“This will turn me into a werewolf that shall devour you,” he promised me as he took off his blue jersey to prevent ripping it during his transformation. The coloring on his chest ranged from tanned on the arms, bright red on the shoulders to pale while around his stomach. I smiled at him and nodded, indicating my readiness. He cleared his throat, and then began speaking in a deeper tone attempting an air of seriousness.
Spirits from the deep, who never sleep... Spirits from the grave, without a soul to save... Spirits of the air, foul and black, not fair... Spirits of the dead, that glide with noiseless tread...
I suspect he just enjoyed reading out loud to me; he was a good reader and storyteller. He started growling at me playfully, grabbing onto me and wrestling with me.
Despite the summer air, there was a chill, a feeling that something was watching us from the darkness. It was an exciting, yet terrifying feeling. A slight ground fog developed in the woods and it was getting darker as the sun disappeared below the horizon. He looked at me more intently and read the last few verses before it became too dark to see the book anymore. We both sat quietly; I found my imagination working a mile a minute. I felt as though death may be just a moment away. The expression on his face turned more serious now, and we looked into each other’s eyes. It was almost as if we were both preparing for something. Once again, I was getting this familiar feeling, desire.
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