Alone Chap. 1: A snow leopard tf story

"Aaaaarrgh!" I screamed to myself as I slammed the door of my old Mazda 626. Not the most distinguished of sentiments, but I was not in the mood to play Shakespeare. I had just come home from another botched job interview, one I had driven over an hour to get to.

"We'll keep your name on file and call you if anything shows up", they said. Yeah, right. They never called. I know that because I've had over six months of experience in the lucrative field of unemployment. Even my car seemed to sigh in defeat, the chipped pine green paint looking duller than usual, the tires appearing just the slightest bit deflated. That interview was my last hope if I wanted to keep my house. The rent was due in three days and I wasn't the most punctual in putting up the cash. One more late payment and I was guaranteed to be evicted. As such, I was in a sour mood when I noticed my next door neighbor silently watching me from his front porch.

He was an elderly man who appeared to be somewhere in his mid-seventies, although he had the gait of a much younger man. I barely knew my neighbors on account of binge-watching Netflix instead of attending the neighborhood block party, but he was a mystery even to them. I affectionately called him "Mr. Whatshisname" and so did about half the neighborhood. His amber-colored eyes felt like they could bore a hole into the darkest reaches of your soul and then serve it a platter of freshly baked snickerdoodles. His face seemed to be locked in eternal battle between evil and good, laugh lines competing with scowl lines for domination of his face. Even his thinning white hair seemed to have wrinkles in it. He was wearing a sweater and bow tie combo that probably was fished out from the wreckage of the titanic, yet appeared to be in far better condition than the patched up cotton one I bought from goodwill. Accompanying him was a scruffy one-eyed black cat who appeared to be giving me the death stare for distracting his owner's attention. Upon noticing my staring at him, he gingerly hopped off his stoop and waltzed over into my yard.

"Tough day, champ?" he rasped, his voice sounding like he was having a heart attack with every breath. Given his age, that certainly wasn't impossible. I didn't hate Mr. Whatshisname for any particular reason but I wasn't in the mood to talk. I told him to shove off as politely as I could. Unfortunately for me, he didn't take the hint.

"What? You look like you just got evicted or something." he chuckled. This only made me angrier.

"I just did"! I yelled back at the old man, probably louder than I should've. "I had an interview today and completely blew it-and the rent's due in three days! There's no way I can afford this %^&$# place now!" I let out a few choice curse words to top off my rent. Strangely, the old man seemed unfazed by my tirade and stood his ground, a tired but compassionate look on his face. He let out a quick puff of air before speaking.

"I wonder why," he quipped, continuing before I could retort.

"I mean that in every sense of the word, boy", he drawled. "Figuring out why you keep failing to find work is the key to fixing your mistakes." He sounded like my dad when I was a teenager. He did have a point though. I took a deep breath and tried to calm down, or at least be angry quieter.

"Well, it's not the resume that's my problem." I thought out loud. Mr. Whatshisname motioned for me to continue. "The stupid problem is the #$%#ing interview. I go in there and see Mr. Big Man in a suit and completely vomit all over myself. - I mean that in an entirely rhetorical way", I added quickly, smoothing out his confused visage.
"It's like every time I try and make something of myself, I just go and crap the bed. I try and make small talk and end up confusing the interviewer's wife for a dog. I guess I just completely suck at interacting with people." I felt my shoulders slump as the words left my lips. My mind slipped down into negative thoughts, depression welling up within me. They nagged at the back of my head, slithering over and devouring what self esteem I had left. After spending all day getting chewed up by a suit man I was too exhausted to fight back the mental anguish. I felt like a complete failure as a human being.

Suddenly my mind was wrenched back to reality as I glimpsed Mr. Whatshisname staring at me with a bewildered expression on his ancient face, his eyes a confused mixture of surprise and pity. My face flushed with heat as I realized my thoughts were not as private as I thought they were. Had I been rambling blindly the whole time? I sighed and decided what the hell. I was annoyed, depressed, and just wanted to get this conversation over with. Did it really matter if the old man knew I was a pathetic, unemployed loser? Just jump on the "Everyone hates me" boat. Everyone else has.

