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Description
At first I thought it was the storm disturbing my sleep. The wind was howling, the rain had been pouring down all day, and it had even hailed a little as we ate dinner. No-one felt like braving the weather for a night out in town, though town was a staple venue on our Saturday nights. I checked my alarm clock and saw that it was about half six, and felt thankful that it was Sunday morning instead of Monday. After all, Monday meant work and Sunday meant sleep.

As I began to sink back into my pillow, I heard it again. Some sort of scratching, clawing noise. We didn’t own a cat, the landlord wouldn’t let us, and almost every house in the street was rented by students with similar rules. Despite this, I tried to convince myself that it wasn’t entirely implausible that some stray cat was trying to find shelter from the storm.

My heart almost burst with adrenaline when I heard the familiar creak of the back door’s hinges. No cat could have opened it by itself. Panicking, I thought, thieves! Hearing a crash, I decided to get James. If it was a thief, then James was the person to get. I crept to his room noiselessly, as I listened to our intruder crawl around our kitchen. James was already awake, tugging a pair of jeans on furiously, as was Laura, her body tense and her eyes wide as she bit her nails nervously. I was glad, for her sake and mine, that the level-headed James was here with us. Had he been away that weekend, Laura and I may well have ended up cowering in the airing cupboard while the thief stole our TV.
“Lizzie, I’m scared!” I gave my friend a hug, tried to swallow my own anxieties and tell her that it was fine. Thefts happened all the time in our area, what with the students and all. Easy prey.
“You two can stay here while I sort this shit out,” whispered James, grabbing his fencing sword from the side of the wardrobe. I almost laughed.
“Oh come on…”
“I only need to scare them for Christ’s sake!” snapped James.
“With that thing? What if you have to fight them?”
“They’ll be too scared at being caught, I kn…”
James was interrupted by another crash. Clapping her hand over her mouth, Laura tried to suppress a nervous sob as James stole out of the room.

We waited with bated breath, waited for the shout of ‘what the hell do you think you’re doing?’ and the slam of the kitchen door. We waited, but it didn’t come. I strained my ears for any sort of sound… and then we heard the scream.

It began low and deep, almost a yawning, gut-wrenching roar… Laura and I clutched one another, our expressions mirrored in each others faces as the scream distorted into a sickening crescendo. I let go of Laura, and pressed my hands over my ears, but still, I could hear it, still I could feel my eardrums almost bursting at the sound of this piercing, penetrating banshee-shriek. Even when it finally ended, I could hear it echoing, the sound imprinted in my mind. Laura was shaking, I was shaking…we didn’t know what to do. Somehow, I knew, I just knew that whatever was downstairs… it wasn’t a thief, it wasn’t a cat… and I doubted that it was even human. I needed to know what had happened to James. Laura wasn't as keen to find out.
“No! We don’t even know what that was!” she cried, understandably shaken.
“We have to go down there Lau, we can't just leave James and hide up here!" Laura shook her head, cried no, over and over again, and it was obvious that there was no convincing her. I was frightened, scared to death, but I pulled myself together enough to brave the journey to the kitchen.

At first glance, it just seemed as though we’d had some sort of party in the kitchen. A few things broken, not much, and the one cupboard door hanging from its hinges. But then there was James’ broken body, lying face down on the floor in a puddle of blood, his limbs set at curious and impossible angles. It looked like every bone in his body had been broken, every muscle, every ligament, torn… it was sickening, and I couldn’t bear to look. A foul smell lingered in the air. I retched, and my dinner from the night before almost resurfaced. I looked around the kitchen in an attempt to compose myself, noticing that the kitchen door was swinging on its hinges. It was clear that whatever was here, whatever had done this… had now gone. Impulsively, I reached for the phone, though I knew that no doctor could help James now. But I was distracted by a groan that came from the shattered body of my friend.

“James?” I thought, shit, was he alive? Could he be alive? Then I heard it… the sound of his ankle popping into place. His body began to convulse, pulling itself together, resetting bones, re-stitching torn muscle. Everything cracked, popped, tumbled back into place as James’ body began to stand upright. His neck snapped back into place and I saw that his eyes… this wasn’t James… this was… something else. The last thing I heard before I turned and ran was its first breath, its lungs expanding and contracting as this creature breathed a new and strange life anew.

