(I have this posted elsewhere but I wrote this up through speed writing. Edit - The title is not up to my par but I decided to go with something descriptive; hopefully it'll pave a path. With free time to scribble, the revised story, at you service 
Erm, before I forget : Rated R for 17(the borderline of adult)+ readers now.
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The man hovered over the dead carcass, his face was expressionless. His body tensed and his kneecaps began to shake violently. Had he fallen from lack of balance? No... An animal; as the man referred to himself tonight; a self proclaimed title, was glaring at the fresh meat. A wolf is courageous, cunning, protective and displays supreme agility while on the hunt; all the qualities that supported the man's new found instincts. The title was fit and a small grin spread on his lips.
Without warning, the man arched his head back and released a blood-curdling howl. The night caressed him; the one thing that provided him security and loving support - darkness. When he finished howling, the grin broaden and he sat on his haunches, studying the body.
Fresh pools of blood seeped from underneath the victim's ribcage. The center of the victim's chest was ripped open, and the vertical opening traveled from the sternum to the pelvis of the body. Purplish veins, torn tissue and muscle oozed through like an impenetrable force had pushed or rifled through the organs, searching...
The man peered away from the body momentarily and stroked his fist tenderly. Inside the fist, he held something dear and precious to him. A copper chain slipped from under his curled fingers. Slowly opening his fist, a heart shaped locket glistened through the moon. The man stroked the engraving; center of the locket. Since he was alone in a field and not a soul was around to stop his motives, he read the inscription aloud:
My love, May we share centuries of happiness.
-Your protector and husband - Jeremiah
Short breaths escaped through his nose and the memory erased his smile instantly.
The memory...
He clutched the locket and lowered his head, so it touched his forehead.
Groans and gnashing teeth escaped freely into the night.
Murderer..., the whisper said, echoing inside his head.
How was the feast? Was it worth it? Cannibal...
The man shook his head violently. When the voices continued to haunt him, he crouched on his two hands and knees in the appearance of a canine, shook his belly as a dog would if finishing a bath.
He brought a thumb to his lip and allowed his tongue to rub and lick the dried blood.
The man sighed, and pried the locket open with his fingernails, caked in dried blood. Inside the locket; a picture of a man and women. The man rubbed the women's face and pretended he was home now, stroking her curly brown locks and rubbing his lips in all directions of her body.
He turned his attention from the locket and stared at the body, less than three inches from his shoe. He cringed and sneered.
His victim...
Betrayal...
The body...
A friend doesn't intentionally seek, find, and destroy a mutual agreement passed by the wedding day. No, the body, the man knew was sweet revenge.
"Have an affair with my wife, will you!?" he roared into the night. "Didn't see me, did you? I snuck behind and strangled your ass, with this very chain. How could you? How could you have sex and then knife her?"
An inhumane screech escaped his mouth and the man clutched the locket tighter, so tight that his fist vibrated.
The man brought himself to a standing position and waved the chain over the body, like a pendulum.
"See this?" he growled. "Mine! Mine, you hear! You deserved it, you bloody bastard!"
He kicked the carcass sharply with his shoe and dropped to his knees, feeling defeated.
The man closed his eyes and imagined his wife by his side, sitting in their living room and eating popcorn. Laughing and enjoying their nightly ritual - late night movies. He pictured her rubbing his chest and how she used his stomach as a pillow; little details that made her all his own.
He felt his throat become taut, and scratchy. Breathing was becoming a burden and it hurt every time he tried to pull in a fresh puff of air. He felt his eyelids flutter and ache.
The man cocked his head and roared, "NOO...! You killed her! You killed my wife!"
When he finished, he glanced at the body, and large tears emerged from under his eyelids. The man allowed the emotion to swallow him whole and he cried into the unforgiving night...
Points:
Time spent:
Canary word: Present
Possible AI signals:
Original Text:
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125,018 Literary Works • 672,857 Reviews
I like this advice too. Now, I have something to work with, (as rediculious as the story is) I'll stop with the speed writing and start focusing on the quality of the story itself. In other words, another project to finish, lol.
I'm still undecided about the description of the man. Maybe I'll least give him an age and height. We will see what the heck comes out of my head on round three, whenever that will be.
Thanks Snoink.
Now it's too overdramatic.
Show, don't tell. And telling includes flashbacks and angst!
Remember, when you write, you want to separate yourself from the emotion. White puts it much better: "Write in a way that draws the reader's attention to the sense and substance of the writing, rather than to the mood and temper of the author. If the writing is solid and good, the mood and temper of the writer will eventually be revealed, and not at the expense of the work. Therefore, the first piece of advice is this: to achieve style, begin by affecting none -- that is, place yourself in the background."
This is from Strunk and White's The Elements of Style in the chapter "An Approach to Style." It's a must-have for any writer and, if you don't have it yet, get it. Now.
I believe I fixed your questions, except I didn't describe the man, which I may do a little later...or I may just force the readers to form their own conclusions.
Whoops, forgot about Jiggy.
This may seem weird, but I didn't choose this scene specifically. As a storyteller, you have no real control over the character(s) and this one popped into my head as I was speed writing. Of course, a certain movie and my knowledge of wolves played a small effect, lol. As for the movie itself, and why we didn't see him as a werewolf, it's because I like to think of myself more creative than Hollywood. The blood and gore helped me visualize the body but as writers we need to be original. So, the man didn't become one, even though the elements were there. Instead, something else happened to him. Care to take a stab at what happened to the man?
Well, I better stop before all my inspiration and energy dies and I wind up in a writer's block again, lol. Thanks guys for the help and for pushing me.
LOL! If you want a challenge, Jiggy, I suggest that you join "La Plume Noire" which is a usergroup full of such challenges.
Jess... you're missing stuff. What does the carcass look like? Is it the woman in the locket? The beast that killed her? You describe the carcass well enough, but we really don't have any background of what the carcass was of.
Besides that, there are other questions just begging to be answered. Is the main character a werewolf? Something worse?
Describe more and ye shall be happy!
But, on the whole, nice gruesome death scene.
Lol, its all right I s'pose, so long as it doesn't continue. What challenge? Where? For who??? I want a challenge!!
Anywho:
puddles? Come now, what the??
A death scene could have been anything, why this particular choice?? If American Werewolf in Paris was the influence then why did we not see that the 'man' was a werewolf? Perhaps more of that should have been put into it, thus making the over-all picture a lot clearer.
I wrote it today. The challenge was to write a death scene. So... through rapid typing, I came up with this. I apologize if came out that way, Jiggy. When speed writing, you're supposed to not think but write as the first things that pop into your head.
Erm, whoops, if I did. Sorry.
My thoughts on this story; way too many adjectives, lol. And watching American Werewolf in London didn't help.
Um, this seems okay. No, glaring mistakes, per se. I may return and comb this through.
When did you write it?
lol, its reminiscent of Shadow.