Become Your Fursona

We had to take the stairs, because my wings couldn’t fit in the elevator.

It was embarrassing. I tried holding my arms high at first, trying to keep the feathers from trailing the steps, and it looked like I was pantomiming being led off in chains. But then I came to the landing, and even though it was on the outside of the motel it had an enclosed ceiling that my feathers were brushing against. So I had to backtrack and try again, walking backwards while holding my hands in front of me as though I were jogging or boxing.

“You look like Rocky in reverse,” Jen said, watching me from the landing.

“Hush.” I gritted my teeth, as I felt my wings brush the walls of the stairwell. I couldn’t see them, but I already knew they were curved outwards from my arms. I’d found that out yesterday.

I pressed my hands together like I was praying, trying to keep my wings close enough together that they didn’t bump into anything. “Now you look like you’re doing penance,” Jen observed, as I got up to the landing.

“Hush.” She went up the stairs the rest of the way, as I carefully rounded the landing without bumping my wings into anything. I stopped for a moment to look out over the parking lot, at the sides of buildings and the freeway in the distance, and I started to feel claustrophobic. I focused on the white puffs of breath in front of me instead, and started working my way up the second flight of stairs.

“I’m serious, Arrow.” Jen still called me by my screen name. “You’re being OCD about this. It’s like Mister Monk Becomes a Yokai or something.”

“I am not a yokai.” I finally got up to the second floor, beside her. “And I didn’t ask to have my nerves backfire like this. If my insurance was any good I’d be seeing a doctor about it, not this … this … friend of yours.”

Beneath her scarf and stocking cap, she was trying not to smile. I followed her eyes down to my hands, which I was still holding out in front of me.

“This isn’t funny!”

“Okay, then.” She started off down the walkway, on the side of the motel. “This way.”

I followed her past the rows of numbered doors. Trying to calm my nerves, and ignore the strain in my wrists from holding my hands up so long. I could just let my “wings” drag, of course, but it didn’t feel right. It was like walking up to a wall, and feeling your face plant into it from a foot away. I didn’t know how to describe it, except that it was just really unnerving.

I rounded the corner, and saw Jen stop in front of her friend’s room. I hurried to join her, but just as I did one of the housekeepers came out of a door ahead of me, and started pushing her cart past. I pressed myself to the railing with my arms out in front of me, but my inside wing wasn’t close enough, and I felt the cart slide slowly and painfully past it. My face contorted, as I felt my feathers get pulled back and break, and I squeaked in pain just as she went past.

Jen stood there a moment watching me from down the walkway, as the housekeeper rounded the corner. Then she came up and saw the pained look on my face. “What’s wrong?”

“It hurts,” I said through my teeth, my eyes still locked on the ceiling.

“Do you need me to scratch it for you again?”

“Yes!”

She started to do so, and I recoiled. “Not that way!”

“Which way, then?”

“Towards … that way,” I said, pointing. “Away from me.”

She moved her hands through the air out in front of me, trying to smooth my feathers back into place without being able to see or feel them. It stung at first, but after a moment I let out my breath as the pain stopped.

I stifled a grin. I could feel her massaging my wing, and it actually felt kind of nice.

“Is that better?” she asked.

“Yes.”

She stepped back, and I stood away from the railing, still holding my hands out. “Let’s go.”

* * *

Her friend wore a white sweater and blue jeans, and had vaguely asian features. “Sorry about the mess,” she said, sweeping food wrappers into the trash from the desk where her laptop was set up. “I’ve got ten more articles to write if I want to make this week’s rent.”

I looked around at the inside of the room … cardboard boxes piled against one wall, canned goods stacked next to the microwave. The coat rack was crammed full of clothing on hangers, and her laptop was old and beat up. She switched off the TV, then tossed the remote on the bed before looking up at me. “I don’t think we’ve been introduced.”

Jen took a deep breath. “Arrow, this is Katherine Sato; Kath, Arrow Quivershaft.”

She held out her hand, and I looked back down at her. I’d been peering at the display set up on the nightstand … it looked like there were ceramic figurines of some kind, set up around a large “jewel” that I was pretty sure was made of glass.

I shook her hand carefully, stepping back a bit so that my feathers didn’t bump into anything. “Uh, hey … ”

“So you decided to take a new name?” she asked, letting go.

I just looked at her blankly.

Jen coughed. “I think it’d work great for him … but no, that’s just his screen name.”

“Oh.” Kath cocked her head at her. “I thought you said he was a yo-”

Jen coughed again, louder and more insistent, and I could feel my face turning red. “I see,” Kath said, examining me as if she were looking for something. Looking closely at my hands and arms.

I clenched my fists, and tried to think of a polite way to put this. “Can you help me, or not?”

“That depends,” she said, “on what you want to be helped with.”

“I want this to stop.” My eyes were drawn to the jewel on the nightstand again. “I want these feelings to go away, so I can get back to my life without worrying about … bumping into things with nonexistent body parts.” My face was still red. “Can you help me with that?”

“Absolutely.” Kath nodded.

“You can?” I stared at her. After getting talked at by Jen on the ride here, I’d thought I was going to get a hard sell on converting to yokaiism.

“Yep.” She sat down at her laptop, and typed in a URL. “I just want to make sure that you know what you’re dealing with, first.”

I sideyed Jen, as she sat down on a bed piled with more clothes. Then I looked back at the screen. It was a website for an Android app, and there was a big QR code — like a blocky bar code — to the side of the page. “You’ve got a smartphone, right?” Kath looked up.

“Yeah, one sec … ” I raised one of my arms, stepping around awkwardly to keep my wing from brushing the wall, and carefully got out my phone from its case. Then I brought up the barcode reader and scanned her laptop’s screen, and my phone asked me if I wanted to install the app. I tapped “Okay.”

“What is this?” I asked.

“An augmented reality app. It layers a visual overlay onto your phone’s camera view, so you can see things that you otherwise couldn’t.”

“Like what?” I watched the progress bar as it installed.

“Try it and find out.”

I started the app, holding my phone towards the wall in both hands. It was dark there, so I turned towards Jen where she sat on the bed. Then I stared.

She was looking up at me, bemused, but that’s not what I was staring at. I could see my wings — huge brown and tan primary feathers, protruding out from my arms. One of my fingers got in front of the screen, and I could see a bird’s scaly, taloned digit. (The jewel on the nightstand looked normal, though … I checked.)

“How is this possible?” I asked, waving one hand in front of the lens. My hand felt the same as I clenched it, and wiggled my fingers around. But it looked like a hawk’s foot, shaped like a hand.

“It isn’t,” Kath said.

“What do you-” I jumped back, dropping my phone. I’d turned to look through it at her, and had seen a white fox’s face, and three fluffy tails right behind her.

I stared at her, pressed back up against the door, as Jen reached down and picked up my phone. “That wasn’t because of the app,” Kath said, calmly, as though she’d expected my reaction. “You can already see people’s real selves. You just needed an excuse to try.”

My heart pounded, and I could feel sweat form on my fists as I kept them held out in front of me. “But you didn’t even tell me that that’s what it’s for,” I argued. “How was I supposed to know?”

“You knew.”

Jen was holding my phone out to me. I took it, carefully, and looked through it at Kath again. Her fox-form seemed blurred and out of focus now, and it hurt my eyes to look at it. I turned the phone off.

“Okay … ” I took a deep breath, trying to make the words come out right. Fighting down panic, and fidgeting with the phone in my hands to distract myself. “This is not what I came here for. I don’t want a lesson in yokaiism or what I’m ‘supposed’ to be. I just want to go back to being myself.”

Kath was unperturbed. “This is yourself.”

“I’m leaving now.” I reached for the door, feeling my feathers rustle as I did so.

“No, Arrow, wait … ” Jen stood up, and put her hand on my wrist. “She’s right, one way or another. Even if this is just your brain playing tricks on you, then that’s still a part of yourself.”

I looked at her, trying to control my breathing, and wondered if she could see just how scared I was.

“You know they’d just put you on drugs at the hospital, even if you could afford to be treated. So let’s see what Kath has to say, alright? Why don’t you sit down and tell her how this all started.”

I let Jen guide me to where she’d been sitting, on the bed next to the heater, careful not to bump my feathers against things. Then, slowly, I let out my breath and let my arms rest at my sides, feeling my wings touch the bed. Jen stepped over them, and came to sit down a few feet away.

I looked up at Kath. Just for a moment, I could see the fox muzzle that I’d seen through my phone. Then I saw her face, expectant and nonjudgmental. Waiting for me to begin.

I looked away and closed my eyes, trying to think how to start. “I’m not sure if you know what I do for a living … ”

“I don’t.”

“I give tours on an historic submarine. An old naval vessel.”

“Uh-huh.”

“The sailors who lived there … it wasn’t like Star Trek or something. It wasn’t even like today’s subs. They were crammed in with barely enough room to move. There’s a reason that we can’t give tours to handicapped or overweight people. The corridor’s only a couple feet wide, and just getting in and out of the bunks, or the tables in the ship’s mess … it takes some doing.”

“Are you claustrophobic?” I heard her ask.

“I wasn’t before this … ”

“What happened?”

I swallowed, tensing up as I remembered. “I was giving a tour … ”

“Uh-huh.”

“I was in front of everyone else. A whole tour group … like a homeschool group or something. Kids and younger teens. They weren’t playing on the equipment or anything, but they were asking a ton of questions.”

“Like what?”

“Like … how the equipment worked, and stuff. I don’t remember. It was getting harder and harder to think.”

I couldn’t hear her say anything, so I just went on. “It started with this itching, all over my forearms. I couldn’t stop scratching. I was getting embarrassed; I mean, I was wearing short sleeves and all. Then I felt them.”

“Your wings?”

“Yes.” My heart pounded harder as I said that. Up to that point, I hadn’t wanted to acknowledge that that’s what they were.

I went on, starting to shake and to sweat. “I could feel them pressed against things, crammed up against the walls. I couldn’t reach out and demonstrate stuff anymore. I couldn’t … I could barely move.” I was losing control of my breathing, and had to take a couple of deep breaths. “I had to get out of there. I couldn’t explain why, I just needed to. The whole tour group had to go back outside and make way for me. And the kids made rude jokes about what they thought I needed to do, but I didn’t go to the bathroom; I didn’t even head for my car. I walked.”

“You walked off the park grounds?”

“Yes. I didn’t even explain to the manager. I couldn’t, I was messed up so bad. I was scared, I didn’t know what was happening to me … I mean … okay, I knew. Okay? I knew what was going on, but I was scared. I was scared that it’d keep going, and I was scared that I wouldn’t be able to stop it.”

“I had to give him a ride back to the dorms,” Jen said. “He called me when he was halfway there.”

As long as I was spilling my guts in front of them anyway, I decided to just keep going. Opening my eyes now, and fidgeting more with my phone. “It was knowing that made it so terrifying. If my legs had just given out all of a sudden, I wouldn’t have been afraid; not at first. I would’ve been upset, and confused, and then heartbroken when I realized I’d have to adjust. But this … ” I moved my hands to gesture at myself, and could feel my wings as I did so. “This is what I … what I’ve … ”

“What you’ve always wanted?” Kath asked.

“Yes, and I know it makes no sense for me to be so upset like this. Okay?” I fought back a shiver, as I saw her tails swish in my peripheral vision. “I’ve been a furry for years now. And awhile back I was on a huge reading kick about yokai … wondering what it’d be like, and stuff. Reading people’s stories.”

“Did you know what species you were?”

“Nnn … ” I gritted my teeth. Then I sighed, slumping my shoulders. “I knew what species I wanted to be. What caught my attention the most. I made my fursona a red-tailed hawk … ” I started sweating again, as I said it. It felt like the words were sacred.

“And?”

“And that’s it. I never ‘came out;’ I never posted on any yokai boards or anything. I just went back to being a furry.”

“How come?”

A chime sounded on Kath’s laptop. She walked over and closed the lid, and I looked away so that I wouldn’t see her; her fox muzzle, and her tails. I swallowed, waiting for her to go back to her chair, and went on. “Well, partly because of how silly it was. They never prove anything, I mean; it’s just like a religion that way. And besides that, they’re always some cool, awe-inspiring species, like raptors or dragons or something. How come there aren’t any cockroach or warthog yokai?”

