The werewolves gathered in the center of the city that day. The last prey has been overthrown. Blood floods in dark corners which are usually always filled with rubbish heaps and sewage water. The fishy smell reigned for several hours, but there was nothing to worry about. The wind will dispel the odor, and besides, every city dweller is no longer concerned by the smell of blood and corpses. They are accustomed since many years ago. Now, the city is dominated by fanged men who incarnate wolves, not only when the full moon.
The city government was reorganized after the sun was shining the next day. At the council building, some of the most influential and brightest werewolves, making decisions about who would rule the city, also what they did to keep the night's massacre from being heard by outsiders.
When that bloody night lasts, all access to the city is blocked. The border guards who were on duty casually had to end up in the stomachs of the werewolves who began the initial steps of the attack. With the existence of vicious creatures in all the outer gates of the city from various directions, no outsider will know.
That afternoon, the new mayor was introduced. Fanged people cheered for the sake of welcoming a new day after long years of anguish having to live in the forest and fight for places and food with animals destined to go wild and eat meat from the heavens.
"How many centuries have we lived as low as animals? How many centuries have we been kicked out and rejected by humans? Now, we have power over ourselves and it's time for humans to know how capable, even more capable, to do more than they know!" the mayor shouted on the podium, accompanied by long-standing applause from the citizens.
Since then, the city dominated by the fanged changed its face. People work from noon to sunset to paint walls, towers, wells, places of worship, bridges and any building in all parts of the city, with black and gray paint. Shops that sell vegetables have been altered; they don't eat vegetables. Useless objects such as pianos, puppets, merry-go-rounds, books, anything that cannot satisfy the desires of eating that always suffer from werewolves, are collected in the center of the city together with the remains of prey living on bones.
"We have to bury all of it. If not, the stench will no longer fly to our homes, but also to the cities next door," said one of them when the first evening would end.
However, days are too late to work longer. Soon the sun will not appear and they will have to prepare themselves for incarnation. For those who don't want to find food, locking themselves in a room is more than enough. But, some of them are not satisfied if they have not surrounded and inspected every corner of the city with their own eyes. So that night, ferocious, fanged creatures, who looked like wolves but were well-built like humans, seemed to roam the corners of the city. No one knew what kind of horror would have happened if only an ordinary person had been there.
Certainly no human appeared with the awareness that the city was now occupied by fanged people, because the guards worked well. Everyone who enters the city is immediately slaughtered. During the day, they are left first to cross the border before being eaten or killed to sell their bodies to folk who are lazy to hunt. If migrants cross at night, don't expect to cross the city limits, even for an inch.
However, the city dwellers who all need human flesh cannot simply hang their stomachs on unlucky immigrants. They often have to go outside to hunt. No one asks for someone else's hunt, unless they have money saved or can give enough trust to others. However, most people prefer to hunt on their own, including the respected and most feared mayor.
For months such a life lasts. One day, someone in a library in a very distant city wondered about his errand boy who hadn't returned since two days ago. The errand boy loved to read and he thought the errand boy didn't go home to read some books in the library. Apparently he had never been to the library.
"Try to contact the tailor in town X, where your errand boy sent the goods there. I think that's the right way to find out where he is," suggested the library guard.
"If someone were much younger to take me. Now my body can't travel far. That's why I told my servant!" someone replied. He left after saying thank you.
All the way home, there was nothing to think about except his daughter who was so kind. Every year he would always send gifts to his daughter who worked as a successful tailor in a distant city. Most gift items are delivered by a courier or helper with a letter from him. Usually her daughter will also reply to the letter, but this year there was no reply. And, the errand boy on duty also never returned.
Over the night, this old man kept thinking about the stupid errand boy. What happened? One cold morning, he decided he would go there himself, by horse-drawn carriage. There was no one in this city that he could trust to simply drive her. People today ask too much and are fussy, he thought. So, he really went alone.
The trip which was only supposed to take half a day was even delayed. The old man stopped too much. He arrived at the city gate at night had crawled away. At the border post, no guard was seen. The day is really quiet. The air seemed immobile and there was no sound of any night animals, as if the old city was covered with a time tube.
Suddenly his horse rebelled and refused to advance. The old man's train spun around the last turn before reaching the gate a few dozen meters ahead. At the post, a guard patiently observes and wonders what kind of victim he got this time?
The horse, due to revolt, broke the leash. The train rolled and the old man collapsed after hitting his head. I don't know how long the old man fainted. He woke up the next morning in very uncomfortable conditions. Around him, an unpleasant aroma wafted. Strangely, he can get up immediately without feeling any pain in his joints and head.
"What happened?" The old man stared into the distance. The church tower looks
shabby in the morning mist. People walked without clothes, buildings with gray walls, and roads that looked slippery with red paint.
"This isn't paint," he thought, but he didn't speak.
"This isn't the smell of paint," he thought again, but he was still silent.
When he passed a clothing store that had long been closed, the old man felt he could not look at his own body. He even began to be sure his body was here, with him. Then, how does he walk?
The old man looked over his back, and from there the secret (at least the secret of the strange condition that had befallen his body this morning) was revealed. The mountain of bodies seemed soaked with blood soaring; with flies and maggots here and there. The old man did not want to throw up at all, despite his disgust. He could only run and think about his son's fate, but of course it was in vain. Isn't he also dead? Now his soul is running around the city with fanged people who look lazy to wear clothes, as if the night before there was a wild party that gave birth to a million sins.