The old man seemed to be lost deep in thought, processing the equivalent of my life story. His ancient eyes suddenly appeared to be calculating something, swirling with the wisdom a long life grants you. I realized that spilling out my pent up feelings to a man who was practically a stranger might not be all that bad. Maybe he'd turn out to be some sensei-like figure and offer me some Buddhist wisdom about how to get my life back on track. I made a mental notepad in my brain to jot down anything that sounds important.

After what seemed like ages, he finally seemed done contemplating, his furrowed brow replaced with a relaxed one. He let out a raspy wheeze as he prepared to speak.

"Have you tried developing a personality?"

At that moment, I had had enough. It had been a really stressful day and I was too exhausted to deal with this b.s. Against my better nature, I snapped.

" Maybe you should develop cancer and die so I can finally have some f****ing peace and quiet!" I shouted at him. "My whole life just went down the toilet and you don't care because you haven't worked since the Nixon administration!" My outburst caught him by surprise, but he didn't flinch. He just seemed to look at me, a look of pity on his wrinkled face. He meekly adjusted his bow tie.

"Well I-" the old man tried to intervene, but I cut him off, still furious at how this whole day turned out.

" What, are you going to say I'm a failure because when you were my age you ran three businesses and had seven kids? That I'm some weird shut-in freak because I don't go to the disco every Saturday night? Well here's a news flash, mister, I already know that! So why can't you just leave me alone!?" I angrily grabbed my car keys and tried to push past him to my house.

He obliged, but as brushed by him I could've sworn I heard him whisper "If you insist," under his breath.

I brushed it aside and stormed up the steps leading to my house. It wasn't much, but it had been home for the past five years. I moved to this crack-pot nowhere town in the middle of Virginia for a job at the giant pet food factory that apparently employed half of the people who lived here. It wasn't a bad job either, a position in entry-level management with convincing benefits and a chance to gain valuable work experience. Plus, the living expenses here were dirt cheap compared to the condo in D.C. I lived in before. My job paid the bills and left a little extra, which went towards savings and the occasional trip to Italy. It was supposed to be a temporary fix before I moved on to greater heights and hopefully a town with a Wal-mart. But things quickly went south. The company I had signed on to turned out to be run by greedy douchebags who had found themselves in debt due to poor decision making and countless money laundering scandals and decided the factories would be the place to cut costs. My job turned into a living nightmare as the benefits I signed up for were cut, and conditions in the factory deteriorated to insufferable levels. I could've found about thirty OSHA violations in as many seconds on a given day, but the higher ups didn't care. This factory employed half the town and was the only thing keeping them above the poverty line. They couldn't complain, but I could. I had prospects outside of this dump.

Then the economy took a nosedive and my opportunities for escape slammed shut in my face. I was chained to this town like everyone else if I wanted to eat. Even worse, as the bottom line began to falter, the higher-ups once again decided the lower rungs on the ladder were the ones who would have to pay for it. Increased hours, sudden schedule changes, and missed paychecks were commonplace. I was working 16 hour shifts and making half of what I should've been. Yet I depended on this job with my life, so I couldn't complain. I gritted my teeth and tried to make the best of an unfavorable situation. What I was hoping to be a temporary gig became six long, difficult years of being chained to this hellhole town.

Somehow, even with the idiotic higher ups in corporate throwing away money like it was confetti, it took a few years before the company became embroiled in an embezzlement scandal it couldn't drag itself out of and finally declared bankruptcy. All the employees at the factory were canned, including me. Of course the manual workers blamed management for the mess, even low tier managers like me who had as much influence on corporate decisions as they did. I was ostracized by the community I had lived in for six years, and without a way out, could do nothing but browse the "help wanted" ads as my savings slowly drained away.

That slow buildup of inevitable disaster had slowly led up to this moment as I prepared to enter my house, still fuming at the day's events. I stopped right before I entered, however, noticing a medium sized package that had somehow found its way onto my porch. I blinked a couple times to make sure it was real. I hadn't seen it pulling into my driveway. Could the old man have placed it here? I shot a quick glance at him making his way back into his house, cat in tow. He looked at me right before going inside, and I could've sworn I saw him wink right as he shut the door.

