Your Nocturnal Saga

(Warning: mentions of blood throughout)

The first thing to register was the splatter of water hitting your bare skin. Eyes open to pitch blackness, but you feel yourself laid out across wet, gritty stone. Your body is sluggish and weak as you struggle to push yourself up onto one knee, almost toppling a few times before finally feeling steady enough to rise up to your feet, stumbling and falling against what feels like a brick wall as soon as you do.

You give yourself a moment to recover, your eyes adjusting to the darkness to see your surroundings clearly.

All you see is a thin length of empty alleyway, squashed between two featureless brick walls made slick by the pouring rain, which pooled in the grit and dirt beneath your bare feet.

You don't feel the cold, even your nude body, nor the impulse to question either. Instead you your strenghless legs into motion, arm against the wall for support, too foggy-minded to consider why or where your going.

You stop as you feel...something. A throbbing, pounding sensation, not in your body, but a little ways away, in the distance. You realise it's something you can hear, something that drowns out the rainfall and your squelching footsteps, till it's steady drum fill your ears entirely, your whole body aching with the beat as it takes control.

You can't even process how fast your body is moving, on whatever bestial instinct has taken over, nor where your even going. The whole world seems to fade away, nothing worth seeing or feeling beside that approaching thump.

You feel some slight resistance as you collide into and fall onto something. Your fists tighten around what you think are limbs, and you feel your mouth press against something soft, warm, and slightly furry.

Then something fills yours mouth; a sweet, tangy fluid that sends gooesbumps across your whole body as you greedily gulp it down. You hear yourself growling, snarling between swallows, lost in whatever primal urge has taken you.

Eventually, whatever influencing you weakens and control of yourself seeps back. After rearing back and snarling into the night sky, your sense returns as well, and you feel the warm liquid coating your mouth, trickling and dripping from your chin, onto the pale, figure your straddling.

He's a skinny looking man, possibly in his mid-thirties, with ghost white skin, a glazed over expression, and a pair of bloody marks in his thin throat, still oozing it's contents onto his grey hoodie.

The realization has you dumbstruck, until a screech from somewhere behind jumpstarts you onto your feet and sprinting forward. The world blurs around you as the wind flurries against your skin.

By the time you stop, your surrounded by a thick nest of trees. Well out of sight, you take the long-awaited moment of calm to finally take stock, squatting beneath the breast tree and clutching your head in your damp hands as you do.

You remember nothing before the alleyway. You know enough to recognise and name the things you see around you, but who you are, where you are or were, and anything else worthy of mention are a blank. You suprise yourself somewhat how little of a reaction that elicits, as if it feels a natural state of mind, or of your's at least.

Speaking of which, your...feeding...it felt more than natural; you felt such an indescribable rush, and a undeniable gratification of an almost spiritual condition, as if it was what you'd wanted all along, in the old life and the new, without ever even knowing.

Now that the more existential queries have been somewhat satisfied, it would probably be best to address some of your more practical issues. You could probably start with the issue of your complete nudity, or your apparent homelessness, or just maybe the poor bastard you may or may not have just murdered.