In the Moonlight by Amy Major, 13, winner of BBC 500 words Story Contest.
The girl sat in the moonlight.
“I’ll see you soon then,” the boy outside her window muttered “Stay safe and make sure to pack weapons, we’ll need them.”
Tamarah lifted her eyes from the rim of her snakeskin fedora. They glowed an unearthly yellow.
“Kyn,” her voice was low and threatening, “tell Rita and Drake to be prepared for the worst. They will never stop hunting us.”
The light ginger-haired boy nodded in understanding, the lack of light hiding his expression. Then, in less than a moment, he was gone. Wiped from the universe and wrapped in darkness. All that was left was a patch of flattened grass, far too big to have been made by a sixteen year-old.
The girl turned away from the night and into her room. She wore black leather boots and a dark blood-red t-shirt with a grey denim jacket over it. Her hand drifted instantly to her ear where three large earrings hung. One was a brown griffin feather, another a jagged dragon tooth and the last a pale-ginger kitsune hair.
She started to grab multiple items before stuffing them into a camping rucksack. These included a knife, a dark blue hoodie and many packets of rations.
Tamarah stood in front of her huge, open window and checked her watch; 11.50pm.
It was time.
Dark granite horns started to slowly protrude from her forehead, bending back in a curved fashion that poked holes in her fedora. Her eyes became a cold grey and clothes grew stiff and rough. A pointed triangle-tipped tail lashed wildly as huge metallic-blue silky wings stretched themselves loose again. She lifted a pearly claw to where her earrings had taken the role of detailed carvings along her neck.
Grinning at her new-found freedom she slowly lifted her rucksack before shooting into the star filled sky.
Now she was soaring through the night sky, cutting through the curved clouds, Tamarah could finally think. She had left the place she’d called home for sixteen years with no hesitation. She was in possession of an impressive array of weapons. She was prepared to use these weapons. No wonder the police wanted her species dead.
Tamarah didn’t care. If they believed they were monsters then they were right. She had embraced the monster, embraced the shifter, and was feeling quite good about it.
Nothing could stop her.
“When will she arrive?” the blonde-haired, scar-bearing boy known as Drake hissed impatiently.
“Now, now,” the Filipino girl known as Rita replied, “Don’t get your tail in a twist Dragon-boy, she isn’t even late.”
“Exactly.” A kitsune emerged from the depths of the woods.
“Hello Kyn.” Rita greeted as dappled brown feathered wings started to grow out of her back.
“What took you so long?” Drake grunted, the gaps in his teeth making his crooked frown more menacing.
“Humans.” Kyn sighed.
“Pesky, aren’t they?” a cold voice from an above oak tree announced.
Three pairs of bright yellow eyes glanced upwards.
The gargoyle sat in the moonlight.