Perplexed, I picked up the package and carried it into my humble abode, setting it down on the kitchen counter. Taped to the top was a wrinkly piece of paper with a handwritten note scribbled on it. In scraggly letters it read "For Keith Ward". After changing from my suit into a more comfortable flannel shirt and khakis, I made my way to the box with a pair of scissors. Slightly concerned, whether for me or the mental health of the old man I know not, I sliced through the cardboard, cracking the box open. What I found inside only served to confuse me further. After digging through endless mounds of packing peanuts he found three items: A snow leopard hand puppet, a cheezy postcard of Mount Everest, and a stuck at the very bottom of the box was a handwritten letter in the same third-grade handwriting as on the top of the box. I picked up the letter first, which had only a short message on it.

"Maybe this will make you feel better," I read. "Sincerely, Archmagi Cedrick Van Dyke (your neighbor and friend ;) )"

The first thought to come to my head was " I didn't know his name was Cedrick". I then focused on the strange title he addressed himself by. " What the heck is an Archmagi?" I asked nobody in particular. I decided it wasn't important and instead focused on the other items that were in the box. The postcard appeared to be nothing special, just a postcard with a photo of Mt. Everest surrounded by bold red letters proudly proclaiming, "Wish you were here".

"Yeah right," I said to myself. As if I could afford a trip to Nepal. Even if I could, sun and sand were much more my forte than cold and snow. But heck, anywhere was better than Virginia. I put the post card down and picked up the hand puppet. It appeared to be made of high quality plush, with stitching so fine it was barely noticeable. I couldn't help but smile a bit at the puppet's adorably playful expression, ready to pounce on anything that moved. Or hug it. On the back was attached a sticky note.

"P.S. His name is Charlie", the message read. I couldn't help but smile a little bit. Sure, a cash donation would have been far more useful, but maybe "Charlie" could keep me company as my life took a one-way ticket to hell. I put my hand in him and he pounced on some of the assorted junk and food wrappers scattered about my living room.

"Charlie's gonna help me clean up." I squeaked in a high-pitched voice, moving him with my hand as I spoke. Together we hopped around the living room as Charlie "pounced" on the soft layer of garbage that had accumulated over six years of not giving a crap. Doritos bags, empty Dr. Pepper cans, and broken Xbox controllers that I had forgotten existed were all items that Charlie helped pick up. As we tag-teamed to pick up an old Sesame street VHS tape box set that I found at a yard sale 3 years ago, I realized that I hadn't cleaned up after myself in months, maybe even years. The spot right in front of the old couch where I watched TV in my off hours was the only spot not covered in a layer of filth. The old man-or Cedrick I guess his name was, may have actually had a point by gifting me this stupid puppet. Charley was honestly the most enjoyable companion I've had in a long time. Heck, I was even having fun as I I crouched my legs back and prepared to jump onto a soda can about five feet away.

"You ready, Charlie?" I asked the hand puppet perched on my right hand.

"Yeah! Let's hunt the garbage! I mouthed back in my squeaky voice. I felt the muscles in my legs tense up as I prepared to jump. I pushed off the ground and soared through the air, landing on my hands and knees, the hand with the puppet clasped around the can. Wrapping Charlie's stubby paws around the soda can, I picked it up and carried it to the trash can, dropping it inside with a thud. I sighed with relief; the last piece of junk picked up.

"Yay, we did it!" I squeaked, waving Charley around happily. Sure, picking up all the junk just revealed that the ugly blue carpet needed to be replaced and probably burned, but I'd take any sort of progress. It must've been good exercise too because every muscle in my body seemed to ache and cramp, particularly the ones in my legs and my puppet hand. I decided to leave Charley on the counter and treat myself to a soft drink from the fridge.

On my way over, however, I was suddenly seized with a splitting migraine, causing me to clutch my head in pain. My head felt like it was ripping apart, with the most intense pain occurring right behind my eyes. Something in between a yelp and a howl escaped my lips as I closed my eyes to escape the pain. It felt like an Earthquake in my skull. I doubled over as I clawed at my forehead, trying to reach into my skull and relieve myself of the torment.