“Maybe the kinds of people who are born with those spirits aren’t given to introspection,” Kath offered.

“Yeah, see?” I held up my wing. “That’s a ‘faithful’ answer. That doesn’t answer my question.”

Kath ignored that. “You said that was only part of the reason. What was the rest of it?”

I looked down at the floor, as my face turned red. “Because I felt like I didn’t deserve it.”

“Oh?”

I was turning the phone over and over in my hands. “I’ve been up close, next to an injured red-tailed hawk, before. They’re not … they’re huge,” I blurted out, talking until my brain caught up. “They’re like two feet tall, and they look so streamlined and perfect. They can fly, for goodness’ sake! I see them soaring overhead, and it’s like I remember what it was like. And I want to join them, so bad.”

“So because it meant so much to you, that’s why you had so much trouble accepting yourself as one.”

“Yeah, I-” I paused. I felt my skin crawl, as sweat broke out all across it. She hadn’t talked about turning into a hawk, she’d talked about accepting that I already was one.

“I don’t know,” I made myself say, my voice shaky.

“So what do you want to do?” Jen asked.

And I knew the answer, of course. I knew what I’d dreamed and fantasized about. I just wasn’t ready for this. I couldn’t; not with my job, not with the classes I needed to take. Not with my life the way that it was. But more than that, it was scary because I didn’t know what would happen. I didn’t know what I’d become, or what it would feel like. I just knew that I wouldn’t be able to go back.

A change like this sounds wonderful when you dream about it. But when you have to face it, it’s terrifying.

I took a deep breath, then another. Trying to calm my nerves, and to think of a reasonable course of action. “I … I want-”

The power went out.

The heater shut down, and stopped blowing hot air behind me. The only light in the room came from the curtains, filtered through shade trees outside, and the soft glow of Kath’s sleep-mode laptop. She sighed, and I saw her outline facepalm.

“A brownout?” Jen asked.

“Looks like it,” Kath deadpanned.

I squirmed. “I should go … ”

I heard a puff like a furnace starting, and saw a flickering glow. Kath was holding out one hand, with a … cigarette lighter? … in it, but I only saw the flame, as though it was dancing on her fingertips. And as she talked, I saw the outline of a thin, vulpine muzzle, and saw hints of movement in the air behind her. Where her three tails were swishing.

“Listen.” My heart pounded, as I strained to hear what she was saying. “Your ‘problem’ is not going to just go away. I tried, when I was younger. But something always reminded me, and I fought and fought until I broke down, and realized I couldn’t anymore. Not and still be myself. I’ve seen people who’ve put this behind them, but they had to become someone totally different, so you’re going to change one way or another. It’s your choice what form that takes.”

“Okay … ” I was shivering, and not from the cold. My gaze was fixed on the twitching outlines of her tails, because I couldn’t look up at her face.

“Maybe you don’t have to change all the way right now. Maybe there’s a way you can live with yourself and still be this self. But whatever it is, you’re not doing it right now, because if you were this wouldn’t have happened.”

“So you think I should-” I stopped, as Kath got up. She walked right in front of me, to open the door, and as she did her tails smacked me in the face. I saw them, and felt them, and I jumped in my seat and tried to brush the fur out of my face.

When I looked up, and saw her in the light from outside, she just looked like a normal woman. “I don’t know what you should do,” she said, putting one hand on her hip. “But my guess? You’re a bird of prey, and your instincts triggered when you were locked in a submarine. Maybe that’s not natural for you.

“Maybe you need to fly.”

scratch scratch scratch

Knees pressed into the carpet, elbows up on her bed. Scraggly fluff under the tops of her feet. Darkness playing across her eyelids.

“Um, God … ”

scratch scratch scratch

The rushing sound of the central air conditioning. The buzzing whirr of her notebook’s fan, on the desk behind her.

“I don’t know if this means anything to you … ”

scratch scratch scratch

” … but I’m pretty sure that I’m going to die … ”

A ping, from the notebook behind her. Somebody else had just logged in.

“You saw what happened … ” She swallowed, and fought to hold back the tears. “You heard what he said.”

scratch scratch scratch

“I don’t want to be like this anymore … ”

The microwave dinged and a chair scraped the floor, somewhere downstairs.

“Please, God! I don’t want to be like this anymore!” Tears ran down her cheeks.

scratch scratch scratch

“I want … I want … ”

scratch scratch scratch

The scratchy tag on the back of her shirt. The scratchy wool on the top of her bed. The scratchy scratchy scratching on the scratchy-

“Go away!”

A frightened yip, and then four feet pounded the floor, running away from the door to her room. But she wasn’t paying attention. All of the hairs on her body had stood up and fluffed themselves out, and she was fighting them back into place. She finally collapsed, drenched in sweat, leaning up against the bedframe and gasping for breath.

Footsteps outside. A knock at the door, and a muffled female voice. “Any reason why you just yelled at my brother?”

She couldn’t say anything.

The door opened, and in walked a light-skinned woman in pale blue jeans and a red t-shirt, carrying a plate of steamed vegetables. She stopped when she saw her. “Carol, are you alright?”

Carol shuddered. “I’m going to die, Liz … ”

‘Liz’ set the plate down on the desk next to Carol’s notebook, and sat on the carpet next to her. The wood squeaked, underneath, and the central air turned off.

They were silent for a few moments, Carol regaining her breath and Liz watching her intently, before Liz spoke. “It’s about what he said today, isn’t it. The teacher at your criminal justice class.”

She sniffled. “Yeah.”

“Carol, you shouldn’t feel bad about yourself.” She started to reach out a hand to her, then thought better of it. “He wasn’t talking about you. He was talking about-”

“People like your brother?”

They both glanced towards the door. They could just barely hear him out in the hallway, scratching his neck with his hind legs. “Well, yeah … ” Liz lowered her voice and cupped one hand to the side of her mouth. “But it’s not like he could get married anyway. You know that.”

Carol looked up at her. “But I could?”

“Of course! You’re not-”

“Like him?”

Canine panting and breathing, out in the hallway. Liz glanced in that direction. “Well … yeah.”

“Wrong.”

“Listen-”

“No. You listen.” Carol’s voice was shaking. She glared up at Liz for a second, before looking back down at the floor. “People act like Animal Syndrome and Wereism are two separate things. I thought they were separate things. I wanted to think I was normal. But I’m not.”

Liz sighed the sigh of a person who’s had to deal with this before. “You’re also not walking on all fours.”

“But I want to.”

She raised one eyebrow. “You really mean that?”

Carol winced. “I mean deep down! Deeper than wanting to go to college, deeper than wanting to be a normal human being. I look at him and I don’t think ‘Oh, the poor thing’ or ‘Ha ha, what a cute dog.’ I think … I think pictures, and feelings, and sounds, that translate to ‘Canine, male, juvenile. Smaller than me. No threat.’ And then I want to smell him.”

Liz laughed.

“I’m serious!” Carol looked up at her, frightened and pleading, and the laughter stopped.

Out in the hallway, claws clicked as her brother sat down.

“What are you afraid is going to happen?”

Carol clenched and unclenched her fists, still leaning up against her bedframe and looking away from Liz. “I’m afraid I’m going to lose my soul.”

“What?”

More claws clicking, out in the hallway, and a short canine whimper. Carol turned to look to the doorway and stared out through it, blankly, as she spoke in a monotone. “You heard what they said. Only humans were made in Imago Dei. Animals weren’t. They don’t have souls. That’s why men are supposed to subdue and dominate them. And that’s why it’s okay to brutalize weres who resist arrest. Never mind that they’re scared and don’t know what’s going on. Never mind that they’ve forgotten how to talk like a human being. They aren’t real people anymore, so it’s okay to do whatever you want to them. We’d better stop them from breeding, so there aren’t any more freaks like them ever.”

A pause. Liz coughed. “You’re afraid that you’re going to turn into a were, and you’re going to be disoriented enough that somebody like our teacher is going to beat you up?”

“No. I’m afraid that I’m going to lose my soul.”

“But you said you were like my brother, deep down. So wouldn’t that mean that you’ve already lost it?”

“I don’t know.” Carol looked up at the ceiling, and closed her eyes.

Liz fidgeted, and glanced over at her steamed vegetables. “Carol, you never had this much trouble with it when we were growing up … ”

“It wasn’t as hard then.” She spoke with her eyes closed. “Now there’s all this pressure on me to be a human being, the same kind of human as everyone else. And every day I feel more like an animal, who doesn’t understand why they’re asking her to do all these tricks. And just wants to hide somewhere and be safe.”

Nobody talked for a few moments. The room was silent except for her notebook’s fan.

“I’ve started to P-shift,” Carol remarked.

Liz jumped to her feet. “Right now?”

“No, a few minutes ago. Second time today. And again last week.” Carol opened her eyes partway, and stared half-lidded up at the ceiling for a moment, before closing them again and letting out her breath. “It’s exhausting.”

“Carol, we’ve got to get you to a hospital.”

“I’m not going there … ” She still had her eyes closed.

“I mean it. If you’re changing then we have to-”

“I’m not going to be institutionalized.”

Liz groaned and looked skyward. “How else are you going to get the help that you need?”

“The help … that I need … ” She grunted, and struggled to sit upright. Liz came over and helped her. ” … is not to be drugged up and locked away. If anything, that’ll stress me out so much that changing will be inevitable. Then I’ll be locked up, muzzled, restrained … kept there as long as they can keep me, and thrown on the street once my insurance runs out.” She glared at the wall.

“Carol … ” Liz knelt next to her now. “Prescription pharmaceuticals can help people. That’s what they’re made for. You can take drugs that’ll keep you from changing. But you can’t get a prescription without going in there for an evaluation.”

Carol clawed the carpet with both hands, digging deep with her nails, and spoke through her teeth. “How come I have to get drugged up to keep me from changing, and they can’t just hire someone who isn’t a stupid evil hateful bigot?”

She shook and held her breath, as though fighting something back, and Liz broke out in a sweat. Then Carol stopped, and started gasping for breath again. “And that’s three,” she managed.

She sat there for a minute or two, her breathing fast but gradually slowing and becoming more stable. Liz stayed there beside her, listening. Finally, Carol crawled up onto her bed by herself, rejecting Liz’ offer of help, and lay down and closed her eyes.

“You should take some time off from classes,” Liz finally said.

“I will.”

“And you should pray.” Liz stood up. “I still think you should get professional help. But whether you do or not, you need God’s help on this.”

“Will God help a soulless animal?”

She remained still, breathing regularly with her eyes closed. Liz watched her a few moments, before taking her plate, turning the light out and walking out, leaving the door open. “Good night, Carol.”

“‘Night.”

All was quiet. The notebook’s screen faded to black, up on the desk.

Then claws clicked out in the hallway, and into the room walked a fluffy orange collie, without a trace of human features. It looked up at Carol and whimpered, and she said nothing in response.

Finally it sat down, head pressed low to the carpet, eyes flicking upward to glance worriedly at her until it, too, fell asleep.

* * *

The week passed slowly. Carol spent the time reading and writing online, in the upstairs room of her friend’s house. She stayed up late, slept in late, and had headphones on 24/7. The homework piled up, but she didn’t care. She didn’t have enough energy to care.

Every day the orange collie trotted into her room, and gave her a worried look before sitting down on the carpet beside her. She stepped over it coming in and out of her room. Aside from that, she paid it no attention.

Carol slept in late the day that she had to return to her classes. She didn’t have classes until that afternoon, so she was only a little late getting there, after waking up and eating lunch and getting herself ready. Liz had already left by then, and they promised to meet up after class.

The halls of the Southern college she went to were quiet, and nearly deserted since everyone was already in class. She stopped outside the door to her criminal justice class, next to the bulletin board with posters up for mission trips and Bible study times, and took a moment to compose herself. It’s not going to be long, she told herself, fists and eyes squeezed shut. Just a few hours, and then you can go back home and do whatever you want. It won’t be so bad, and you’ll have time to recover afterwards.

You can do this.

