A very short story.
Howling at the Moon
She leapt and bound along the rooftops, working her way back to the city.
On nights like this she would often find herself in places she didn’t recognize, having followed a series of bloody events that lead further and further from the city. It’s not that she wanted to do the things she did, but when the moon took her on nights like tonight, her consciousness was relegated to the background as though in a waking dream. She could feel her body transforming, feel her mind lusting after chaos and blood. Though she’d never admit it some aspects of this exhilarated her. Being able to leap effortlessly from roof-top to roof-top is once such thing.
A sudden sound caught her attention. She slid to a halt on some old ceramic tiles, her claws scratching and smashing them noisily. Her ears pricked up, trying to hone in on the source, but it was gone now.
The moon was high in the sky now, a yearning grew.
Arching her back and her neck, she closed her eyes, raised her head, and let out a long, blood-curdling howl. Other dogs and animals started yelping and howling in response, though whether it was fear or otherwise it was hard to tell.
She howled again, louder this time, only to be cut off by an even larger “AOOOOOOOOOOOO” from all around her. It shook the very building she was situated on.
She stopped and looked around, confused by the intrusion.
“I’m up here,” the moon said. “It’s always howling at me. Aooo aoo aoo. I’m sick of it! Why howl at me? What’s the point? I’m just trying to sleep up here. Can’t you all howl at someone else, even just tonight? I just… I don’t even know what to say. I’m tired and exasperated.”
The moon started turning now, it’s face disappearing into the darkness, muttering to itself.
“Howling at the moon, honestly…”