About Meow-self

I still remember that Halloween night as I walked through the woods alone. A harvest moon hung in the sky providing more than enough light for my favorite shortcut. I had laughed off my friends’ suggestions for a ride home. Who’d attack anybody in a zombie costume on this of all nights? As I came to the middle of my route I saw a black cat, no doubt some farm cat with its paw stuck in a trap. As I freed it the trap cut me mixing our bloods.

I thought nothing of it until the next full moon. That is when I started to hunt. Deer at first and small animals, but towns have driven them away from the countryside and wooded hills. I felt some remorse for my first human kill, but not much. Humans have hunted my kind for centuries, and I only take the very worst of them. Not because I am good, but because they suffer the most. Their terror sustains me.

On All Hallows Eve my hunger is the greatest. I delight in the feel of my fangs piercing bones and the howls of my victims. Only those who are pure of heart and keep the traditions of Halloween escape my wrath. There are many more like me, waiting in the shadows to see the Jack O’ Lanterns lit. God help those who turn away children begging sweets for we surely won’t.

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