Just as quickly as it appeared, it went away, I slowly released my head from it's death grip and steadily opened my eyes. My gaze caught the reflective surface of the refrigerator, and my heart sailed into my throat.

Something was wrong. My eyes had changed, they seemed unnatural, inhuman. My normally blue eyes had taken on a greenish tint to them, and the shape of them had changed. They appeared rounder, almost like the eyes of a feral feline. The slight nearsightedness in my left eye was gone, replaced with a surprising clarity and improved focus. But that was far from the weirdest part. The weirdest part was that they appeared to be... glowing? A mysterious ice blue mist seemed to encase the area around my eyeline, tendrils snaking out into the air and around my body. The glow seemed to be originating from the spot on the counter where I had put the hand puppet away. I turned around and was greeted with a scene out of a horror movie.

"Charlie" was levitating. And glowing. Two qualities one would not normally associate with hand puppets. His eyes appeared to be burning from a blue fire deep within, strangely feeling cold and hot at the same time. I let out I yelp as a beheld the supernatural phenomena before me, backing up against the cabinets. A pan fell clattered on the tile but I didn't hear it. Whatever foreign magic was animating the puppet appeared to be affecting me as well, my hands and legs enshrouded by the mysterious luminescence. Panic began to bubble up inside of me as a caught a glimpse of the hand that had wielded the puppet if you could even call it a hand. The fingers had shortened and twisted into an inhuman shape, callouses rising like a freshly baked pizza crust on my palm and "fingers". I was rendered paralyzed at the sight, only my thoughts having any movement to them.

"Did the old man do this?" I thought, memories of earlier bubbling up to the surface of my panic ridden mind. I thought of the conversation we had and felt a deep pang of guilt as I remembered what I had said to him. He hadn't appeared fazed by my harsh words earlier, but was that because he was plotting some sort of twisted revenge scheme? He had signed his letter "Archmagi Cedrick." Maybe he wasn't as senile as I thought. I realized I should probably apologize before he zapped me to the phantom zone or some eighth level of hell. The idea sent a cold shiver down my spine.

I suddenly snapped into action as I sprung up onto my feet with surprising agility. Calloused feet clutched the tile floor of my kitchen as I frantically tried to get to the front door. My feet weren't cooperating properly, seemingly taking every chance in hades to trip me up even before I got out of the kitchen. A painful crack in my right foot that finally forced my attention away from the door and onto this new source of misery. Balancing myself against the kitchen island, I lifted my foot to inspect for visible damage. What filled my vision filled my heart with dread. My foot had elongated and enlarged to almost twice its normal size, bones horribly misshapen to inhuman proportions. I winced as I felt black, deadly claws begin to push their way through my swollen toes, the toenails sliding off like butter from a knife. New muscles and blood vessels twitched and sprang to life underneath my bare skin. Seeing my foot in this state was horrific enough, but at least I could shut my eyes and pretend it wasn't there. However, the constant jolts of searing pain shooting up my leg wouldn't let me, sending constant reminders that the torment was indeed real. Literal 8 inch long hooked daggers were shoving their way out of my flesh, and my body let me know it, my nerves sending a constant alarm to my beleaguered brain.

It filled my body with a sense of urgency as I let go of the island and tried to to hop on one leg to the door. I only made it a couple steps before a new pain racked my body, this time coming from my hands. I clasped my wrists as I let out a hefty barrage of cursing, ending with an animalistic growl. My hands were following the same procedure as my feet, hooked steak knives forcing their way through my fingers and displacing my fingernails. The pain caused me to fall on my recently cleaned floor, rolling around as I unleashed a barrage of extremities that could have sunk a ship. By the time the pain subsided, tears were rolling down my face and I had thought multiple times about grabbing a kitchen knife and ended the torture. Instead I slowly rolled to my feet and continued my painful quest towards the front door.

If only Cedrick could hear me out, I thought, then maybe I could be spared from whatever nightmare he had chosen to inflict upon me. "I was angry that I didn't get the job and wasn't thinking straight" is what I would say. I'd take it all back. I'd apologize, grovel, heck, I'd mow his lawn and wash his car for the rest of my life if only he could forgive me and end this nonsense. I finally reached the front door and tried to open my gateway to freedom. The stupid handle wasn't budging. after trying to jiggle it frantically for a few seconds, I gave up and tried to figure out the problem.