Taking a deep breath, she pushed the door open and walked inside, going behind all the rows of seats lined up and over to an unused desk. She sat down quietly, ignoring the squeak in her chair, and tried to be as small as possible as she got out her notebook and pencil from her backpack.

It wasn’t until after she’d done so, and started thinking about what to draw during class, that a couple of things occurred to her.

One, the teacher had stopped in midsentence a moment after she’d stepped inside.

Two, everyone in the room was watching her.

Not “a few people had turned their heads to look at the person who’d just sat down.” Everyone in the room was watching her.

Lowering her head nervously, starting to sweat, she glanced around the room and caught the following up on the whiteboard:

WEREISM, CRIMINOLOGY, AND THE BIBLE

WHAT?
- mental / physical disorder
- epidemic -- 1 in 150
- early childhood
- mind/body turned into animal partway / fully
- loss of humanity

HOW?
- animal bites?
- genetic disease?
- demonic possession? Mark 5:1-13!

WHY?
- fallen / sinful natures
- last days -- 2 Tim 3:1
- final judgment / THE BEAST!!

WHAT IS SOCIETY TO DO?
- stoning? drowning? (God's law / man's law)
- sterilization (possession + genes)
- incarceration / institutionalization

WHAT ARE CHRISTIANS TO DO?
- insanity plea? maximum sentencing
- prayer cover
- rebuke / cast out!!

She read the whole thing, cheeks burning red and sweat pouring down her sides. I am going to die.

“Brethren and sisters … ”

All eyes, including Carol’s, looked up at the teacher — tall, bald, and commanding.

“I sense an evil spirit in our midst.”

It barely even registered. The world was nothing but heat and despair and humiliation, so overwhelming that Carol began to feel disembodied. This isn’t happening. I’m not really here. This is just my imagination.

“A spirit that has taken over the body and mind of one of God’s sweet children … ”

I should never have spoken up in that class. They knew. They could tell. It was so obvious.

” … and held her in bondage since she was a little child.”

I’m going to die. I’m going to die. I’m going to die. I’m going to die.

“And I say to that evil spirit … ”

I’m going to die.

He stretched out his hand. “Begone.”

For several long seconds, Carol couldn’t make herself move or do anything if she’d wanted to. Then she felt the burning on her skin turn to intense itching, and spread into her organs, her feet, her face. And she realized what was happening to her and jumped out of her seat, taking off running for the door to the hallway.

“In Jesus’ name, begone!”

She jumped as she heard that, right as she opened the door, and fell out into the hallway sprawling and kicking and clutching her sides and crying noiselessly. She barely caught sight of another girl carrying textbooks, and she registered the feel of her legs making contact with something as she writhed and struggled and changed. It hit the floor right next to her, but she didn’t care. She couldn’t.

I’m dying I’m dying I’m dying I’m dying I’m dying …

I’m dead. She shuddered, and took in a gasping breath through her wet muzzle, as tears streaked down her fur through closed eyes. I’m dead.

Laurel is slumped into the chair in her Sunday dress, with a shell-shocked look on her face. Beside her, her stepmom is red-faced, her cheeks puffy from crying. She has her arms folded and is looking straight ahead, glaring at the door to the bishop’s office. Other churchgoers walk past in front of them, ignoring them but knowing why they’re there.

The next day, Laurel’s high school Seminary teacher tells her class about how anthros, gays, and transgender people are sick, and they do sick things to each other. They only want to live their lifestyles openly so that they can shock people, and they only want to get “married” so they can have tax writeoffs. That’s why they pushed their agenda, to get the definitions of marriage and personhood changed in California, and it’s up to the members of God’s true church to stand up for what’s right. It’s up to the Latter-Day Saints to fight back.

Laurel barely makes it through the class period, then throws up in the bathroom outside. Someone comes in as she’s retching, and just as quickly backs out.

Laurel’s knees are shaking as she straddles the toilet seat, trying to catch her breath. She’s pleading with God in her head, begging him to make her whole. Begging him to take these wrong feelings away from her.

All of them.

* * *

“What does ‘endure to the end’ mean?”

I was sitting across from the nonmember girl, Sam, in the big wooden dining hall down by the lake at Girls’ Camp. It was my last year there as a camper, before I graduated from Young Women, and my new friendship with her was the one thing keeping me going this year. We had the table to ourselves, because no one else wanted to sit with us … or with me, anyway.

The double doors were open at both ends. Outside, the trees cast shadows across the pine needle-covered path. Flies buzzed around my second bowl of cereal, and I swatted them away before looking up at Sam, not sure I’d heard her right over the background commotion. “Huh?”

“Endure to the end,” Sam repeated, brushing her hair from in front of her glasses. “That thing you said people needed to do, when you were … ” She searched for the words, for a moment. “ … bearing your testimony, last night.”

I held one hand up, as I drank the rest of the milk in my bowl slowly. Trying to think how to put this. “It’s just that,” I finally said, setting my bowl back down. “We endure Satan’s temptations until the last day, when Jesus will come and bind him.”

“It sounds hard,” she said, while using fork and knife to cut sausage links.

I groaned. “You have no idea.”

“Perhaps I don’t. What does he tempt you to do?” Sam asked, dipping a piece of sausage in maple syrup and eating it.

“Well, you know that Heavenly Father wants us to be together in our eternal families,” I explained, “after we get sealed together in the temple. So Satan tries to make us unworthy to be in our eternal families, and he tries to keep us from starting families to begin with.”

“Ah,” she said. “So he was behind Proposition 8?”

I choked. “Er, what?”

“California’s Proposition 8,” she repeated. “Besides declaring anthros non-persons, it kept same-gender couples from starting families in that state, as well as invalidating opposite-gender marriages where one of the partners was trans. Was that Satan’s work?”

I stared at her for a long moment, trying to tell whether or not she was being facetious. “Um, no … ” I said. “That was God’s work.”

“I see,” she said, slowly.

“Transgenderism and transspeciesism are unnatural,” I hastily went on. “And what gays and lesbians are doing isn’t ‘starting families,’ it’s going contrary to God’s commandments.”

“Which of God’s commandments?” Sam had stopped eating, and was watching me now.

I squirmed. “That a man and a woman are supposed to get married, and start a family together.”

“What if I don’t want to marry a man?” Sam asked.

But then Sister Powers started shouting over the din, and presenting the day’s announcements. I folded my arms and listened to her, trying to think of what I would say when I next got the chance.

* * *

You’ll have to forgive me for being an idiot. Because it wasn’t until later that day that I realized what she had meant.

I guess I’d better confess, here, before going on … I have same-gender attraction too. I don’t just have same-gender attraction, though, I’m attracted to males also. And please don’t think it’s my fault. I had enough trouble convincing my old bishop of that, even after I showed him God Loveth His Children, that new pamphlet put out by the Brethren.

I didn’t choose to have SSA, or any of these other weird problems I have … the ones that made me squeamish inside, when she started talking about anthros and transgenderism. And while I’ve made some wrong choices because of them, it’s not too late for me. I’m not like those people; I’m not living their lifestyle, and I’ve never been transformed by anyone. I just have to repent for dwelling on these wrong things so much, and let God heal me of my sinful desires.

But you’re probably confused about what’s going on. So let me back up a bit.

*takes a deep breath*

This all started when I let my mom pick out my clothes. See, the problem is that my mom’s a nonmember — an apostate, actually — and she doesn’t believe in the Church’s standards of modesty anymore. So when I told her I left my suitcase at my dad and stepmom’s house, and didn’t have anything to wear to Girls’ Camp this year, she went out shopping and came home with all of these sleeveless tops and short shorts.

I tried to tell her I didn’t believe in wearing stuff like that. That it wasn’t just going to be girls there; that there’d be adult Priesthood holders to supervise, and they didn’t need to be tempted like that. She gave me this look like I was an idiot, and started in on a feminist lecture about equal rights and stuff, so I finally had to just beg her not to make me wear those because the other girls would shun me for it.

She said no, she wasn’t going back out to the store. And sure enough, my tentmate Katelynn (we’ve got two-person tents this year instead of cabins) just comes here in between activities to get things from the bags under her cot, then walks back out off the wooden platform the tent’s on without saying a word to me. No one’s approached me or said hi to me or anything, and Sister Powers, our Young Women’s leader, gave me this long guilt trip speech where she told me to think about how the Savior felt about what I was wearing.

I didn’t tell her that sounded like a really bad way of putting it.

She told me I wasn’t allowed to be one of the youth leaders this year, because I was setting a bad example with my worldly and immodest fashions … and I guess I can’t blame her for that. I just really wished someone would talk to me, which is why I was surprised to see that they were all talking to someone else who was dressed just like me.

You guessed it. Samantha.

I hope it’s not a sin for me to say this, but Sam is really cute, and I don’t just mean because of her outfit. It’s because she wears glasses (I’ve always had a thing for girls with glasses), and because she just seems so naive. She was asking such honest questions about the Church and Utah culture in general, and I could hear the other girls laughing as they explained things to her.

Meanwhile, I was trying not to think about her too much. And I was writing sappy, embarrassing stuff in my journal, about how I was struggling with these wrong feelings and wished that I didn’t have them. So of course, when she came up and said hi to me, I closed it up really fast and looked up at her, startled and red-faced.

“You’re Laurel, right?” she asked.

“Uh, yeah … ” I was trying to talk to her without letting myself look at her, and blushing as I did so. Oh my heck, I thought, she is so cute. But I pushed that away and asked “Uh, and you are?” I’d heard her name already, but I didn’t want her to know I’d been eavesdropping.

“Sam,” she said. “Why aren’t you out here? Are you not feeling well?”

“Uh, no, I just … ” I just couldn’t face being a social pariah, because of my apostate mom and the rumors about me and the fact that I was wearing immodest clothing. But how could I explain all this to a nonmember girl, in a way that she’d understand? And wouldn’t be insulted by, I thought. “I’d just … rather stay in here, is all.” I coughed. It was true, technically.

“Is it okay if I come in and sit down?”

I hesitated a second, then nodded, and she came in and sat down beside me. Like, right beside me, on the cot. Almost touching me. I scooted away from her immediately, and tried to make it look like I was being polite and giving her space.

She asked me polite, getting-to-know-you type questions. I don’t remember what they were, because I was too busy trying not to think how her shorts had rode up her legs when she’d sat down. I do remember that when she asked “What do your parents do?” I said

“My mom’s a homemaker. My dad teaches Institute.”

“Ah. What’s Institute?”

“It’s like a … it’s a college-level religion class,” I told her. I was going to say it was like grown-up Seminary, but I guessed she wouldn’t understand that either unless she’d been invited there.

“Oh. So they teach you about different world religions and things?”

“No … just this one.”

“How come?”

“Because … ” I could see her looking at me, a curious expression on her face. She really didn’t know. Another one of those things she was naive about, I guessed, and tried not to think how adorable that made her.

“Um.” I coughed again, trying to break out of that train of thought. “How much do you know about the Church?”

“The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints?” She didn’t call it “the Mormon Church,” she said its full name, like it was honestly how she thought of it.

“Yes,” I said. “The Church.”

“I know it’s headquartered here in Utah … ” Sam looked up at the roof of my tent, like she was trying to remember the facts for a quiz. I wondered how much she’d learned just today.

“It’s got over thirteen million members worldwide,” she said, “most of them inactive. It teaches its members to give ten percent of their income to the church without question. Some of this money goes to build temples, which are like meetinghouses but are only for worthy church members. The rites performed in temples are done to seal families together for time and for all eternity.”

“Um … yes, very good!” I was embarrassed. I felt unprepared to deal with this new investigator, who knew a lot about the Church already and was learning fast. And she already knew about tithing and inactives … I didn’t know if she thought those were good or bad. How was I supposed to teach her if I didn’t know what she was ready to hear? What if I said something she wasn’t ready for?

I said a quick, silent prayer, that I’d know what to say. “Do you know why we can seal families together?” I finally asked.

“You can’t,” she said.

My mind went blank. “A-huh?”

“You can’t,” Sam explained, “because you’re a girl. You can’t hold the Priesthood, so you can’t perform the ordinances.”

“Oh, right, sorry … ” I looked away, red-faced. I hated being reminded of that, I really did. Both my gender, and the fact that I couldn’t hold the Priesthood. “I meant ‘we’ as in ‘the Church’ there, sorry.”

