Young Writers Society

Fifteen-year-old Waylon didn’t want his life to change. Who needed change? His life was perfect: he had normal grades, he was a great left back on the soccer team, and his family life was mostly normal. Change was the last thing on his mind.

But one day, things changed, and not in the way he expected.

One night, after Waylon's family finished dinner, he remembered somthing. “Mom, I think I left my cello in the car, I'm gonna go get it.” he called, grabbing his dad’s car keys.

“Okay honey, be careful, don’t get kidnapped or anything,” she called back from the living room. Waylon’s mom was extra paranoid about these things, probably because of all those crime shows she watched.

“The car is literally just outside. I’ll be fine.” Waylon called, rolling his eyes. As he walked closer to the door, the quieter his mom's voice became. 

“I know, but anything could happen! Who knows, maybe there’s a murderer in the shed, waiting for you to come out.” she said. Waylon didn’t think anything of this, it was just his mom being weird again. He didn’t think that she might be right.

He walked outside, kicking some pebbles on the way there. It was dark, and the moon casted silvery light and made thin, creepy shadows with the branches of the trees. The leaves rustled softly with the wind.

Waylon unlocked the car door with a beep and heaved his heavy cello in a black case out of the car. He slung the straps on his shoulders, and carried it out on his back. He was about to walk back to his house when he heard something behind him. It was a rusting of leaves again, but there wasn’t any wind, so it must have been an animal. Probably a squirrel or something.

He waved it off, because it was probably nothing, but he heard it again, this time louder. Waylon paused. He leaned the cello against the stairs, and walked closer towards the sound. Maybe it was a deer. He didn’t know what, but something made him interested, and he couldn’t explain what.

Suddenly, he heard something very strange. He stopped walking. It sounded almost like…breathing. Hoarse, rough breathing. Even though it was very soft, Waylon became worried. His heart started pounding and his hands were sweating. He turned around, scared of whatever was in the shadows. He wasn’t scared of a lot of things, but now he was doubting that. He ran, hoping he could get inside before discovering what this thing was.

But it was too late.

He felt a sudden harsh pain in his arm that felt like it was burning his flesh inside out. He was too scared to look, so he kept running, and he grabbed his cello, ran inside, and locked the door. He felt woozy, and the ground seemed like it was spinning. He put down his instrument and ran to the bathroom in a hurry. His mom said something but he couldn’t hear. He felt like he might pass out. He looked at his arm. It was bleeding, and the crimson blood was dripping down his arm. He was in a lot of shock. He saw a bite mark, but it was unlike anything he ever saw. The wound was not too bad, but he still felt a searing pain.

What was this thing that bit him? Why was it near their house? Waylon’s mind filled with panic as he realized that he had to hide this from his parents, but the longer Waylon looked at the wound, the smaller it became. He realized that it was closing, in real time.

Before he knew it, the wound healed, and it had a light scar there that was barely visible. Waylon was very confused and amazed and scared all at the same time. He didn’t understand any of this, or what the creature that bit him was. All he knew was that he was very tired. He quickly washed the blood off his arm and went upstairs, and fell fast asleep.

The things that happened in the following weeks were very strange. One thing Waylon noticed was that his hair was growing faster than usual. He usually didn’t have to cut his hair very often, but his hair became long in a short amount of time, which wasn’t normal with his hair. And his hair also became messy easily.

Another thing that happened was that he lost taste for vegetables. He always liked eating spinach and lettuce, but it became tasteless. He asked other people if they were experiencing this too, but it seemed that he was the only one.

The last thing was the most shocking for Waylon. Something inside of him made him stare at peoples’ bare skin. At first he thought it was romance, and maybe he was in love with everyone he saw, but he realized that it was something different. It wasn’t attraction, it was…hunger. He started to somehow crave not cooked meat, but raw flesh. He was always hungry, no matter what he ate. There was once where his friend was talking to him, but he was only half listening, because he kept looking at his friend’s neck. Strange and slightly terrifying thoughts were going into his head, telling him things like, “look at that fresh, tasty flesh,” or “I can feel the juicy red blood pumping in the veins under his skin.” At first, Waylon was very scared of these intrusive thoughts, and he tried to get rid of them, because they distracted him and made him lose his focus. But the thoughts took over, and always came on top, no matter how hard he tried.

There was one incident with his best friend Xavier that was the turning point for all these symptoms. At this, he knew there was no going back to his former life.

“Xav,” Waylon said to him as they walked to class. “do you ever wonder…”

“Wonder what?” his friend asked.