Description
At first I thought it was the storm disturbing my sleep. The wind was howling, the rain had been pouring down all day, and it had even hailed a little as we ate dinner. No-one felt like braving the weather for a night out in town, though town was a staple venue on our Saturday nights. I checked my alarm clock and saw that it was about half six, and felt thankful that it was Sunday morning instead of Monday. After all, Monday meant work and Sunday meant sleep.

As I began to sink back into my pillow, I heard it again. Some sort of scratching, clawing noise. We didn’t own a cat, the landlord wouldn’t let us, and almost every house in the street was rented by students with similar rules. Despite this, I tried to convince myself that it wasn’t entirely implausible that some stray cat was trying to find shelter from the storm.

My heart almost burst with adrenaline when I heard the familiar creak of the back door’s hinges. No cat could have opened it by itself. Panicking, I thought, thieves! Hearing a crash, I decided to get James. If it was a thief, then James was the person to get. I crept to his room noiselessly, as I listened to our intruder crawl around our kitchen. James was already awake, tugging a pair of jeans on furiously, as was Laura, her body tense and her eyes wide as she bit her nails nervously. I was glad, for her sake and mine, that the level-headed James was here with us. Had he been away that weekend, Laura and I may well have ended up cowering in the airing cupboard while the thief stole our TV.
“Lizzie, I’m scared!” I gave my friend a hug, tried to swallow my own anxieties and tell her that it was fine. Thefts happened all the time in our area, what with the students and all. Easy prey.
“You two can stay here while I sort this shit out,” whispered James, grabbing his fencing sword from the side of the wardrobe. I almost laughed.
“Oh come on…”
“I only need to scare them for Christ’s sake!” snapped James.
“With that thing? What if you have to fight them?”
“They’ll be too scared at being caught, I kn…”
James was interrupted by another crash. Clapping her hand over her mouth, Laura tried to suppress a nervous sob as James stole out of the room.

We waited with bated breath, waited for the shout of ‘what the hell do you think you’re doing?’ and the slam of the kitchen door. We waited, but it didn’t come. I strained my ears for any sort of sound… and then we heard the scream.

It began low and deep, almost a yawning, gut-wrenching roar… Laura and I clutched one another, our expressions mirrored in each others faces as the scream distorted into a sickening crescendo. I let go of Laura, and pressed my hands over my ears, but still, I could hear it, still I could feel my eardrums almost bursting at the sound of this piercing, penetrating banshee-shriek. Even when it finally ended, I could hear it echoing, the sound imprinted in my mind. Laura was shaking, I was shaking…we didn’t know what to do. Somehow, I knew, I just knew that whatever was downstairs… it wasn’t a thief, it wasn’t a cat… and I doubted that it was even human. I needed to know what had happened to James. Laura wasn't as keen to find out.
“No! We don’t even know what that was!” she cried, understandably shaken.
“We have to go down there Lau, we can't just leave James and hide up here!" Laura shook her head, cried no, over and over again, and it was obvious that there was no convincing her. I was frightened, scared to death, but I pulled myself together enough to brave the journey to the kitchen.

At first glance, it just seemed as though we’d had some sort of party in the kitchen. A few things broken, not much, and the one cupboard door hanging from its hinges. But then there was James’ broken body, lying face down on the floor in a puddle of blood, his limbs set at curious and impossible angles. It looked like every bone in his body had been broken, every muscle, every ligament, torn… it was sickening, and I couldn’t bear to look. A foul smell lingered in the air. I retched, and my dinner from the night before almost resurfaced. I looked around the kitchen in an attempt to compose myself, noticing that the kitchen door was swinging on its hinges. It was clear that whatever was here, whatever had done this… had now gone. Impulsively, I reached for the phone, though I knew that no doctor could help James now. But I was distracted by a groan that came from the shattered body of my friend.

“James?” I thought, shit, was he alive? Could he be alive? Then I heard it… the sound of his ankle popping into place. His body began to convulse, pulling itself together, resetting bones, re-stitching torn muscle. Everything cracked, popped, tumbled back into place as James’ body began to stand upright. His neck snapped back into place and I saw that his eyes… this wasn’t James… this was… something else. The last thing I heard before I turned and ran was its first breath, its lungs expanding and contracting as this creature breathed a new and strange life anew.