“Oh, okay. Why?” She clasped her hands in her lap.

“Because we … I mean the guys, sorry … they have the Priesthood. It’s the literal power of God, and the authority to act in his name. Only God can seal families together for time and for all eternity, so only the servants of God here on earth can do that for us. That’s why we spend so much time teaching each other and learning about the Church,” I finished. “Because it’s so important that we end up together, as eternal families.”

“Oh,” she said. “You care for your family a lot, don’t you?”

“I … ”

* * *

Laurel’s stepmom blows her nose on a handkerchief, from the seat next to hers, as the bishop opens his door. A boy that she doesn’t recognize hurries out without talking to Laurel, brushing past her in her seat.

Laurel looks up, at the balding man in the white shirt and tie. She swallows. “Hi, dad … ” she says. But the look on his face says that he’s not her dad right now. He’s Bishop Williams.

“Come in,” he says, turning around and heading back to his desk. Laurel gets up and does as he asks, and shuts the door behind her, feeling like she’s sealing herself into her own tomb.

* * *

I sighed. “I don’t know.”

The rest of the conversation was a blur. Samantha could sense my discomfort, and she moved on to something else … something about animals at first, but I got really tense then so she brought up something pop culture-y instead. Movies, I think. We talked about one we’d both seen.

She put her hand on my knee at one point. It felt warm and embarrassing. I didn’t stop her, though. I didn’t know how to politely ask. And I could tell that she wasn’t trying to flirt; she was trying to comfort me. She could tell I was in distress.

I couldn’t help thinking how good it felt that she was touching me like that. But then after Sam left, I got down on my knees where no one could see me and begged Heavenly Father to help me reach her. Begged him to help unworthy me to at least not stand in her way. I knew that I’d probably ruined my own eternal family, but I promised that I wouldn’t ruin hers.

When they had the nightly prayer and testimony meeting, around the fire in our ward’s campsite, I waited for a few other girls to share their thoughts about being at camp before standing up and bearing my testimony.

“I just wanted to say that I know the Church is true,” I said, knees shaking a bit as the campfire warmed me. Making me sweat uncomfortably. “I know that Heavenly Father restored it to the earth through Joseph Smith, and that he gave him the Priesthood keys to seal families together forever.”

I took a quick glance down at Sam. She was sitting there watching me, and actually listening.

I took a deep breath and went on, sounding less like a calm, reassuring Church leader and more like a scared little girl. “I know that we can be together forever, so long as we’re worthy and we obey all the laws and ordinances of the Gospel. And make and keep sacred covenants … and … and endure to the end,” I finished lamely, feeling the onset of stage fright. “In the name of Jesus Christ, amen.”

I sat back down in the back row, the only one there on my bench.

* * *

Anyway, I’m pretty dense to start with, and the butterflies in my stomach from being attracted to Sam (but not wanting to admit it) made me even slower on the uptake. So it wasn’t until I heard her talking ouside my tent, saying she’d never had a boyfriend, that it dawned on me.

Oh. My. Heck.

She had same-gender attraction too! No wonder she’d said that thing about not wanting to marry a man, at breakfast … oh, crud, did that mean she liked me? What if that hand on the knee was flirting?

I felt this weird churn in my stomach, like being flattered and sickened at the same time. It felt right and wrong all at once, and I wanted to dwell on it some more. But I also knew it was the last thing that I ought to think about.

But she’s been talking so much to me and asking me so many questions … I thought. Then I sighed.

I’ve got to tell her, I thought. I have to tell her I can’t talk to her anymore, and explain why. I’ll find someone else to help teach her the Gospel. It’s for her own good … heck, it’s for my own good.

Of course, as it turned out, I wouldn’t get to confess to her until much, much later that night. And I’d end up spilling my guts to her about everything else … literally.

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but you’re really cute as a fox!” Sam admires his fur, in the light of the moon from outside. Then she looks up at his face, and realizes the expression is not one of wonderment. It’s one of shock.

“Joshua … ?” she asks.

There’s no answer. He’s frozen as though in midstride, one hand still inches away from his face where he’d been scratching it. Breathing slowly through his muzzle.

“Joshua, are you okay?”

Sam’s feline tail twitches nervously, and she clasps her hands and fidgets during the long silence. She can smell sweat, and fear, and horrible pain coming from him.

“Uh, look, if this is about the feelings you had during your change … ” She looks away, still fidgeting. “It’s not your fault. A lot of people are sensitive to it like-”

He says something, and she can’t hear him.

“Er, what was that?”

“I SAID GET OUT!” He stands, his eyes burning and tear-stricken, and it looks like he’s about to throw something at her.

Sam jumps to her feet and hurries to the door, sweating and shaken, as he follows right at her heels. When she gets most of the way through the door he slams it on the tip of her tail, and she screams, jumping and losing her glasses. He opens the door just a crack, and her tail twitches out just in time for him to slam it again.

Dogs are barking all over the neighborhood now. A silhouette appears at the window across the street. Terrified and in shock, she reaches down to pick up her glasses and sees that they’re okay, before the pain in her tail catches up to her. Tears come to her eyes as she fights it back, cringing and clenching her teeth.

For a moment she wants to just sit there on the doorstep, cradling her tail and sobbing to herself. But she hears something slump heavily against the door, and a second later she hears Joshua crying. She hurries to her car instead, limping because of her tail and wondering what she did wrong.

* * *

Where had I gone wrong?

Was it looking up transformation stories, with vivid descriptions of changes? I’d hidden that all throughout high school … it’d been my deepest shame and my fondest desire.

How about looking up pics? I hadn’t worked up the courage to do that until I’d almost graduated … they were so shocking. Painful changes, mental changes, change-as-reward and change-as-sadistic-punishment. People being annihilated and replaced by something else, something more attractive, something that deserved to live unlike me-

I convulsed and froze that way, my face twisted in pain, every muscle locked up. It lasted a long few seconds before letting me go, and I gasped for breath and tried to gather my thoughts again. The floor was hard underneath me, and I leaned against the door for support.

Maybe it was when I’d started going to furmeets, I thought, still trying to catch my breath and holding onto the doorknob. I’d told myself there was nothing wrong with it. I’d told myself I was past all of that. But then Sam was there … and she was really a you are too now-

Another convulsion.

By now I was fighting back tears again. I’d almost torn off the doorknob. It wasn’t anything physical … it wasn’t anything to do with my new form or the bands on the fur around my neck and shoulders right now. It was fear, and pain, and awful, awful guilt.

My mind replayed the last few hours for me. Staying up late, letting down my resolve, reading those stories and being filled with such desperate longing again. Remembering that Sam was nocturnal … remembering her invitation. The one she’d extended so innocently, because she hadn’t known. She hadn’t known what I believed, what my family believed, what we’d been taught at church twice a week. She hadn’t known the Truth.

But I had, and I’d been so horrified when I realized what I wanted to do. I’d wanted to just turn my brain off. I’d wanted to forget. I’d turned off my computer, gotten up from my chair and started pacing my room miserably. But nothing distracted me from what I wanted so badly to do. So I called her, and nervously took her up on her offer. I made sure to let her know that this wasn’t a date, and the door had to be open at all times so we wouldn’t be alone together.

After that horribly awkward conversation, my mind cleared a little. I thought to myself Okay, self, you’ve bought twenty minutes to think about it. And when she gets here, you can just apologize to her and ask her to leave; maybe even tell her why, and invite her to come to church with you or something. Something good can still come out of this. And I paced, and sweated, and calmed myself down as well as I could, and imagined exactly how the conversation would go.

But then I heard her knock at the door, and it’s like my mind went all aslkjdf- And all I could think about were those stories, and how badly I wanted it, and this voice in the back of my head was saying Just once! Just for tonight! Just to see what it feels like! Please!

And I couldn’t say no.

So after she knocked a second time, it’s like I went down there on autopilot. Then I sold my soul for a minute of pleasure, and this horrible dustmop thing behind that’s my tail

I almost clawed my eyes out with that spasm.

I lay there on the floor gasping, looking up at the ceiling, hurting from where my foot had struck the stairs but too exhausted to move it.

Finally I dragged myself to my feet and limped up to my bedroom, whimpering with each step and trying to forget what I’d done. Imagining that I had a skin disease, or was wearing a tight, fuzzy coat.

It didn’t work. I cried myself to sleep, thinking of what my parents would say if they knew. Remembering all of the good times with them, and all of the family lessons, and knowing I’d betrayed their trust. My favorite hymns mocked me as I drifted off.

* * *

I dreamed I was seventeen again.

I was sitting on a hard, metal folding chair, in the gymnasium of the church that my family went to. I was surrounded by dozens of kids and a handful of adults. We were listening to the elderly preacher they’d invited to speak to the youth go on about the evils of our day and age … immodesty, homosexuality, disobedience to parents. When he mentioned Internet pornography I shrank in my seat, and realized how disgusting it was to imagine bodies changing like in the stories I read. I nodded, quickly, at everything that he said, beating myself up inside and silently begging God to help me overcome this evil.

“Isn’t this a crazy, mixed-up world we live in?” he asked, his leathery face wrinkling with a sardonic smile. “Where a man thinks he can marry another man … ”

He paused to let everyone chuckle.

” … and where animals think they should be treated like human beings.”

I froze.

“The scriptures say God gave man dominion over all lesser beasts,” he went on. “That means animals, whether they walk on four legs or two!”

Someone called out “Amen!” Meanwhile, I could feel sweat begin to pour down my sides. I was aware now that I was dreaming, I was aware that I was feeling this inside my dream because I was sweating in real life, and I wasn’t letting myself wake up yet because I had to listen to how wrong I was.

“God will not curse you with temptations that you can’t handle,” he went on, stalking the room and pointing out at us. “Not if you pray and submit yourself to Him. So if a woman becomes a cat, a cat that walks on two legs, it’s her own fault!”

“Amen!” more people shouted.

“And if that cat helps a boy become a fox, it’s his fault!” He stabbed his finger at me, and I looked down and started crying. “He has forfeited his rights and blessings as a human being, and has taken his place beneath man!”

“Amen!”

“And since animals don’t have souls,” he growled, “it means he has given his to the Devil, to be tormented by the flames of Hell for all of eternity.”

The crowd and the preacher drifted away, their response muted and faint, as the chair I was in was surrounded by darkness. Hot, firey darkness, and I could hear roaring flames as they began to lick at my-

* * *

I woke up covered in sweat, tangled in bedsheets and scratching myself furiously. I itched all over, and as I fought and squirmed and nearly fell out of bed I could feel my tail and my muzzle growing back out. I must have changed to a human while I was asleep, and now something was causing me to change back.

No! I thought. Stop! I want to go back to being a human! But the itching continued, and I threw off the bedsheets and tore off my shirt, sitting up and scratching hard all over. It didn’t feel good at all, unlike the first time. I was even starting to get nauseous.

Finally I looked up, at the light coming in through the curtains and at the digital clock on my desk. It was almost 11. The space heater was on and the door was closed, and it was sweltering in my room.

I reached over and turned it off, then flopped back on top of my bed, groaning. Rubbing my eyes, and stopping when I felt pawpads. Then I lifted my hands from my face, looked at them for a long moment, and let them fall to either side of me, letting out my breath.

My body felt limp and lifeless. But my soul felt even worse, because I knew that I’d given it up to the Devil — traded it for empty pleasures, a form that would probably last for the rest of my life, and the knowledge that I had sinned against God and His image. And while God was forgiving to those who submitted to Him, there was no forgiveness for soulless animals.

I had no energy left. Not even enough to move. I just looked up at the ceiling and sighed, closing my eyes.

“Damn me,” I whispered. “God damn me to Hell.”

But he didn’t have to, I thought, because I’d already done it myself.

* * *

I don’t know how long I stood in front of the mirror.

I hadn’t bothered to put my shirt back on yet. It was a shock to see myself as an anthro, to the point where I had to pretend that it wasn’t me that I was looking at. The “fox” who looked back at me wasn’t miraculously fit, like in most of the drawings … he was in the same physical condition that I’d always been in. He even still had a bit of a stomach. Somehow, I’d always imagined that I would’ve gotten in shape before doing this.

