Thread: Bats in Broom Closets

Listening through the wood, Mickel could tell when she left him for a moment and he quickly took the opportunity to try the door again, pushing his weight against the handle to try to open it. There was a small give to it so it was likely a chair or something pressed against it and he thought maybe with enough force, he could dislodge it and get it to pop open. When she returned though, he was on his best behavior, pressing his ear to the door and listening to the faint rustle of paper. At her questions, he bristled, wondering why she needed to know any of that. She knew he was lying, that's why, and she was trying to trap him into telling her the truth. Or maybe she was calling the authorities now and was trying to get information from him. Honestly, it wasn't that big of a deal for her to know where he lived but he was feeling a little hurt by her unspoken accusation - no matter how true it was. You are playing the games with me, Mdchen, I think! You need to let me out now! Mickel paced a little in the small space and banged on the door with the flat of his hand in frustration. I do not know where I was! I was drunk! Why are you keeping me here? I told you I am not wanting trouble and I do not! If you think I may hurt you do you not think I could have done that last night any time I was wanting? This was taking too long and he wasn't going to convince her. All he wanted was to get out of here and get home as soon as he could to try to defend his actions from last night before someone decided without him, based on the accounts of others, what his punishment should be. And here she was wasting his time and trying to trick him! This dirty, Frulein! Dropping the cloth to drape around his ankles, he stared at the door and breathed deeply in the enclosed space. Trying to calm himself, he sought to harness the power that he was born with, letting it fill him to the very edges of his being, his short spiky hair prickling all over his scalp. He thought of forests. Running. Warmth. His blood rushing hot. The thrill of the hunt. Calling out to his brothers. Running. Running. Powerful muscles pounding into the soft, musty earth. Without realizing it he was crouching down, his body shrinking and fur sprouted over his smooth skin, covering his tattoos. Black fur with slender legs and a narrow snout filled with sharpened teeth, pointed ears pricked up and listening to the sounds beyond the door. Everything became simpler in this form, his thoughts formed in tiny half-sentences and sensations. Out. Open space. He needed out. There was no guilt or shame of discovery or thoughts of what awaited him at home. He simply wanted to be free to run. Cool water. Breeze. Birds. With a heavily muscled shoulder he ran in the space provided and collided with the door, shaking it on it's hinges. Darkness still. He tried again, rushing at the barrier with all of his might, the middle of the door cracking outward slightly. Spurred on by this, he made another run at the door, but other than more cracking noises, he couldn't get through and he was worn out from the effort of trying. Now with a whining growl, he realized he was stuck for the next five minutes as a wolf. And he was still locked in the goddamn closet. Without conscious thought, Mickel panted and let out a deep, mournful howl, lamenting about his craptastic situation.