To my shock and dismay, the problem turned out not to be with the doorknob, but with my hand. Turns out it's hard to open doors when your thumbs decide to jump ship and your mitts are now the size of dinner plates. My fingers appeared to have lost all dexterity, flexing them now serving only to unleash the black, wicked daggers that retracted seamlessly in and out of my hand. Heck, it was now more like a paw than a hand. A very large cat's paw but without the fur. To my chagrin the mutilations appeared to have affected both of my upper appendages, proving escape though the door impossible.

Oddly enough the first complaint to file its way through my cerebellum was not the sudden closure of my escape route but the sobering realization that one cannot operate a tv remote without thumbs. I had put out a pretty penny for my 75 incher, and it was the only luxury possession that had not been sold to pay the bills after I lost my job. I depended on that thing with my life, and I was not willing to give up ESPN without a fight. I clumsily clutched the remote in my paws, holding it against my chest like a child would their favorite stuffed animal. There wasn't much I could do, however, as the puppet's magic began to intensify, almost as if it knew I was close to escaping. The tendrils of magic wrapped around my body with a surprising solidity to them; I could not escape their binds even as I struggled furiously. The only thing I could do was slouch against the wall and ponder my fate as Cedrick's magic took hold.

The supernatural light display intensified around my legs and torso. A throbbing itching sensation emerged from my feet, although not nearly as painful as the ones that gripped my hands and feet. An intense wave of heat washed over my body as I continued to struggle uselessly against the whims of my elderly neighbor. As I helplessly watched, what appeared to be white and stone-gray hairs began popping up on my horribly mutilated feet, soon covering them in a soft but thick coat of fur. It was nearly impossible to resist scratching my hairy heels but the grip of the magic wouldn't let me relieve the burning itch. With the addition of fur, my impossibly disfigured human feet began to look like the perfectly normal hind paws of a large cat, and I pieced together what was happening.

Somehow, despite all reason and countless natural laws, I was transforming into an animal. A beast. As the insufferable itching sensation crawled its way up my legs and reached my thighs, it became increasingly obvious which animal Cedrick was intending to make me. Only one animal had that distinct spotted yellowish-gray pelt, and a hand puppet of one was currently levitating over the kitchen counter casting the curse of spell that was doing this to me. I was turning into a Himalayan Snow Leopard.

This glaring revelation made me thrash and contort against the powerful spell Cedrick had inflicted on me, and it finally seemed to grant me some leeway, allowing me to stand up on my shaky hind legs. The beginnings of a tail sprouting over the top of my shorts confirmed I was indeed exchanging my humanity for another form. I briefly ceased my struggles as I watched it grow with a childlike fascination, the rippling, pulsing skin and muscle quickly concealed by the same thick, fluffy pelt that covered my legs. It twitched and flicked about as if it had a mind of its own, but newly formed nerves and the sensation of fur brushing against the carpet confirmed that this strange new limb was indeed mine.

It brought a sobering realization to my mind. I had a tail. A frickin' cat's tail. Humans were not supposed to have tails. Yet here it was, attached to my butt, swaying with carefree vigor. The new, foreign sensations filling my brain made me feel sick to my stomach, but it was far from over. I let out something between a howl and a yelp as I felt a new wave of sensations cover my face. I hunched over as my head felt like it was going to explode. My noggin felt like it was being pulled, pushed, and smooshed in every direction, like I was a mound of play-doh being sculpted by an invisible toddler. My nose and mouth went forwards, my ears went up, and my forehead went down as the top of my head flattened out. It was surprisingly less painful than the torturous nightmare from before, suggesting that either endorphins or the magic had decided to do me a favor and ease my suffering. I leaned towards the former, as I doubted a curse would be courteous enough to spare me of my misery.