“This may sound weird, but…do you ever think about human flesh? I mean like-”

“Like skin you mean?” Xavier asked. “What do you wonder about? I mean, yeah, skin can be weird sometimes, but-”

“No…I mean, what would it taste like? Would it be like chicken, or-”

“Are you considering being a cannibal, Waylon? Is that what this is? You’re turning into a human-eater? Oh no! Don’t eat me!” Xavier chuckled, giving Waylon a light shove. But Waylon wasn’t joking about it at all.

“I’m being serious, Xav. What if cannibals are right? Do humans actually taste…good?” Waylon spoke with weariness in his voice, and he did seem like he was being serious. Xavier stopped smiling.

“What are you saying? Are you actually a cannibal?” Xavier had a look of pure fear in his eyes, as if he thought Waylon was going to bite him any second. Waylon hated that look.

“It’s nothing. I was just…thinking. I have to get to class.” Waylon rushed towards his next class, leaving Xavier behind. His stomach knotted tightly inside of him. What was he becoming?

There was one night where Waylon saw the raw, defrosted chicken in the kitchen, and he almost ate it, but his mom came into the kitchen to tell him something so he stopped. But if she hadn’t, Waylon knew he would have eaten it, right there and then.

Waylon knew all of these things were happening because of that creature that bit him. But what he didn’t understand was, what was it? One night, he decided to research and find out if anyone else experienced these things. He found forums of people saying they had the same symptoms, and most unsettling of all - people claimed these were symptoms of becoming some horrible monster. The pictures and drawings that he found didn’t help. Was he really becoming…a monster?

That Friday, the varsity soccer team had a home game at six in the evening. Waylon didn’t mind night games, but today he felt very off. He had a weird dizzying sensation and this thirst for blood and flesh was growing. Now, he was always hungry. He just hoped he would make it through the game.

It was a slightly chilly night. The fall leaves had already started turning to warm shades and falling gently to the ground. As Waylon walked to the soccer field in his soccer cleats, the leaves crunched under his feet, as they baked to a crisp the previous day under the sun.

The sun was still out when the game started, but as always, it got darker as the game progressed.

Waylon noticed that his playing was a little off today. He kept getting distracted by staring at the other teams’ skin, and he almost let the ball in a couple of times. Others started to notice this too. Xavier was also on the soccer team, and he was one of the most concerned people, because Waylon had talked to him previously about his wanting to eat human flesh, and ever since then, Xavier couldn’t help but notice that his friend was acting very strange.

Even when Waylon subbed out and sat on the bench, he was in some weird state, and he didn’t cheer for his team because he was distracted by…something. And he didn’t know what.

It only got worse. In the last minutes of the game, Waylon let the ball in because he was staring so intently at someone on his team’s shoulder. It was getting hard to tame these feelings. Unfortunately, the opposing team scored a goal, and the game ended as a loss for the team. Everyone saw Waylon being distracted, and when they came back, they were all staring at him with a look of disappointment and anger.

“Waylon, are you okay today? You seem a little off.” the coach asked him, after he talked to the whole team.

“I…I have to go to the bathroom, sorry,” Waylon quickly rushed towards the school. But he didn’t go inside. He lingered outside in a place where no one could see him.

What’s happening to me? I just caused a loss for our team, that almost never happens! He thought with dismay. He took a few deep breaths, but the thoughts of craving raw flesh were still there. Why? He leaned against the brick wall. He looked at the rustling branches and the falling leaves. He looked at the sky. The moon looked so beautiful that night. It was so full, and round, and glowing, and its light reflected off Waylon’s eyes.

Suddenly, Waylon began to feel tightness in his shoes. That was weird. He never felt that before, maybe his feet grew really fast in the past couple of days. But it was getting tighter. Why? For some reason, he kept thinking about this question, why. But then he forgot what he was asking why. Where was he again? Why was he here? The shadows of the trees seemed to be moving. Was the dirt shifting? Maybe he was dreaming, but he didn’t remember passing out. The ground seemed so far away…had he grown taller? And his jersey felt too small. In fact, it seemed to be shrinking. What was happening? Was he getting a seizure?

I’m hungry. I’m hungry. I’M HUNGRY. Was all he could think about. And the moon, the beautiful moon, just hanging there in the sky, casting its moonlight onto everyone. How nice of it. Waylon’s breathing became hoarse, like a sound he heard before, but he didn’t know where. He looked down and saw big, furry paws and feet. He didn’t care. All he thought about was finally being able to taste delicious human flesh, after waiting so long. He didn’t think that he might be killing people, or that people would feel sad. All that mattered was that he would be full, and he would get to hear their screams. It was his time.

He howled. He never had before, but it just seemed natural. Like something he was supposed to do but was never taught. And it was a triumphant howl. It was a howl that said, this is what you were made for.

He thought of all the people he would devour, and it felt so good to think about it. If it felt this amazing to think, what would it feel like to actually do it?