Child of the Moon

As his mind rose from the sweet numbness of unconciousness he noticed but one thing. Pain, the first thing he felt when he woke up was pain, both physical and emotional. His body felt as if it had been abused as a punching bag, he was sore all over. As his mind cleared he noticed that he could not recall what had happened to him.

"Where... where am I?"

As the young man carefully opened his icy blue eyes the first thing to greet him was the light of the Gibbous Moon shining on him. Beeing bathed in Lunas light he felt at ease, he felt strangely connected to the moon. In his chest rose the desire to jump up and howl his oath of fealty towards the moon. Yet he managed to remain calm, for now.

"Mistress..."
Even as he spoke this word he wondered about its meaning, while he realized at the same time that this word was meant for the lambent lady above him.

As his eyes adjusted to the darkness around him, the tall and dirty brickwalls of an alley came into focus, then slowly the fact that he was lying flat on his back.
As he tried to get up his hand slipped and he crashed back onto the hard stone. BARRY! He winced as a jolt of pain went through his head and his mind.

"Ok so I probably am Barry..."
he grumbled, then he noticed a strange feeling. At first he thought that he was immersed in water or worse sewage. But then he realized that for some reason he knew this feeling all too well...

It was the warm and wet feeling of Blood surrounding him.
The scent of **** and decay filled this alley, assaulting his senses only now while mixing with the stench of the industrial block of London.

LONDON! His memory of this city came rushing back, in parts at least... That was right he was in London, he had no idea what he was doing here but he at least knew where he was!

Looking around he noticed a two piles of flesh, clothes and bones around him. Strangely these two horibly disfigured human corpses did not scare him at all, they simply seemed messy to him. In a flash of immages from his lost memories he saw two men walking towards him, he could not make out their faces, but he saw that one carried a gun and the other held a knife in his hand. Within secondes he had torn them to shreds, sinking his fangs into their throats and slaughtering them for attacking him here.

Was he a murderer, a psychopath? Before he could not find an answer another sensation washed over him. It was a horrible feeling of loss and sadness as well as bewilderment. He fought those feelings as hard as he could but it seemed to be a losing battle.