His fur looked ragged, his face looked lifeless, and his shoulders sagged with the same weariness that I felt. I looked his red and white pelt up and down, too tired to feel any disgust. And when I finally reached my arm out and turned the light off, and saw a dim blue glow around his shoulders and neck, I sighed. Because it meant that I’d probably be looking at this fox in the mirror for the rest of my life.

“However long that is.” My voice cracked.

I swallowed to moisten the inside of my muzzle, and shuffled on out of the bathroom.

I pulled my shirt back on as I stepped off the stairs, and walked into the living and dining area, sunlight streaming in through the curtains. The opened boxes, unplugged electronics, and dishes still wrapped up in packing paper all seemed unearthly somehow. It felt like the place had been frozen in time, like I was stepping into a crime scene.

I’d been going to finish unpacking this morning, before registering for classes online. Somehow that seemed far away now.

Something felt off, but I wasn’t sure what until I slumped onto the couch and sat there still for a moment. Then I realized I could hear everything; the whirr of the refrigerator, the ticking of the clock, the buzz of the electronics in the kitchen behind me. The sunbeams coming in through the windows seemed brighter than usual, and I could feel my clothes on my fur, itchy and uncomfortably tight.

Is this why Sam’s usually human? I thought. But then I corrected myself. She’s not human, she’s … she’s …

I winced. I couldn’t do that to her.

I’m an animal, I thought, sinking back further into the couch. And it doesn’t matter if I can make myself look like a human. I don’t know how. I don’t care to learn how. I don’t care about anything anymore …

My tail was getting squashed painfully. I did care about that. I sat upright and adjusted it, and my mind went blank again for a few seconds. Then it reminded me of what I’d done, and I sighed and put my head in my hands.

An hour later I was still there on the couch, sprawled out along it, staring up at the ceiling and remembering. Imagining. The feel of the changes inside me …

… the shame that I felt inside …

… the first bits of fur poking through my skin …

… knowing I was awful and slimy to the core …

… feeling like this was what I had been made for …

… knowing I’d destroyed myself.

I was a fox, I thought! A red fox! I actually was one, and it was real and I could change back and forth any time that I wanted!

“I am an enemy to God,” I whispered, the corners of my eyes moistening. “I chose to fight against him. I don’t deserve to live, and I deserve to be cast into Hell.”

The memories began to merge. Instead of beautiful change pouring into me through Sam’s arms, I imagined firey, painful death. I imagined it tearing at me, consuming me from inside, liquefying my bones and roasting my internal organs. I imagined screaming as my skin and hair set on fire, and burning to ash as she laughed. Another soul claimed by the Devil.

The only thing worse than imagining that was knowing that it’d really happened. That’s what happened to my soul, I thought, while my body was being changed. I’m just a shambling shell now. That’s why I don’t have any energy left. That’s why it’s okay if I die.

That’s why I have to kill myself.

I stared up at the ceiling again, imagining it and wondering what the best way would be.

* * *

It took me a little while, but I finally figured it out. I didn’t know which cuts I’d have to make, but I thought I could just try them all and see which one did the job.

The trouble was, I’d have to ignore the pain long enough to do so. Worse, I’d have to actually get up and go to the kitchen to get out a knife. And because everything was still packed up, I’d have to dig through the boxes and find which one had them in it, and then find one that was sharp enough.

I wasn’t sure I could even stand up right now, let alone dig through boxes. I felt so drained it was a stretch just to lift up my arm, and squint at my claws. Too dull, I thought. No good. I let my hand drop back to the couch, and sighed.

That’s when the phone rang.

It could be Sam calling to apologize, I thought.

Or to demand an apology, I thought back to myself. To tell me her tail is broken and sue for damages.

Second ring.

Maybe it’s someone else, I thought. Will they still remind me of how worthless I am? Will they help me get the rest of the way there?

Third ring …

I jumped to my feet and ran around the couch to smack into the kitchen wall, and just barely grabbed the phone above me before it rang a fourth time and the answering machine picked it up. My shoulder absorbed the blow, and I slumped down next to the wall and winced before speaking. “Hello?”

“Hey, Josh!” It was a male voice, the voice of one of my friends from high school. It sounded like he was driving. The caller ID just said ” >>> MARK <<< ".

"Hey." I forced a grin.

"Didn’t go to church today?" he asked.

"Uh, no ... " I looked up at the clock. "Too busy ... unpacking. I guess."

"Yeah, don’t worry, we’ll both make it up. I’m still out on the highway," Mark went on. "Got a big moving truck I finally finished loading last night. Still can’t believe they’ve got us in duplexes this year. We’re moving up in the world!"

"Heh, yeah ... " I squirmed, and rubbed at my shoulder to try to make it stop hurting.

"Is something wrong?" Mark asked. "Your voice sounds kinda funny."

"Huh? Uh, no, uh ... " I coughed. "Maybe I’m getting a ... a something ... uh ... are you sure it isn’t your signal?" I broke out in a sweat.

"Yeah, it is noisy out here." He was silent for a long moment, and I could hear the sounds of his driving. He shouldn’t be driving while using a cellphone, I thought, even as I realized I knew what I had to say and tried to think how to put it.

“Listen, Mark, uh … ” I coughed again. “I hate to break it to you, but we’ve got a new roommate,” I sort-of-lied.

“They’re putting five in there?” he asked. “What kind of new roommate?” he went on, before I could stumble over his first question.

“The, uhh … ” I swallowed. “The slightly furry kind, if you get what I’m saying.”

Long, long pause. I burned and itched all over with sweat.

“They’re having us live with an anthro?” Mark asked. “But that’s dangerous! What about disease? What about parasites? What if he turns feral?”

I couldn’t say anything. I’d started to pant through my muzzle, and was slumped up against the wall, sitting down.

“And what about spiritual dangers? I mean, I know the crazy liberals who make the laws don’t give a flying flip, but you know what they do, Josh! This is … ” his signal broke up, ” … a religious college for heaven’s sake! Whatever happened to freedom of religion? Didn’t the Honor Code used to prevent being openly anthro? And now he’s going to be walking around campus that way, shedding in the cafeteria, dating human girls and trying to get them to live his lifestyle!

“This is what we were warned about, Josh. It’s a sign of the times, and it’s already starting. He’s going to try to corrupt us,” he finished, sounding dire and prophetic.

“M-maybe he already has … ” I continued panting, drawing in huge breaths, unable to stop myself.

” … what do you mean by that, Josh?” He sounded suspicious. “And what’s that sound?”

I hung up, then buried my face in my hands and started crying again. It lasted for a long time. The phone rang again, but I ignored it.

I’m doomed, I’m doomed, my whole life is over … It was separate from wanting to kill myself, and felt more real right now than Hell did. This hurt even worse, because it showed me that even if I wanted to go back to my old life, I couldn’t. Not anymore.

The cordless handset rang next to me again, as I huddled there in the fetal position. I wiped tears from my furry, fox face to squint down at the screen. The caller ID read “PETERSON, ANDREW.”

I picked it up, pressed the button and sniffled. “H-hey … ”

“Hey, Josh.” I heard a road map crinkle, and sounds of traffic from nearby, but it didn’t sound like he was driving. “Got lost and stopped at a gas station. The attendant doesn’t speak English well enough to give directions. Can you tell me how to get there?”

“Uh, s-sure … ” I sniffled again.

“Is something wrong?”

“Yeah, uh, no, uh … ” I swallowed. “Where’re you at?”

He told me as well as he could, and I spent the next minute or so giving directions. It took my mind off of what was going on, and helped me to think more clearly.

“Thanks,” he said. “Glad you’re not at church today. I would’ve missed you.”

“Yeah … ”

The phone clicked against his glasses, as he shifted it to the other hand. “Listen, are you sure you’re okay? You don’t sound so good.”

I coughed. “I’m not … ”

“What’s wrong?”

“I, uh … ” I couldn’t say it. ” … I found out we’re getting an anthro roommate,” I finished, lamely.

” … that’s got you upset?”

“A-and Mark, he’s really mad about it … ” I sniffled, again.

“What, do you think he’s going to make you into one of them, or something?”

“I-”

“You know it’s not contagious. You know the changes are only temporary. The only ones who are changed permanently are the ones who have species or gender dysphoria, and they seek them out! So if you don’t want to become an anthro, it’s not going to happen!”

“But-”

Andrew swore. “You know what? I don’t know why I agreed to this. And I am not looking forward to a whole semester with you two. Can you and Mark at least try not to be bigots, for once?”

He hung up, leaving my muzzle hanging open in mid-word.

I slumped back against the wall again, sliding down until my feet touched the couch. My arms hung to either side, limp on the floor, and my hand let the cordless phone roll out of it.

I didn’t know what to do, or say, or think anymore. I felt like everything bad I’d been told about me was true, even if it contradicted itself. I was a bigot, and I was also a disease vector and a dirty, unclean animal. Plus I was going to Hell.

My energy had left me again. I wouldn’t be killing myself anytime soon, unless it was of starvation. Or a neckache, from laying down at this angle. But Andrew and Mark will be here soon, I thought. And I’m sure one of them will be able to do the job for me.

Either that, or make me wish I was dead.

Cold.

I was on my knees in the tunnel, going through my pack. My breath froze and crystallized in front of me, dusting its contents with ice shards. The heat lamp I’d set on the rock next to it was throwing shadows across my hands, as I tore through packets of rations looking for the sealed gel pouch.

My toes felt like ice, and my bare fingers were stiff and shook as I shivered. I alternated between holding them next to the heat lamp, and rummaging through my pack as fast as I could. Sweat dripped off of them and froze.

C’mon, where is it … Protein bars. Space blankets. Chemical heating pads. Cryo- there it was!

My fingers slipped, and it fell to the bottom. Argh! I cursed myself inwardly, as one hand dug through and held everything up, while my other hand reached down and grabbed it. Then I moved back up to the heat lamp really fast, shivering and trying to get the pouch open.

It had a brand name, but I didn’t care. It was cryoberry concentrate, and I needed it to kick my metabolism into overdrive before I froze down here. Shivering violently, I managed to tear open the pouch, then lifted my cloth mask just enough to squeeze the gel into my mouth.

I gagged. It was painfully sweet, and so tart that it burned. How many hundred times stronger than sweet cane was it? How much acid fermented in each berry? I’d tried to drink a cup of the juice once, and even after watering it down I couldn’t finish it. This was like an entire pitcher of the stuff in one mouthful.

I nearly spat it out, on reflex, but managed to force my mouth closed and tilted my head back, feeling the gel tear down my throat like bad heartburn as I swallowed. My tongue felt like I’d just drank scalding water, and I moistened my mouth, swallowing fast to clean it out. Then I cringed, gritting my teeth, fighting back the urge to vomit.

A voice in the back of my head told me If you hadn’t run off on your own, this wouldn’t have happened! I tried to remind myself what it was like back at camp; the loud, echoey snoring, the heat and sweat and itchy bedding, and the feeling of being suffocated. It’d been the second night in a row like that, and I’d already stayed up for most of it. I’d had to.

Was freezing and dying down here better than that? Probably not. I hadn’t meant to go this far, though. And I would’ve told someone if I’d known they would listen … if I’d known they cared at all. Or wouldn’t have just told me to tough it out, like they’d been doing.

I’d left markers, at any rate; chalk marks on the wall that had followed me all the way out here. Now I just had to follow them back …

… assuming I lived through this.

Cold was my next thought, followed by pain. I winced again, my throat tightening, fighting back tears behind my goggles. Then I pulled the mask back down over my face and put my gloves back on, still shivering. My feet were so cold they’d numbed, and my hands were still so cold they hurt, but the searing pain in my throat was starting to turn into warmth, and I could feel it beginning to spread.

Better get these out for when I need them, I thought. I pulled two handfuls of protein bars from my pack, and stashed them all in my pockets before zipping the pack up again and shouldering it. I was still cold, and still weary from hiking so far. But after all that I was wide awake.

I picked up the heat lamp and started walking back down the tunnel, stone and ice glistening in the lamp’s glow. Powdered ice crunched under my feet. I clicked the lamp shut, into flashlight mode, then looked behind me, away from its beam. It was surreally pitch-black just a few feet away.

