Merrick had fled from the light into an old house, fleeing from is scalding heat. Young fledglings feared the brightness and the burn as in time it'd peel and cook the skin.
The house sunk to the left like a rotten tooth in black, soiled gums. Empty frames with shattered windows looked out as blank eyes across the grass, the frost glittering in the moonlight.
The porch creaked beneath any weight, the front door kicked in and laying in the entry. The wood floors were warped from rain and weather, tattered curtains fluttering leading further into the house. Mice skittered in the dark.
The house reeked of mold and animals and beneath it all, blood. He'd lasted a week on his own though the days were blurred. The residents of the house lasted him two days but the need to eat drove him out. Livestock didn't settle his aching stomach and dogs and cats were too hard to catch.... he'd tried for a day and a half.
He'd stolen a woman when it all became too much. They'd caught him then, and he discovered he could regrow limbs. They'd taken a machete to him when they found him in the alley, tearing into her with wild abandon that came with immaturity.
In a bedroom he curled up in the blankets, cradling his tender arm, trying to ignore the ache of his body.