That changed quickly, however, as the nagging itch from my legs hit my head like a brick wall, burning a hole in my skull as I clawed at the space my ears used to occupy, desperate to find relief. I caught the scent of blood as claws scraped at flesh, but I didn't care and kept up my frantic scratching. I felt like I was on fire from the waves of heat enveloping my body. A bestial growl escaped my blackening lips, a guttural sound no human could have made. My nose grew pink and leathery as a furry muzzle extended from my face. My light brown hair fell off my human head in clumps. The sight of my nose in front of me and a pile of hair on the floor made me stop scratching as I let out a fearful mew. My mouth felt foreign and unnatural as the dagger-like teeth of an apex predator pushed through my gums, causing me to cough as bloody human teeth fell to the carpet. Panic filled my mind, my thinking bits unable to register all the changes that were happening at once. I collapsed to my knees and let out a feral cry of confusion and agony. Why was this happening to me?

The pain had given way to exhaustion and I submitted to the supernatural powers reshaping my body. I splayed out on the floor in exhaustion, letting the changes wash over me. Almost immediately I felt my arms beginning to build up muscle and slowly reshape into a quadrupedal stance suitable for the form I was increasingly taking on. My legs did the same, causing my pants to rip and tear. My chest and torso barreled out as my shoulders narrowed. The once bone-crushing pain had slowly begun to fade into a quiet tingling sensation as the remnants of my humanity were stripped away. I pressed my eyes shut, trying to shut out the reality that affirmed my fate. I lost my job. I lost my reputation. And now I had finally lost the one thing I had left: my humanity.

It didn't work. Even as my eyes were squeezed tight, new and inhuman senses kicked into overdrive, and I was bombarded with thousands of scents, sounds, and sensations from body parts that shouldn't exist. Eventually I had to give in to the fact that my house smelled so badly of microwave pizza and 3 month old gym socks that it physically hurt and slowly opened my eyes. The magical glow had appeared to die down considerably, which I took as a signal that I was free to move about as I pleased. I carefully balanced myself on all four legs with as much grace as a toddler learning to walk. I looked down at my new front legs, concealed behind a thick coat of spotted gray fur. What was once my hands were now feline paws the size of dinner plates armed with claws that looked eager to cut and shred anything that moved. No way they would be able to function as human hands as long as they stayed like that.
Which meant that any plan to escape or call for help was thwarted as soon as I got to the door. Not like anyone would help a feral beast of death whose natural habitat was thousands of miles away anyways.

I reasoned that the only way to return to the form I was born in was through the one that had presumably cast the spell, Cedrick the old man next door. I had mixed feelings about Cedrick. On one hand, I wanted to be as nice as possible to him so I could get my ESPN back, and do whatever it takes to regain my thumbs. On the other hand, he was an evil monster who deserved to die for doing this to me and I just so happened to have recently acquired a pair of death mittens itching to be used. I disregarded the latter option as he could probably disintegrate me into a pile of furry ash before I laid a paw on him. Apology and groveling would have to be the way to go. I really did feel bad for my outburst earlier, and I hoped my apology would lead him to turn me back. That's how it works in the movies, right? The main character learns some sort of lesson like "be nice to others" or "don't be a complete jerk" and boom, back to human. Well I wasn't a fool, and I was going to learn my lesson right away. Brimming with confidence at this newfound plan, I strode towards the front door to begin my quest.

It took a surprising amount of pawing at the door and yowling before reason gripped me and I remembered my paws were useless in matters involving dexterity. The torn remnants of my shirt kept sliding up my limbs and getting in my way, which only made matters worse as I growled in frustration. Despite the shards of fabric feeling uncomfortable, itchy, and hot, I refused to claw it off and resign myself to being a full-fledged animal. My shorts were already splayed out on the floor, revealing my feline butt in all its naked, spotted glory. The fact that my sensitive areas were shamelessly covered in nothing but fur already made me feel flush with embarrassment. I wasn't giving up any more articles of clothing, at least willingly.

My hind paws kept slipping on the hardwood, so I gave up trying the door and wound up wandering aimlessly around my former house, pondering my fate. Already the messy, scattered items I had once used daily felt like they belonged to somebody else. Somebody with a far messier lifestyle than I thought, apparently. Who knew old gym shorts smelled this bad? I couldn't even enter my bedroom due to the rancid odor of dirty socks and bedsheets that had gone unwashed for months.