When I turned around again, the first thing I saw was a bright orange chalk mark shining in the light, with others past it leading back along the tunnel. I was on the right track; the pedometer on my belt said that I still had a way to go, but I didn’t care … I could do this. I’d make myself do this. I had to.

The cold began to subside. I could feel my feet again, pins and needles inside like warm water had just been poured over them. It hurt, but I had to keep walking. The pain in my throat was harder to ignore, though, and so was the tightness in my stomach. It was no longer just from the acid; it was also the hunger pangs starting. I was going to need to eat soon, to fuel the furnace my body had turned into.

I was unwrapping the first protein bar when something stopped me in my tracks. The shadows didn’t look right, along the side of the wall. I went closer to investigate, and found a narrow tunnel leading back towards the main passage, which opened up and curved off in another direction some distance in. It looked icy and slippery, but I thought I could manage it even with my pack. Should I, though?

I walked over and shone my flashlight down it, trying to see where it went. It looked like it opened up after only ten metres or so, and-

What was that?

I looked at the ground, my protein bar all but forgotten. Something was there, partway lodged in the ice. Something that shone bright blue in the light.

I got down on my knees to inspect it more closely. It looked like a stone disc, its outer surface carved into segments. There was a rune engraved into each segment, and taking up most of one side was a bright blue jewel.

If you’re reading this where I think you are, then you know what something so out-of-place means. You know what’s about to happen. And if I’d been reading this there too, then I would’ve known in a heartbeat. But I’m not sure what I would have done.

But I didn’t know, so here’s what I was thinking:

Oh wow. Oh wow. How big is that jewel? Oh wow, I don’t believe it. How many grams worth is this? Who cares. I’m rich now! I’m so rich!

I started grinning like an idiot, the protein bar even further from my mind as my stomach twisted and growled. Should I tell them? I thought. It’d make the perfect comeuppance! My eyes widened. But what if they take it from me? What if they just take it and don’t even ask, just like they used to do … just like some of them used to, I corrected myself. No. This has to stay secret.

I nearly doubled over, as the hunger pangs overtook me. Then I knelt down right next to the protein bar, peeled the wrapper from it, and swallowed the entire thing at once, barely tasting it.

Another one followed, more slowly this time. It was chewy, and tasted of nut butters and vegetable oils. I stashed the wrappers in my other pocket, still chewing and savoring the second bar. Then I looked down at the disc, and wondered how on Tsoneria I was going to get it out of the ice.

I should have asked “how long”. It took me about half an hour.

I didn’t have a crowbar, or an ice pick. I had a few matches, but not enough to make any headway. The ice froze back, slick, and I had to be careful not to slip and stab myself as I hacked at it with my knife. Twice, I had to stop and grab another protein bar. I could feel myself growing uncomfortably warm.

Finally I grabbed hold of the disc and pulled, and the remaining ice broke away. Then I tried to stand up with it, only to be stopped short and nearly fell over. What the heck?

I looked closely. The disc had thin leather strips attaching it to the ice, tied around a loop at what must be the top. It wasn’t just a disc, it was an amulet; some kind of ornament. And the leather was buried deep in the ice.

I didn’t have time for that. So I cut the straps off, then held the disc up to the light, grinning excitedly. It was gorgeous, and I’m not just saying that because it looked valuable. The gem was as big around as my thumb, and the light played off it like a museum piece … I could imagine it displayed on a pillow, behind glass. Meanwhile, the stone around it was smooth, with no sharp edges except where the runes were carved. It looked finely made, and not manufactured.

I turned the stone disc around. On the back were intricate slots and grooves. I furrowed my brow, examining it. This side looked less like a piece of jewelry, and more like a piece of machinery. What was it for?

No clue, I thought. Oh well. I pocketed it, and started to go back when I stopped in my tracks. That side tunnel was beckoning me, and I don’t mean in a magical, mysterious sense. I mean something more like an OCD way. It was going to drive me nuts if I didn’t go down it.

You’d think I would’ve right away, just to see if it had anything to do with the gem and the disc. Or if there was any more where they’d come from. You have to remember, I had just spent the last couple of hours walking through the cold, then digging on my hands and knees ‘till my neck was sore. Plus I was hot and sweaty and uncomfortable inside my coat, now that the extract had taken effect. I really just wanted to go to bed, and tried to tell myself I could take everyone there tomorrow or something. But my OCD won out, and I sighed and walked down the tunnel.

Did I say “walked”? More like “squeezed” down the tunnel. It was iced over, and I could see stone past the ice but that didn’t help me gain traction. About halfway through I started to have trouble going any farther, and I panicked because I was alone and I didn’t want to get stuck here. But it turned out I’d just gotten my coat caught on something, and I got the rest of the way through, and looked out and gasped.

I was standing in a worked stone shaft going a hundred or more metres up, all the way to the mountain’s surface. The air in here was warmer than outside — the ice seemed to stop at the entrance — and the distant top shone like a gem in my flashlight, whole facets lighting up at once. I realized I was inside a hideaway; from above, that whole ceiling would look just like snow. I might be the first human inside this place, ever.

This is SO. COOL, I thought. Then I realized I was standing in darkness, and slowly shone the flashlight around.

Four-legged shapes prowled the darkness.

I jumped, banging my head on the wall and dropping the flashlight, going down on my knees to pick it up quickly. I fumbled with it for a moment before looking up again. My heart raced as I saw the shapes once more, and the shadows they threw on the walls. But then I realized they were statues … not living creatures, just statues.

I put one hand over my heart, trying to control my breathing. I was about to burn up, both from the heat, and the adrenaline racing through my body caused by the moment of fear. I yanked off my coat and mask, gasping in a few breaths through my mouth before removing my boots and my snowsuit. After that I looked around again, hearing my breathing echo like I was inside a cathedral.

The statues lined the wall of the wide, circular room, all of them big cats, all of them in different poses; walking, resting, cleaning themselves. I recognized a tiger, a leopard, and a lynx along one side before my eyes scanned over the rest of the room.

Beneath the stone rim that the statues were on was a large circle of dark earth, with glass lines embedded in it, radiating out from the centre. They looked interesting, almost runic, and the light played off of them … and something else in the room. Gems, set in the eyes of the statue at the far end. It looked like the leopard, but different … the carved spots were larger, the tail was thicker, and the shape of its face reminded me of a picture I’d seen once.  A snow leopard, maybe?

It was looking down at me.

The blue jewels in its eyes seemed to wink, as I shone the flashlight across them. I stepped towards it in my wool socks, beginning to tremble as I got closer. The light from my flashlight glinted off of the lines in the ground as I did so.

I started to feel very small, as my eyes darted between the carved floor and the cat statue watching me. I didn’t feel like a brave explorer, decked out in the best modern gear. I felt like an interloper. I could feel the echoes of the big cats who’d once lived on the mountain above judging me as though seeing a human creature for the first time. And I felt scared and contrite, and really sorry for disturbing them.

But I didn’t feel unwelcome. I didn’t feel like I’d done anything to anger them, and I planned to keep it that way. I stopped about halfway across the room, shining my flashlight discreetly up at the statues, casting big shadows across the wall. Then I took a step towards the statue at the far end again, but my foot caught on something and I tripped and fell.

I screamed! I just about had a heart attack, scrambling backwards on hands and knees and shining my flashlight all around, looking for the thing that’d just grabbed me. But nothing was moving; the statues were all still where they’d been. There was just an unusual spot on the ground where I’d tripped. A place where my light shone differently.

I crawled closer and examined it. It was a circular hole in the floor, right where the glass lines were radiating out from, a few centimetres deep and with grooves carved inside it. And it was about the same size as the disc.

No one ever thinks they’re in one of these stories. Few people realize the significance of the things that they see all around them, but even I wasn’t dense enough to miss the connection. And the second I realized it, my OCD told me to “Put the disc in the hole.”

My heart raced again. I tried to argue with myself. “What if that triggers the self-destruct? Or brings the roof down, or something?” But then I imagined a robber, his face hooded and eyes dark, grabbing things up all around the room, and running out into the tunnels. And in my mind’s eye, I saw the disc fall right where I’d found it.

It wasn’t a vision. It was just starting to seem like the most plausible explanation. And besides, the disc was obviously meant to be there. How could anyone fault me for putting it back? They’d have to be Fey, or something, to do that.

My last retort was that I wanted to keep the disc, so I could sell it. Living on disability didn’t leave me enough silver for anything, after I’d bought food, clothes and clean water. I had to rely on my friends for everything, even to pay for this trip. I wanted some independence … I wanted to at least be able to repay them. I looked up at the statues meekly, clutching the disc in both hands, as though trying to see if they judged me for this.

“You can take it back out once you’ve tested it”, my brain said. “Just try it once so you can see what happens.”

The statues were silent.

I cringed, squeezing the disc tight in my hands. For a long moment, I hesitated, then slowly knelt down to the ground, placed the disc in the hole, and ran like heck, nearly falling over in the process.

Nothing happened.

I turned back around once I bumped into one of the statues, breathing fast and looking back down at the disc. What hadn’t I done correctly? After a second it clicked, and my brain said “You’ve got to turn it in place. That’s what the grooves are for.” And I facepalmed, smacking my icy glove to my forehead, before shaking the ice from my hair. The statues said nothing as I walked back towards the disc.

Kneeling down next to it, I gave it a quarter-turn before something clicked. A glow shot out through the lines all around me, so fast that my breath caught, and so bright that my flashlight was drowned out. A bass hum vibrated the floor.

I knelt there, frozen in place, too scared to do anything else.

Sweat coated my sides and I watched as though dreaming, as more glowing lines crept up from the floor towards the center statue, illuminating its spots and markings.  Then there was a rumbling, growing steadily louder as the stone crumbled and fell away, revealing a real, living snow leopard underneath. I watched with wide eyes as it stretched out on the pedestal, extending its claws and swinging its tail as the rumbling faded, leaving only the bass hum beneath me, and the pounding of my heart.

The snow leopard peered down for a moment, its head cocked to one side as if curious, and I looked on in terror, the voice in my head whispering that I was going to die. Then it sprang.

I was out as soon as my head hit the floor.

“This can’t be real.”

Blades of grass under my pawpads, which I was sure I didn’t have before. Tree branches scraping through my fur. The painful burning of overexertion in my chest.

“It’s just a dream.”

The bitter cold night air. The heavy panting of the beast behind me, a brief glimpse over my shoulder revealing little more than it was much bigger than me and probably much stronger. All of my instincts screaming at me to run for my life.

“It’s just a–”

The creature’s very real jaws snapping at my heels, causing very real scrapes. A fresh burst of adrenaline coursed through me, and I was able to surge forward again, just out of reach of the thing.

“…A very realistic dream.”

I squinted into the distance. There was something weird with my eyesight, all I could see was black and white. It did have its advantages– I was able to see in contrasts well. No wonder I could see in the dark this well. The disadvantage was I could very clearly see I was about to run off a cliff.

“Oh God. Ohgodohgodohgod…”

It extended as far as I could see. Looking back, I was probably on a mesa or something, but my geographical location was the least of my concerns then.

“It’s just a dream, it’s just a dream, it’s just a dream.”

My own thoughts set a cadence for my run. I closed my eyes and tried to ignore how incredibly vivid everything was, and hoped it would all be over soon. And finally my paws hit thin air.

I didn’t fall. I was soaring above the ground, clumsily flapping the wings I didn’t know I had before. I laughed in spite of myself, a strangely human sound given I didn’t feel human at all. Despite the muscle strain and stress, I was half-crazed with relief and beyond feeling pain.

Or at least I was until I heard the beating of wings not my own. I didn’t even have time to look behind me before a great, clawed, heavy something slamming into me, sending me spiraling to the ground as its jaws bit into my neck, making it impossible to breathe. With oxygen deprivation creeping in and strangling rational thought, I had about enough time to note that the ground was rushing up much too fast for asphyxiation to be a concern.

I was wrong. Just when I was inches from the ground, I flinched. And when I opened my eyes again, I was on the kitchen floor, tangled in my bedsheets, and not breathing.

