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The Stranger

I met a stranger in a dream. I'd been researching the Otherkin, people who claim to be elves, dragons, goblins, anything but human. Online, they are legion.

After a patient died, it became my obsession. What made him hunger for human flesh? Why didn't cameras record him? He said he wasn't human. The Otherkin knew why.

Oliver was a werewolf. "Therianthrope," he corrected me. "We're not all wolves." He only shifted astrally, in dreams. I asked him which was real, him or the wolf. "I am the wolf."

Sheep's clothing.

He wanted to meet in our dreams. I said I couldn't; I was wrong. I stood in a forest of impossibly tall trees. A wolf approached, but Oliver stood before me. "What a rush," he said with a feral grin. He ran off on four legs.

Then I was a wolf, realized I had always been a wolf. Dream logic. We ran for hours, through woods and mountains, over glaciers. I killed an antelope, felt its blood drip off my fangs. It was a rush.

Deep inside me, something had awakened. Something ancient and alien, yet familiar as my heart beat.

I was the stranger I met in my dream.

kelson.philo's picture

k, i jest now read where you

k, i jest now read where you said this was all for flash fiction so please disregard the comment i left on 'the ghoul'...i think, though, you hae the potential for threading these into a larger work.