The  Aliens verses  the
  Our story begins one moon lit night, in
Springtime.    The moon was a full round
shape that night and because of that, it
seemed so sensuous in the sky.   But our
night would be anything than sensuous
tonight and it would be different than all of
the other nights ever experienced.    This
night would be wrought with age old violence
and pain.   This would be the night of the
disrupted moon.
Green would be the color of this night and not
the usual blood red that our beast was so fond
of.  This tale, is only at its beginning and our
werewolf has some morbid curiosity over these
strange beings before him.  This night our
Werewolf would lay low totally engrossed in
these strange and terrible creatures before him,
because for some reason they were sending
chills down his back.  Coming from them, were
the growls and sounds he'd never heard before
and their bodies he'd never seen before.   And
worst of all, he was scared.  These were all new
feelings to him.  This was not in his plan and he
knew that instinct would not help him now.  But
even with all this, he couldn't  tear himself away
from this scene before him...so he watched.
As our werewolf soaked in these sights,
his thoughts wandered as he heard a
sounds coming through the trees.    A
reptilian clicking sound, he struggled to
understand.  This was his forest and he
never heard sounds like this before.  A
title from some story, he knew as a
human, quickly shot through his mind,
"Something wicked this way comes".  He
felt that in very core.  These feelings
peaked his curiosity, so he kept his focus
in that directions, but decided that staying
out of sight was the most logical course of
 action he could take.
Its teeth were silver and shimmered in the
moonlight.  As he watched, a chill went down the
werewolf's spin.  Our werewolf's snout curled up
trying to get a scent of the being before him.  He
looked down on the ground, there were rats
scampering around and didn't seem to be
affected by the hideous creatures that stood
above them.  Maybe because of their size, it
made no difference.  Because this is where our
werewolf would stay and take cover, behind this
tree, it seemed safe enough for him tonight.  
Standing motionless maybe his best defense
against these blood thirsty demons from never,
never land.   Yes, not moving a muscle, sounded
like the best thing he could do for himself tonight.
Because the sound was foreign to his mind he edged up, with the
utmost care and attention.  His eyes fell upon a site that familiar to
him, these were his mortal enemies.  The horrible beings that aimed to
ruin his night of lust for mens flesh.  How would he rid himself of   his
enemies.  His instincts kicked in and all was the norm as he readied
him self for the fight.  He did notice the sent of our werewolf hiding in
the tree, but for now it was secondary to what lay ahead on this night.  
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In all his excitement the werewolf wasn't watching where he was
going and tripped over a stone.  He fell to the ground hard, then
looked up and saw sight he'd never seen before and at once knew
that this night would be like no other night before.  This night he
would be the bystander and not the main attraction.

It was his time of day, nightfall had come and his emotions wee
riding high.  He was still changing into the beast man and had a
vague recollection of being some  horrible creature that tore the
flesh from someones young body, just the night before.    
But in just a short while, these memories would be gone from his
mind and all that would remain would be the present being,
so very different than who he was in his mind before.

He was living with the mark of the beast in his soul and nothing
could change that except the shot of a silver bullet in his flesh. For
now he would follow the age old plan, where his instincts would take
over and his thirst for a human pain and blood would win out over
his mortal morals, he walked with, just less than a hour ago.  The
thirst for flesh and the screams that would bellow through the night
as he plunged his long sharp teeth into a throat of some
unsuspecting passerby.  That is what he longed for.  The time he
spent in this changed body of hair and muscle was real to him now
and surge of blood flowing down his canine throat was his need.

He look up into the nights sky and saw the golden orb, called our
moon.  He let out a howl, which bellowed in the night.  
Tonight, he was a werewolf and the only thing that could change
that fact would be death itself.
Predators
and a watcher
Our  story  is  called
One Disrupted Moon
the mad monster maker