safe.  Chained to the walls, I have the key to unlock them but won’t let myself.  I need to go on, forget the past.  There’s nothing there but things that never last.  I can’t see the future, don’t know if I want to, but need to get there some way or another.  I need a lot, can’t seem to get it.  Want to be loved, need to be wanted.  I just want to stop being haunted.  It’s a freefall.  I’m going to hit bottom.  I’m screaming and yelling but no one hears and there’s no one to catch me.  Need to wake up, open my

eyes before it’s too late and I flake out and die.

Shame

Pillars of skulls surround my body as a fire burns just beneath me.  I feel myself losing control.  I feel my skin growing old.  There’s a devil that laughs in a thrown of flesh and thousands of masked naked women whispering my name.  Blood seeps through my pores like sweat and I’m unable to move.  The sky is red and I feel myself farther away from my bed.  People shedding tears over me.  I don’t see it.  Fires for my demise, all lit and hell dogs guard my body.  My soul is gone but my flesh remains and I live in hell always remembering my shame.

Gods of War

Gods of war fight in the night and the phoenix of life takes flight.  Winged lions roar at the chores of heaven as the gates open for the locks are broken.  No words are spoken as angels raise their fire-blazed swords.  Demons swarm the land in hordes.  Bright lights fill the sky as blood rains down on people’s eyes.  Fire burns the lands of earth as a crying mother gives birth.  The prince of heaven has returned and has come to teach us what he’s learned.  Every demon is burned away as the sun brings back a brand new day.