I’d almost drowned once– hit my head on the edge of a pool when I was diving in. That was almost peaceful, because I didn’t even realize I was dying until they dragged me out of the water, with everyone but me screaming and panicking. I was numb and far away and (in retrospect) way too comfortable with it all.

And this was nothing like that. It felt like there was something crushing my chest, even though there was nothing there, my muscles ached like I’d ran for miles, something was grabbing my throat, and my lungs were burning in agony.

Somewhere inbetween me frantically thrashing around, a tiny bit of air forced its way through my windpipe, and the pain subsided just a bit. Then a little more, and a little more, and finally I was breathing normally again.

Even after all that, I still couldn’t move. I knew I probably looked ridiculous, but my parents knew about my “sleepwalking.” They didn’t know I was having nightmares all the time– nobody did. I just couldn’t tell anyone. Scary dreams were things that little kids got worked up over, not someone in high school.

It’d never been this bad, though. Then again, I’d never died either. Weren’t you supposed to die in real life if you died in your dreams? I’d come so close, so maybe that was why…

The clock caught my attention. Four in the morning. My mom was going to be up soon, and the last thing I wanted was for him to see me like this. I picked myself off the ground, bundled the blankets around me, and trudged back to my room so I could pretend to sleep for another four hours until I had to get ready for school.

The nice thing about having attention span issues is you can entertain yourself for hours with your own thoughts. The downside is it’s very easy to have those thoughts interrupted by things like a dog jumping on your bed and otherwise trying to get your attention.

“Go away, Soraya.” I shoved my head under the covers and tried my best to ignore her. So she tried to hide under the covers with me.

It’d never occurred to me before, but her name now struck me as strange. Soraya was an Arabic name, and she was an American Water Spaniel– not true to her heritage. And it always seemed like such a noble name. Noble was something American Water Spaniels aren’t. They’re silly-looking dogs whose main purpose in being was to bring back dead animals to hunters who would be otherwise too lazy or preoccupied to pick up what they shoot in the first place.

She’d always been something of a neurotic dog, which was why she was hiding in the first place. Half the time I didn’t even bother trying to find out what spooked her, but I was always the one who had to calm her down.

I felt her nudging in closer to me, so I reached out to pat her head in kind. “You’ve got it so easy.” It was true– I guess on some level I envied dogs, I had for a while. It was on some emotional or spiritual level I couldn’t quite describe. Dogs made sense in a way people didn’t, and they seemed so carefree.

I didn’t want to be a dog though, much as I liked them. There was something else out there that was better, I realized in a half-asleep epiphany. Something more me. Something like…

There was a loud creak as the bedroom door opened, and whatever answer I had slipped away. Mom was up. And I needed to pretend to be asleep. I closed my eyes and I drifted into periods of brief, fitful minutes of sleep interrupted by jerking awake, and then starting the cycle anew.

* * *

I shouldn’t have to tell you how incredibly miserable I was when I had to wake up. But energy drinks were made for people like me, and after a highly nutritious breakfast of Saltines (I knew I wouldn’t be able to keep any other solids down) and a combination of liquid sugar, fruit juice, and lots and lots of caffeine, I had about enough to make myself go to school without fainting along the way.

To my credit, I’d only ever fainted once, and that was attributed to a terrible diet. I can’t remember the last time I’d stepped into the cafeteria. I usually just skipped lunch. It was too noisy there, too loud, and too much high school politics. I didn’t want to bother with all the cliques. So I just hid out in the library. The librarians liked the company, I liked the books and relative solitude. It was mutually beneficial, so they never told the SROs.

The forty-five minutes I got to spend in there were almost always the best part of the school day. But it was over three hours away. And I had Advanced Algebra first period. I already hated today.

Of course, therein lies the advantage of being hungry and tired most of the time. It’s really easy to zone out when you’re like that.I could just glide through all my classes, not needing to comprehend anything because you’d have to be lobotomized to not at least marginally pass core classes, and I’d be fine with just marginal. If you haven’t inferred as much, I just want out of school.

So I shuffled into class, collapsed in the desk, and hoped the teacher wouldn’t notice me dozing off. They usually don’t. As long as you show up and don’t fail the tests, they’re not to concerned. I like things that way.

I had my head nestled in the comfiest part of my hoodie when I saw someone walk in out of the corner of my eye. A very tall someone with nondescript black clothing who I’d never seen before at school. He was wearing sunglasses, but I could tell he was staring right at me. Usually I don’t care if someone is, but there was something just wrong about that guy. I don’t know how to put it, he just weirded me out– there was something predatory about him. And he didn’t look strong, he was built like a scarecrow, but I got the impression he could rip me apart without trying. So much for my nap.

The teacher ran through the roll. There weren’t any new names on there, and he didn’t even address the creepy guy. Nobody else even seemed to notice him; the kid behind him seemed to just stare right through him.

I looked up the clock. Only five minutes into class. On the bright side, I was starting to feel a bit sick. Maybe I could call home and say I was coming down with something. It wouldn’t even be a lie for once, because the clock was now sliding in and out of focus. And my chest was tightening and my heart felt like it was going to explode I was starting to feel like I would be sick in the middle of class.

I staggered out the door without bothering to give an explanation. I think the teacher was yelling at me to get a hall pass, but I was beyond the point of paying attention. The world wasn’t just blurring now, it was sliding completely out of focus. The colors were all starting to blend together. The only reason I wasn’t running into anything was I’d been through these halls too many times to count.

I rubbed my eyes– it didn’t help. And I wasn’t tearing up or anything like that, so there wasn’t anything in my eyes. I still managed to stumble into the bathroom and turn on the faucet. I splashed water onto my face– it was ice cold and I didn’t really care. If anything, it made me feel a little better.

I took deep breaths in and out. The panic and sickness started to subside. I checked the mirror– I looked pale and gaunt and sickly and…

…And I was seeing things, because my ears had gone all pointy and furry. I stumbled back, blinked…and they were still there. I slumped against a wall, not daring to look at the mirror as if pretending they weren’t there would make them go away. Morbid curiosity drove me to touch the side of my head.

But nothing was there. Nothing weird, anyway. So of course when I looked in the mirror just to make sure, there was something weird behind me. Or someone, rather. He was only there for a second, his eyes seeming to bore right through me beneath his sunglasses. And then he was gone.

It took a few moments to sink in. And then I ran. I wasn’t thinking, I didn’t know where I was going, I didn’t what was happening, but it was just the only thing it seemed like I could do.

* * *

Next thing I knew I was hiding between some lockers on ground floor practically hyperventilating. “Deep breaths. Deep breaths.” I told myself. “It was just a panic attack, it’s over now. Calm down. Nothing’s wrong with you. Nothing’s wrong nothing’s wrong nothing’s wrong…” I eventually was able to make myself believe it, enough I could shakily stand up.

The intercom crackled to life. “Connor Glendon, please report to the administrative building, Connor Glendon, to the administrative building, please.”

Awesome. My truant ways were catching up to me.

“Doctor Reese is expecting you.” Or not. I guess the little incident earlier could have just been passed off as one big panic attack (and maybe that was what it was in the first place? Though I’d never felt like I was sick during one) and he was just worried about me. That didn’t seem so bad.

I flashed my ID at the SRO standing in front of the administrative building. It was probably unnecessary, I had to go here a lot, but policies are policies. I was halfway down the hall when the SRO yelled “Stop!”

I spun around– but it wasn’t me he was addressing, thankfully. It was two girls I didn’t recognize. One blonde with baggy shirt bearing the name of a band I didn’t recognize and a redhead with a scowl that seemed permanently set on her face.

The blonde girl smiled at the SRO. “I’m sorry. We’re new here, we just haven’t had a chance to get our IDs.” Her eyes flashed for a moment, and they turned bright yellow all over, with tiny, slitted snake-like pupils in the center. “Trust us.”

I felt a chill run down my spine. Actually, that was an understatement. I’m not sure how to describe how seeing that felt otherwise, but I’ll try. It’s like looking at something that can’t exist, but does. Yeah, I know some people will wear weird contacts that look kind of like that just to shock people, but this was different, more natural-looking.

And just a few minutes ago, I’d grown dog ears. Either I was going crazy or…well, I was probably just going crazy. But I was running a fever, maybe that just meant the heat was frying my brain. Which meant I was probably going to die soon. That didn’t seem much better.

The SRO’s eyes glazed over. “Well, alright.” And just like that, he let them by. Now that just wasn’t right. I mean, everything about it, right down to this weird gut feeling that she was scary and dangerous. And the officers here were supposed to be really strict, thanks to the fact we’d gotten school shooting threats and things like that. They strolled on right by me. The blonde one smiled and waved at me before they both disappeared down a corridor.

God, what a day. And I had to think of a way to diplomatically express the fact I might be having hallucinations to Doctor Reese really fast. I slumped into a chair outside his office. I just needed a few minutes–

“Connor!” He was standing right in front of me. I nearly jumped out of my skin. “Sorry.” He did one of those fake-y laughs. “Didn’t mean to scare you. But we’ve been calling you for the past ten minutes, I was getting worried.”

“Sorry…” Was all I could come up with.

“Well, come on in.” He gestured inside. “I’ve got some things I’d like to talk to you about.”

I had a sinking feeling about that. But I went inside anyway, it was better than being in class. Reese was shuffling some papers at his desk, one of those ‘I-know-something-about-you-and-I’m-not-going-to-rest-until-you-tell-me’ smiles about him. “You missed some of you classes today.” It was a statement, not a question.

“Yeah.” I stared out the window. Eye contact just felt uncomfortable.

“Have you been feeling well lately?” More paper rustling.

“Well…” Diplomacy or honesty? “I’ve been having nightmares again, so I didn’t sleep much. And I think I had another panic attack in class today.” Mom always said honesty was the best policy, and it’d be a nice change of pace.

A glint of concern flashed through his dark eyes. “You haven’t been having panic attacks often, have you?”

“This was the first one in a while.” Several months, really, I’d had one the first time I tried to take the SAT.

“And the dreams?”

“A lot. Almost every other day.” I tried not to think about the jaws closing around my windpipe. And failed. I reached my hand to my throat. “They’re usually vivid. But sometimes I just wake up afraid of something and don’t know what.” He seemed to take notice of that, his eyes settling on my neck. I jerked my hand back down.

He still got the picture. He was really good at that. “Are there any recurring themes to these?”

“I guess. I’m usually running from something.” This was getting uncomfortably Freudian for me. I took Intro to Psych, I knew where dream analysis went.

“And do you escape, or…?”

“I don’t.” And I wanted to leave it at that.

He went ‘hmmm’ again and leaned back in his seat. “So your anxiety’s been worse than usual?”

Well, thank God, and here I was thinking he’d ask be about what my relationship with my mother was like. “I guess, yeah.”

“It’s entirely possible that’s just a reflection of that.” He steepled his hands. “You see, dreams often resemble our waking experiences and parallel then, though sometimes in abstract ways. If you’d like, you could tell me a bit more about them.”

I sighed. “I don’t know, it’s pretty generic. I’m running through a forest trying to get away from a monster, and I…I don’t get away. Then I wake up. But I’m pretty sure I sleepwalk during them. I don’t wake up in my bed.”

He arched an eyebrow. “Have you gotten this checked out by a doctor?”

“The medicine didn’t help any.” And it made me sleep so deeply my alarm clock didn’t wake me up.

His phone rang. “Sorry, one second…” He checked the screen and went ‘hmmm’ for what must have been the tenth time in the past five minutes. “I have a question for you that might seem strange, so I’d like to apologize in advance if I’m off-base here.”

“Shoot.”

“In addition to these dreams, have you been having any hallucinations?”

My stomach lurched. “How’d he know?”

And of course he noticed that too. “Perhaps that you’re becoming something else. Maybe you’ve even felt like that was true for a while, and it’s only just now these hallucinations have started happening.”

I was still too stunned to say much of anything.

He paused as if waiting for the inevitable confirmation. “It’s alright if you are. It isn’t your fault. But these are symptoms of a rare mental disorder–”

“So what? I’m schizophrenic?” I cut in.

“No, nothing like that.” He held up his hands. “This is much less permanent and much more manageable. It’s called therianthropic psychosis, I’ve worked with it before.”

