And now for something completely different!

Petturi Osuva, a man of a few words, didn’t exactly know how he’d gotten into such a strange set of mind.

It had all began in the morning. The very first thing he thought of was how hungry he was, which was odd since he wasn’t the type to eat breakfast. In fact, he often found himself skipping lunch as well, which made his thin constitution a matter of fact. But, since he didn’t much know what he would’ve eaten for breakfast even if he wanted it, he decided to skip it anyway.

It was five in the morning, and he didn’t want to annoy his wife and kids. They had a long day ahead of them, and so did he.

The air was tense. Yesterday had been strange, probably for everybody. But somehow, Petturi felt as if it had been especially strange for him. When he had looked at that great green thing in the sky, he had felt… recognition. It was odd, but he'd still had about three hours until he could clock out, so he didn’t quite have time to be panicked.

Now that Petturi thought about it, he really should have taken the time to observe it. The news seemed to describe the occurrence as either the end of the world or a hoax from some group (government?) but there was no evidence beyond the recordings and eye-witness reports. Regardless, this was today, and that was yesterday.

With that in mind, Petturi headed to work on foot, for the sake of getting some exercise. Sure, he could get up at 7 and take the car, but he enjoyed the stillness of the early morning. It was silent, but it was that anticipating silence, where the darkness came not after a brilliant dusk, but instead just before dawn. It left him feeling giddy. Hopeful.

He was that kind of person.

He reached his place of work at about 6. Early to work, early to home. It didn’t sound good, and it didn’t even rhyme, but Petturi wasn’t much bothered by that either. Well at work, he got about two hours of work done before any of his coworkers came into the office. As always, they jokingly commented on how early he was and then got to work themselves. A normal day. Well, a couple of his fellow workers were missing, taking leave to either calm down some of their hysterical family members or being hysterical themselves.

Time passed on, quite normally, except that Petturi really couldn’t stave off that hunger for long. Already by nine had he grabbed himself an apple to eat, but, somehow, it didn’t taste good. It just tasted wrong. Like he bit into a patch of grass or a bundle of soft wood. No, his cravings were of a more ravenous nature, almost carnivorous. The very idea upset Petturi very much since, well, he was a vegetarian. He hadn’t had a slab of meat since he was 20, before he even met his wife, Angelica.

Still, he was able to survive until lunchtime.

At which point he realized his lunch was leftovers from yesterday, which happened to have been vegetable stew. It was delicious, sure, he could remember loving it yesterday and any other time Angelica had made it, but… it was repulsive. The broccoli smelt rotten, the carrots felt limp in a very bad way, the brussel sprouts were absolutely wretched… he could barely keep it all down.

When he saw what his coworkers were eating…

Tender, juicy pieces of meat, lean yet flavorful chicken, fatty salmon… It made him drool. Him, a vegetarian of 20 years and counting, drooled at meat! A rare sense of disgust for his own self set in. He glanced down at his stew, and he knew he couldn’t eat it. But he couldn’t eat meat, either! Sure, he wanted to, and he hated himself for wanting to, but he couldn’t. He wouldn’t. He was an adult, and he knew to stick with the protocol.

And so, he went hungry. He could hardly focus. Thoughts of meat and forbidden foods ran through his head. Sometimes, he couldn’t tell whether the growling came from his stomach or from within his head. When the clock hit 3, he headed home. Larry, one of his closest friends, asked him if he wanted to go out for a beer later, but he declined. This in and itself wasn’t too unusual, but Larry could tell something was off.

Petturi didn’t really want to walk home. He felt weak. Light-headed and noodle-legged. Like he hadn’t eaten for five days or something. He couldn’t tell if he was walking faster or slower than usual. All he could feel was how hungry he was, and all he could hear was the growling of his own stomach. Or perhaps the growling came from elsewhere? Petturi did not humour the thought.

Once he came home, at about 16, he stumbled in like a drunk. The room was spinning and he felt himself drawn to the kitchen. To the food. Everything was too bright, too loud. Pulling the door to the fridge open, he found it filled with disgusting veggies, for the most part. The only appetizing bits in there was a small block of cheese, a package of salmon, and half a dozen eggs. Angelica may have been vegan, but the rest of them were vegetarians.

Petturi pulled out the aforementioned products, along with creme fraiche, normal cream, and a few types of greens(reluctantly). The salmon made him drool. He had about two hours until Angelica came home with little Majava in tow. Until then, he just had to make dinner. That was all.

Gnawing on his nails, he got to work.

Hiiri came home about an hour later, which was odd, since she was usually home first. But Petturi didn’t notice. He was busy sitting in front of the oven, staring at it like a frenzied meth-addict staring at his next shot. Hiiri, although she was a bit out of it today as well after all the magical girl stuff that had happened, did notice her father acting strange. Very strange, in fact. Sure, he was the cook of the house (except when Angelica’s vegetable stew was in order), but she couldn’t honestly say he’d ever had a passion for cooking, even if he was quite good at it.

He didn’t even blink.

“Dad? Are you alright?” she asked, stepping up to his dazed form. He didn’t even spare her a glance. “Well, alright…” she mumbled, and headed up to her room, where she planned on drawing her and her new friends until food was served. Her plan did go through, but along the way, she also started chatting with the girls in question, which was some of the most fun she’d had in a good while.

