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 this sound was so foreign to mind he edged up through the
trees with the utmost care and attention.  When his eyes fell upon the
site that stood before him, his thoughts raced with confusion and
despair.  What were these horrible beings that aimed to ruin his night
of lust for the flesh.  Where did they come from and how does he rid
himself of the mutilation that even stymied his own tactics of the hunt.
 This was almost more than he could bear, when he noticed the parts
that lay on the ground, from a fight that was already in progress.  But
what confused our werewolf the most, was the color of the blood that
seeped from the wounds of these creatures.  It was some strange
shade of green.  It was luminous.  Whatever it was, the color he
favored so much in his mind, blood red, was not a part of the picture
he saw before him this night.  This was the color of fear.
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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