“I’ve never heard of it.”

“It hasn’t passed DSM review yet. But it’s very real, I’m sure of that. I get the feeling you can attest to that.”

“If I have this, what am I supposed to do–” Someone started slamming at the door. Reese jerked up, looking stunned. Obviously this wasn’t part of his script. Whoever it was– sounded like a she– started yelling, though it was too muffled to make out. “Shouldn’t you, like, call security or something?” There was a shrill edge to my voice I really didn’t like.

He was already reaching for his phone again when the door broke open. Literally. It just splintered.

The red-haired girl standing in the doorway seemed innocuous enough, except for the shards of wood in her hands. I’d seen her a few minutes ago trying a more subtle approach to breaking and entering. “You!” She hissed. She lunged at Reese, yowling like some kind of animal…and she looked like one too, she’d grown ears and a tail. Like I had earlier, except feline instead.

To be continued…

My parents weren’t there to see me off. There hadn’t been any time after the test had been done. I’d only had a few minutes to grab my belongings, and no one else had been in the house. Besides that, it was a military train station, not a light rail depot. My parents probably didn’t have clearance. No one else’s families seemed to be there, either.

Guards stood around us as we boarded, wearing thick ceramic plates and carrying the kind of rifles that shot your soul, not your body. Between them and the steel-armored maglev, huge and intimidating up close like a dinosaur’s flank, I nearly had a panic attack just getting on the train. It felt like stepping into a cage … or being shoved in, as the case may be.

Still, once I was inside I felt safer. It was cold with air conditioning, and echoey with the metal clanks of walking, but it reminded me of a subway car without any advertisements. Even better, it looked like the kind of train where you got your own compartment. An unarmored soldier showed me to mine, and I sat down on the thin cushion fidgeting nervously.

Now that I knew it was there, I could feel the animal inside my heart, frightened and begging for someplace to hide. I knew it was alien — it was the problem — but for now I didn’t protest. I let it be scared, and I drew my knees up to my chin and hugged them, closing my eyes and blocking the world out. And when the door shut, and left me alone in there, I let out a sigh of relief.

I looked out the bulletproof glass at the concrete side of the station, and thought of what lay beyond … what lay outside the city. But if this was a cage, it was keeping me safe inside it. And from now on, whatever happened to me was out of my hands.

Somehow, I found that prospect both relieving and frustrating. It meant that I was just a passive observer. No guilt, no reason for people to claim that this whole deal was my fault. I didn’t ask to be tainted with an animal spirit, it just happened. I didn’t ask for treatment, I just needed it. And I didn’t want to go outside, but that was the only place I could be treated.

I wouldn’t have minded actually having some power over all this. But I didn’t. That seemed to be how things went in my life — always being dragged around by something or another. I was getting used to it, just like how I was starting to get used to the constant nagging fear that came with having an animal eating away at your human soul.

Well, at least one of those things would be going away.

I tried to turn my thoughts towards more pleasant matters by looking around at the scenery. But military trains are not the most visually stimulating places around, unless you really like looking at shades of gunmetal grey. On to plan B then — a nap, or as close as I could come to getting one.

Of course, the moment I closed my eyes, the door slid open. I opened my eyes and tilted my head towards the door, fully expecting a soldier. What I saw was a young man about my age (I wasn’t sure; I was never a good judge of these things) in civilian clothing. He smiled a forced sort of smile, and waved at me.

I bit my lip and looked out the window again. “Please don’t let him sit next to me. Please don’t … ”

He sat next to me. Of course. My heart lodged itself somewhere in my throat, and I did my best to ignore him lest it fall right out of my mouth. I might not have been keen on the idea of going on living at the time, but that seemed like an awful way to die.

“Um. Hi,” he said. His voice was quiet and subdued, like it was for most people with eidolic toxicosis. Spirit poisoning. “M-my name’s Leander. Everyone just calls me Lee though.”

Cue awkward but inevitable pause between the two of us, while my animal side screamed at me that he was extremely dangerous and I needed to run and hide. Just like it did for every other person I met. It was worse than usual now, maybe because I was cornered. After all, he was between me and the door, I didn’t think the guards would take well to me fleeing through the hallways in a blind terror anyway.

“So … what’s yours?” I heard him shifting in his seat.

I sighed and looked in his general direction, more at the fabric patterns on the seat than his face. Maybe if I played along for a little while he’d leave me alone, and I could go back to pretending he wasn’t there. “It’s Corrine.”

“Well, it’s nice to meet you.” He didn’t sound like he meant it. I couldn’t blame him; it’s not like these were great circumstances to be meeting anyone. “So, do you live here?”

It was a ridiculous question, and he realized it if his frantic backpedaling was any sign. “Um, I mean, it’s just I haven’t seen you around. Did you, uh, move here recently or something?”

“No. Lived here all my life.” And good riddance.

“What school do you go to?” Ugh, small talk. He sounded about as excited about it as I did, more like he was reading lines off a page than putting anything into a conversation.

“I don’t.”

He stared at me, confused. I saw his face contort and twitch for a moment.

“Long story,” I offered, in the way of explanation. It was the most anyone would ever get out of me.

“I didn’t do too well in school either. Not with grades, but … you know.” His voice dropped into the near-inaudible range. “It’s why they, ah, had me tested. And now I’m here.”

I winced. Was I really that obvious? “Yeah. They never got me tested at school, though.”

“Then how … ?”

“Work. It’s required by law now.”

“Oh.” He looked down again, his gaze flitting back and forth like he couldn’t bear to look up at me for more than a second. “Sorry.”

Huh. ‘Sorry.’ Well, what else could you say to someone who had a spiritual tumor growing in them? “We’re all in the same boat here,” I said, the terror inside me quieting as I willed myself to believe it. “Er, train, sorry. Anyway, they’ll find a cure soon.” I was being hopelessly optimistic, if not outright lying. It wasn’t going to be soon, if the military was overseeing this like they seemed to be. They tended to be busy with other things, like the skinchangers. As long as we weren’t p-shifting and ripping their throats out, we weren’t high priority. Which meant we were probably getting shoved off to the outer world where they could forget about us.

“Right.” Sincere voice, suspicious body language. He could probably see right through me, even if I could read people I never was a complicated read. “So…have they told you where we’re going?”

“Outside.”

“I know that.” He crossed his arms. “But didn’t anyone tell you where?”

“I know about as much as you do.” I shrugged. “Which isn’t much. It’s the military, what were you expecting?”

He flinched again. “Could you keep it down? They can probably hear us.”

In retrospect, implying the guys with guns were anything short of open, heroic, and competent was probably a bad idea. “Sorry.” I mumbled and did a double-take towards the door. Still closed, and they weren’t beating the door in. So far, so good. Maybe I’d even get through the ride there alive, if the train ever left the station.

It wasn’t long before I was drumming my fingers against the armrest and scowling, quite against my own will.

“Nervous?” And here I was almost willing him out of existence. Drat.

“Yeah.” My rhythmic cadence had turned into a rapid-fire solo from one of my favorite metal songs. Blast beats for the win. “I just don’t like enclosed spaces.”

He laughed nervously. “Me neither.” He stood up, reaching into a shelf above us for his luggage. “Here, I’ve got something that can help…”

Naturally at this movement, the maglev lurched into movement, and he fell to the floor along with his bag. I’ll be honest, I laughed, but more of a reflex than out of it being any kind of funny. I much more carefully got to my feet, and picked his bag up from on top of him. “You alright?”

“I’m fine.” He said far too quickly. “Sorry, I’m not that coordinated.” He braced himself against the windowsill and placed himself back into his seat.

“No need to apologize.” His bag was a bloody mess. I could see notebook papers poking out the sides of it with illegible scribblings just about everywhere, including the margins. But then again, I wasn’t one to criticize organizational skills. But I wasn’t this bad…was I?

He stared at his bag. “Could you…”

My brain took a few moments to process through what he could possibly be asking for. And then the proverbial lightbulb went off. “Oh.” I dropped the bag in front of him.

He gave me a bewildered look in exchange, and picked it up. “I always carry around at least a few of these with me.” I heard papers rustling around, and from the debris he produced a stuffed animal of some kind of dog.

“It’s cute.” I said, not really sure what else he was expecting.

“She’s a jackal. Only one I’ve ever seen.” He smiled fondly at the stuffed animal. “She can keep you company. If you want, I mean.”

“Sure.” Why not? Maybe this would get him to leave me alone. And at least it seemed to brighten his day, his face sure did light up. He did an underhand toss and the jackal landed right in my lap.

“I’ve got a lot of these. I collect them. I even have a virus plushie, want to see?”

“No.” I did have a nagging curiosity about how that was even possible (what with viruses being a microscopic entity and all) but I was sure the results couldn’t be pretty. Assuming they were visible to the naked eye.

As I tucked her under my arms, I had to admit, she was soft, and fuzzy, and strangely comforting. I leaned up against the seat and stared out the window, the pine forests obscured by a shimmering eidolic hedge. Still, it at least seemed less claustrophobic. Maybe now I could get my nap. The animal in me seemed to be somewhat satisfied, at least.

Everything turned very dark– we were heading into a tunnel. Perfect for my nap. I stretched out as far as I could without kicking Leander. And then the train lurched to a stop again.

He blinked, looking out the window along with me. “That can’t good…”

In my personal experience, a situation is never so bad that it can’t somehow get worse. And I was proven right once again when the eidolic hedge powered down. Any feeling of security I had withered away and died. What was going to protect us now from all the skinchangers and raiders and Lord-only-knows-what-else lurking outside?

Safety lights flickered on in the hallways and the intercom crackled to life. “Attention passengers. There has been a mechanical malfunction on the maglev. Please remain seated until the problem is resolved.”

This was less than reassuring, but the howls coming closer and closer were a greater concern of mine. It meant one of two things– wild animals or skinchangers. I was praying for animals.

Leander didn’t seem to be doing much better. All the color drained from his face. “Did you hear that?”

I was finding it impossible to speak or make a sound, and merely nodded in response.

Outside I could hear feet shuffling around and eidolic bullets loading into gun chambers, the soldiers otherwise eerily silent. Their movements stopped. I could hear a dull click, click, click, like metal against metal. Then, the shattering of glass and screams. Some might have been my own, I wasn’t even sure at this point. My mind had placed itself somewhere far away and safe, where there wasn’t shouting and gunfire and more screaming.

I had only the vaguest perception of someone grabbing my arm. A few moments and I realized it was Leander, and he was yelling at me too and I wasn’t sure what he was saying. Somewhere in all the haze I realized he was pulling me towards the door and trying to open it. I guess it wasn’t working, because we weren’t going much of anywhere.

But it didn’t really matter now, because there wasn’t a door to speak of. The soldiers were literally up in arms and screaming. They were also being flung across the hallways as if of their own will. Then I thought I heard one saying “Protect the civilians!” but it was hard to hear over the gunfire. And I was so far away already.

Something– I wasn’t sure what, because I couldn’t see anything except a strange shimmer in the air like heat off the pavement in summer– caused Leander to lift straight off the floor. His hand was yanked from my grip, and I stumbled onto the ground. I got off better than Leander did. He was thrown against a wall, and stopped moving.

I felt another something brush up against my collarbone. And then a flash of light, and a yowl of pain, and the something became very clear. It towered over me, and had to hunch over to fit in the compartment. Its golden fur contrasted starkly against the grey of everything else around it, and its feline face had a savage look in its eyes. It was unmistakably a lion skinchanger. And I should have been terrified of it, but I wasn’t. The animal in me was silent for once. And something about it was morbidly fascinating, like how a flame must be beautiful to a moth.

Of course this thing probably wouldn’t burn me to death. I’d just get my head knocked off. It’d at least be faster.

The thing backhanded the last soldier standing, and turned back to me. One of my aunts had a cat before they became illegal, and that animal was an unrepentant mouser before everyone went into a mass panic and started exterminating mice. The way that skinchanger looked at me was exactly the same as how her cat would look at mice before it killed them, except it had a very human grin on its face. One with more very sharp teeth than I cared to think about.

It must have had some mercy in it, or it just got bored of tormenting me. I didn’t even see him move his paw to strike me, and it only hurt for a second before I fell unconscious.