Moonlit Maul

The world teeters on its axis, spinning with relentless fervor. I'm caught in the whirlwind of its dizzying dance, a flurry of color and jarring sound that engulfs my senses. I twirl in my yard amidst this chaos, the hem of my dress billowing outwards in a bold display of pink that harshly contrasts with the eerie silver glow cast by the full moon hanging heavy in the night sky.

My dress flutters around me like iridescent wings of a butterfly trapped mid-flight - delicate yet pulsating with life. It's vibrant, almost violently so, a garish shade that shrieks loudly against the quiet serenity of the lunar radiance.

Reflected in my eyes is the vast expanse of the sky above - pure and unblemished blue. They're wide-open portals to my soul, brimming with curiosity and wonderment. My lips part into a wide grin, stretching across my face like a glorious banner heralding unabashed joy and innocence inherent to youth. Abruptly, I halt mid-twirl as though someone had pressed pause on an old film reel. My gaze lands on him - Daddy. 

"Daddy," I start hesitantly, my tiny fingers tracing an invisible outline on my forehead as if sketching out thoughts before giving them voice. "Do you remember...my fancy hat?" 

The words hang between us like fragile glass ornaments dangling precariously from a tree branch. His brows knit together as he delves deep into his memory bank, sifting through countless moments and experiences stored there for any trace or recollection of such an object. His face reflects his mental struggle - confusion etched deep into his uneven brow as he searches for answers within his intricate mind.

"Regrettably, my darling," he murmurs with a softness that denies the gravity of his words. 

I acknowledge this with a solemn nod, my mind already winding back the years as I prepare to unravel my story. 

"In another life, I was an employee at a large bank, and my daily commute consisted of the public bus," I reveal with an air of nonchalance. 

My eyes begin to expand, each word drawing them open further like curtains on a stage, absorbing the lunar glow in their depths until they shine like twin beacons of molten gold.

"I wasn't well-off during those times," I proceed seamlessly, the rhythm of my narrative unbroken. "Every single coin was precious to me, and I scrimped and saved until I could afford that hat." 

A sigh brimming with nostalgia escapes from between my lips as I press my fingertips against my forehead with more intensity now. "A pillbox hat spun from pure lupine wool, identical to one worn by Myrna Loy."

His brow grooves at the unfamiliar name but his confusion goes unnoticed by me; it's just background noise in the symphony of memories playing in my head. Unfazed, I persistently plow on through the fog of his bewilderment. 

"The bus route always took me past the cinema where they used to screen talkies." At this juncture, his perplexity is etched so visibly across his face that it could have been carved into stone, but it serves only as fuel for me to continue.

"One fateful day, a man stepped onto the bus clad in a long coat of muted gray...I'm convinced he was tailing me." The term 'talkies' bounces around our conversation like an echo lost in time's maze causing his disorientation to spiral even further into chaos. His face twists into a grimace as though he's trying to decipher a foreign language, but my tale is far from over. The past has opened its doors and there's no stopping the flood of memories now.

"The man, he took a seat beside me," I begin, my voice as unyielding and firm as granite under the weight of an ocean. "I was famished, Daddy, starving to the point where every breath felt like a knife in my gut." 

I pause for dramatic effect, letting the silence hang heavy between us before continuing.

"And then…then he did something strange. He pulled out this piece of meat from a crumpled package of brown parchment. Raw and bloody," I add with an eerie calmness that contradicts the grotesque nature of my story. 

"I was so desperate...so I bit into it." The words linger in the air, thick and suffocating like fog on a winter's morning. His face pales visibly as he struggles to swallow down the bile rising in his throat.

"Then came the gun," I continue nonchalantly, my eyes distant as if recalling a forgotten dream rather than a lurid reality. "He pointed it at me...and shot me right in the head. Just like that." My fingers mime an imaginary gun at my temple, pulling the trigger with an unnerving smile playing on my lips.

"Is that what happened?" His voice is barely audible now, choked and strangled by disbelief and horror. The words claw their way out of his mouth painfully slow, each syllable echoing in dark air.

"Yes," I reply with an unsettling casualness before resuming my dance across our lawn; each twirl and spin more haunting than the last against our mundane conversation backdrop. 

In mid-spin though, something catches my eye - tiny specks of blood staining my once pristine pink dress. They stand out starkly against its fabric like drops of crimson confetti scattered carelessly by some morbid partygoer.

"Daddy," My voice is raspy now; hungry and raw as it breaks through our chilling repartee. "I'm hungry... I haven't eaten since that bus ride." My eyes, once innocent and vibrant, now resemble molten orbs of predatory orange. 

"Surely...surely we can find something for you to eat," he stammers out, his composure hanging on by a mere thread in the face of my horrifying revelation.

"No, Daddy," I purr, my voice dripping with a chilling menace as I slither towards him. An eerie grace envelops my movements, my feet barely brushing against the grass. "I'm not talking about that kind of hunger. Not the gnawing emptiness in your stomach after skipping lunch." My lips curl into a wicked smile, teeth gleaming under the pale moonlight.

"What... what has happened to you?" His voice wavers, echoing with desolation and despair. 

He stumbles backwards, his eyes wide and filled with an unspeakable dread.

A guttural growl bubbles up from within me, reverberating through the silent night like a warning bell. The transformation seizes me in its cruel grip - fingers elongating and hardening into lethal talons; coarse fur sprouting along the length of my spine; ears stretching upwards into sharp, pointed tips that cut through the still air. 

With a swift surge of agility that feels alien yet exhilaratingly primal, I launch myself at him. He crashes onto his back with a thud that shakes the ground beneath us. My jaws part in as I hover over him, ready to take a bite that will send him into eternity.