What the heck was Cedrick thinking keeping me trapped like this without a method of escape? Did he intend for me to die of starvation in my own home surrounded by twinkies, chocolate crunch bars and Xbox controllers? Maybe he wanted to imprison me in a zoo for the rest of my life. What was his endgame?

I realized that question would've been better left unanswered as I detected a glow coming once again from the kitchen. I scampered into my kitchen, claws sliding on the tile as I saw the magic once again begin to heat up, this time centered around the postcard that had shown up in Cedrick's package as well. I struggled simultaneously to find purchase on the smooth floor and keep my eyes glued on the glowing artifact, ultimately settling for crashing into the cabinets and collapsing into a fuzzy heap. As my eyes refocused on the postcard, I watched it slowly levitate into the air and attach itself against the far wall of my living room. The words and borders disappeared in a flash of light as the postcard suddenly grew into an enormous plane, concealing the plaster and store-bought picture frames. It appeared to consume the wall as I cowered against the cabinets, my body throwing danger signals at me like bricks against my brain. My human mind and feline instincts finally came to the same conclusion. This was not good.

A tingling shiver crawled down my spine, extending far past my hips as I realized the old man had not intended for me to go to the zoo. He'd bought me a one-way ticket to the frozen wastelands of the Himalayas, thousands of miles away from home in the United States. This wasn't a temporary arrangement. He intended to send me to a place I could never return from. I began to caterwaul as a blistering welcoming gift from Asia brushed against my fur coat. This couldn't be happening. I felt the magic begin to pull me towards the wall of inevitable icy death, first a slight tugging at my tail tip but soon increasing to worrisome proportions. I scampered to the farthest corner of my dining room, huddling against the corner to get as far away from it as possible. I let out a wail crying for anyone to help, but it was obvious nobody was going to answer the call of a wild animal, if they even heard me at all.

I dug my claws into the hardwood floors and hoped the kitchen table standing between me and the magical doorway of doom would levy me some cosmic assistance in avoiding my fate. For now it seemed to be working, but for how long?

My rounded eyes grew wide as the portal seemed to acknowledge my resistance and began creeping closer towards my shaking feline body. Apparently, magic does not take no for an answer. I don't know what was more stomach-wrenching. That a reality-warping gate was trying to suck me into it, or that it was eating my house to do so. Literally everything that characterized me as a human being was being gobbled up by the encroaching magic as it marched towards my hiding place. Carpet morphed into ice, furniture fragmenting into rocks or vanishing entirely. I physically wept as the TV that I had spent thousands of lonely hours upon was simply reduced to dust in the wind. Thousands of memories were being wiped out nearly instantaneously as I could do nothing but yowl in my unfamiliar voice.

The pulling sensations intensified as I dug in my claws on all four paws as deep as they could go if only to retain a few more seconds of humanity. As my muscles strained against the fracturing structure of my reality, I caught a glimpse out of the dining room window I was backed up against. It was the only window in my house that had a clear view of Cedrick's, and I saw him standing at his own window, witnessing my torment through the safety of his blinds. The nerve of watching me suffer brought me to a breaking point, and I yelled out a few choice expletives in the feline language, growling and hissing in his general direction to let him know how I felt about all this. It was his fault I was getting sucked into a postcard portal to hell, and he couldn't even spare me the decency of letting me keep my thumbs. I knew it wouldn't be much in the long run, but maybe it would make me feel a bit better once on the other side. Because there'd be no way of ever coming back to Virginia or my old life again.

Oddly enough, as I got a better glimpse of his wrinkled face through the shades, it wasn't contorted into an sadistic smirk as I pictured in my head, laughing at my demise and drinking champagne to the idea that he'd never have to see my face again. Even as my claws began to lose their grip on the floors, causing me to yelp in fear, he looked more like an old grandfather than a psychotic Arch wizard who gets off to watching others suffer. As I stared confusedly at his expression, I lost my grip on the floor and sailed into the magic waiting to consume me. Just before the portal closed, I saw him move his lips, and heard a faint whisper in my head, a voice definitively foreign to my brain. It spoke just a few choice words.

“ This is for the best, kitty.”


         And then with a yowl I slipped into the unknown.


Read chapter 2 here! https://www.furaffinity.net/view/42148575/