Thomas’s Wednesday night odd encounter(Thomas)
Date: 2025-07-09 02:17
(Thomas’s Wednesday night odd encounter(Thomas):Thomas)
[Wed Jul 9 2025]
At the entrance to 22 Church Street
The private lawn spreads across several acres of carefully maintained grounds,/span>its pathways lined with ornate cast iron benches bearing intricate scrollworkthat serves both decorative and structural purposes. Brass pipes emerge fromthe earth at regular intervals, their warm surfaces creating small pockets ofheated air that encourage the early blooming of precisely arranged flowerbeds. The rising sun catches the elaborate metalwork of the park’s centralgazebo, where multiple tiers of decorative ironwork frame the structure’soctagonal form. Mature oak and maple trees cast lengthening shadows acrossthe manicured grass, their leaves showing the full green of late springgrowth. A network of gravel paths connects various sections of the park, eachroute marked by small brass plaques indicating approved walking circuits andmaintenance schedules. The morning air carries the faint scent of heatedmetal mixing with the fresh growth of the season.
It is night, about 74F(23C) degrees, and the sky is covered by dark grey stormclouds. It’s raining. The mist is heaviest At Maple and Sidney/span>/span There is a waxing gibbous moon.
(A vampire has selected your target as their next meal.
)
Constance is on her porch, in the rain, with a shotgun, sad about no werewolves showing up to kill.
No werewolves, but there is something out there in the rain — some figure that loves the night. For the moment, it is just watching Constance from a rooftop across from her home; she can’t see it, but there is the sense, uncomfortable, of being watched: it pricks at her, really.
Constance squints, shifting uneasily. She makes certain to have her more long-ranged carbine within arm’s reach, but considering there’s nothing actionable she continues waiting, on vigil during the night of the full moon to defend her property….or just use her property as an excuse for violence in a most American fashion.
Walking down the street comes Thomas — looking for Constance. “I’m shocked I didn’t crash,” he tells her, apparently completely unaware of the watching sensation. Constance can still feel it, though. He looks over at her shotgun. “Wolves?” he says. “Luka attacked Lola, earlier,” he shares.
As Thomas and Constance talk, whatever is out in the night and the rain is creeping slowly, slowly towards the pair. It moves perfectly silently, and more than anything — it has no smell.
Constance shrugs as she’s distracted by Thomas. “Hoping so,” she states. “Would love to get you a delivery of one like you mentioned the other day, but unfortunately they haven’t been roaming into Redstone, it seems. YEs, I was surprised to hear about that – on campus and everything.”
“I think it would be an interesting experiment,” Thomas says to Constance. “I heard another interesting thing tonight: apparently some wolf was wandering around the hospital on ‘medication’ to resist lunacy,” he says. “Makes me want to see what happens if we cast a lunacy ritual on such a ‘medicated’ wolf.”
Constance snorts. “Double lunatism at the same time. It’d probably work the same during the normal moons, but at the full moon….that’d be nuts, yeah,” she comments. “Woudl be worth an experiment.”
Closer, closer, closer. Thomas doesn’t seem to notice at all — whatever is approaching is night itself. “I agree,” he tells Constance. “We’ll get our moment, sooner or later,” he says. “I’m not really equipped to go toe to toe with a werewolf,” he acknowledges. “Battle is not my strength.”
Constance shrugs again. “That’s what you have me for,” she grins. “I can handle just about anything.”, she overconfidently boasts.
“Exact –” Thomas is cut off by a blur of black clothing, pale face, and fangs.
Constance picks up her halberd and sweeps for the vampire’s legs, leaping to her feet as she grins with the sudden adrenaline of a pouncing opponent – not a werewolf, but…!
“Fuck!” Thomas cries, digging for the knife he carries. Knife in one hand, glock in another.
“Where the hell did that come from?” Thomas asks Constance, shifting to the side. He raises his Glock, looking to get a bead on the vampire.
Constance wipes her forehead. “Looks like a fucking vampire?”, she wonders, “Judging by the fucking claws,” she murmurs, staring down at the incapacitated fanger.
“Jesus,” Thomas says, breathing heavily with his gun in his hand. “Cut that fucking thing’s head off,” he tells Constance. Looking up at the raining sky, he says grimly, “I don’t think we can burn it, but all the same: are you all right?” he asks her. “Did he bite you?”
Constance shakes her head. “No, managed to dodge it,” she states, as she brings the halberd down to decapitate the hunter as instructed, in a gruesome spray of gore.
The head rolls off — it bounces, once, twice, three times on the sodden grass. Thomas squints, looking down at it. “That is one good omen too many for a night like this,” he tells Constance. Looking over at her. “Time for me, at least, to get back home and inside. When you a find a werewolf…” He smiles. “You know who to call.”
Constance nods, smiling over at Thomas. “Definitely will.Good thing I was here, maybe it stalked you over?”, she wonders.
“My car is the color of blood,” Thomas tells Constance, now with some humor. “Well — until we meet again, Connie.” Then, with a jaunty smile, he’s off.