Downstairs, her father wasn’t faring too well. The growling seemed to only grow louder, the empty pain in his stomach following suit. He had to eat. He wanted meat, but this would do. Soon enough, Angelica came home, little Majava in tow, as she did every day. Petturi never regretted marrying her. She was the woman of his dreams. Kind, smart, beautiful… Her nose in the air, she took a deep breath.

“What are you making, dear?” she asked, placing Majava on the ground so he could play for a bit. Petturi glanced at her. His hair was disheveled, his eyes almost feral in nature. Angelica shuddered under his gaze.

“I’ve forgotten,” he replied honestly. He tried to smile at her, but all he could manage was a barely-smile, one half raised and the other almost a scowl. Angelica furrowed her brows and trodded up to him. For a moment, they stared at each other. And then, she leaned in, and hugged him.

“It’s alright. You’ll do better tomorrow,” she cooed encouragingly. Patting him on the back. His half-smile became full, and although his arms were weak and trembling, he still hugged her back. Maybe he would have cried.

“Angel, will you go fetch Hiiri and Majava? Dinner’s almost done,” Petturi said, dislodging himself from her arms. She smiled and walked away to do just that. Within five minutes, the happy little family sat at the table, all eating their food except for Angelica.

“Dear, have you made anything for me?” she asked almost worryingly. This food was omnivorous in nature, and there wasn’t even so much as a salad to go with it. Petturi would occasionally make food with elements she couldn’t eat, but he always made sure she had a meal to match her own diet. It was a matter of course. And yet, now they had this.

Hiiri wasn’t complaining, and neither was Majava, but even if they had been, Petturi wouldn’t have noticed. He had almost shovelled half of the salmon gratin into his hungry maw, all on his own. He didn’t seem to hear anything. Either that, or he was just ignoring her.

She really should have been angry, but instead, she was just sad. What could possibly have happened for him to act like this?

“Hiiri, how was school?” she politely asked her daughter, as mothers do. She should have been even more suspicious, considering how nervous Hiiri suddenly became.

“I-, uh. Not much happened. How were things down at the plantation?” Hiiri replied, trying to divert attention from herself. It worked well.

“Yes, the purple tomatoes are coming along nicely, and although the cucumbers haven’t quite grown to the expected size, we are assured they will soon grow beyond what we foresaw,” Angelica said, looking perfectly radiant. Petturi would’ve been in awe of her beauty if he didn’t have his hands full trying to quell his hunger and the growling in his head.

Dinner was only resolved once Petturi finished the gratin, to his own disappointment. The rest of the evening proceeded eventlessly, and by ten, all members of the family were in bed, asleep. That is, all but one.

Hiiri awoke to the sound of gnawing.

Her room was blanketed in shadow, the only light coming from a yellowish street lamp outside, colouring the room in a slight yellow. It might have just been the wind, making her house creak and groan as old houses did. But the bed wasn’t comfortable anymore. The room wasn’t warm, the house wasn’t silent.

Hiiri got up and out of bed, wrapping her covers around her. Had the house always been this cold?... Pulling the door to her room open, she scanned the house. That sound was still there. Broken bones scraping against each other, groaning like the dying. Hiiri could feel the hairs on her neck stand on edge, much like herself. The floor was cold as she tiptoed downstairs, to where the sound came from. If the cold wasn’t giving her goosebumps, her fear sure was.

It came from the kitchen. A blue light flooded from there, clashing with the soft yellows from the lamps outside. The gnawing grew louder, stronger, along with a wet, squishing sound. Hiiri’s heart was pumping in a crescendo, gaining in speed with every step she took. She didn’t want to go any further, but her curiosity overpowered her.

Soon enough, she saw it.

It was hunched over, folded over nearly into a ball. Tufts of hard, black hair sprouted like parasitic fungi from its body, mostly centred around its head, which was turned away from Hiiri. Large, almost huge, it saw in front of the opened fridge, not actually paying any attention to it. Instead, it’s massive hairy head was bowed down. That’s where the gnawing came from.

“Who-, what are you-,” Hiiri whispered, aghast, eyes wide and body ready to flee. The gnawing came to an abrupt halt. If Hiiri wasn’t scared out of her mind, she might have noticed how the beast not only flinched, but also trembled under her gaze, more like prey than predator.

It turned around.

Eyes like fire, fangs like knives. Bloodied and guilty, the maw hung open, stuck between hunger, fear and anger. Hiiri gasped, took a step back, faltered. If the creature had been any further gone, it would have pounced. But it wasn’t. Not yet.

“Hiighi-,” it growled, whimpered. She couldn’t tell. She could barely recognize the voice, but she did.

“D-, dad?...” she stuttered, more horrified than glad. The beast seemed to mirror her in this emotion. It turned fully, now revealing not only it’s horrid beast’s head, but also its body. The head and parts of the torso seemed to be that of a horribly mutilated wolf. Both arms and legs seemed to have mutated somewhat, the feet lengthening and the hands doing the same. But they remained hairless.

And Hiiri was finally brought to the realization of what the creature had been gnawing on: himself. His right arm was in tatters, abused beyond repair. Perhaps blood had flown in great rivers before, but now, the blood seemed to almost have run out, the skin as pale as the bone glistening between the ripped skin and torn flesh. Small chunks of bloody bone laid strewn about carelessly.

A growl brought her gaze back on the creature itself.

She barely had time to hear it whimper before it threw itself past her and burst out the door.

She followed.