Transmorgify

That bastard. What he had done to me was unspeakable. That greasy underfed rodent had done me in, for sure. I watch my feet pace madly about the study as my ears prick, listening for the sound of sirens I feel should be coming. My wristwatch mocks me, ticking away the moments I have left with cold precision.

I pull it from my wrist and throw it harshly against the bookcase. The satisfying crunch and tinkering of glass that sounds makes my gritting teeth smile. Somehow, the destruction of time calms me, and I walk to my oversized recliner and flop intently into it.

Yes, I’ve been given quite the sleazy deal. I find myself trying to swim the proverbial creek without a vessel; much less an oar. I had spent a long hour pondering the repercussions of that wicked betrayer, and now, I knew that I had to formulate a plan to escape this twisted impending fate and exact sweet revenge on the one I had once called friend.

If I left, they would just assume those accusations of my murderous insanity were true. I would spend my days locked in a dark cell until finally time claimed my Everything and I am no more than an offering to the earth. But, I could not stay. No no, dusk was fast approaching, and if they were to find me tonight I would suffer a far worse fate than an undignified death in a dank cage. I gazed around my beautiful study and my heart sank. I refused to leave this wonderful abode and become a lowly fugitive. I would stand firm in my ground, and would have to merely outsmart my enemy.

My lip curls back and my muscles tense. Time for a temporary flight I think. One quick glance out the open window, sweet twilight air brushes my face as I leapt from the thing and landed softly on the Virginia earth. The moon shimmered down like powdered diamond and my skin tightened nervously as I bolted for woods.

--

As I leave my body, my mind flutters back into the recent past, though it now feels like eons and universes away from me. I really should’ve killed him. If I could not erase him completely from ever existing, than taking his life would have been the next best thing. I had loved him. He was my mirror image in personage as well as looks, and though we were not related in the slightest, it would not have taken a lot to mistake the pair of us as twins. He was my brighter bit of solace, a companion and confidant. Instead of the proverbial backstabbing, I feel as though I have suffered a thorough disembowelment, compliments of those long and thin fingers on the hands he waves so energetically as he speaks.

Anger boils from somewhere outside my mind and the fuse of inner circuitry blows. Darkness creeps around my thoughts like the black velvet of the sky above, stars wink out above me and consciousness falls lightly as a feather.

--

My eyes pry themselves open in the morning sun. The musky soil drowns my newly retained sense of smell and pulls me immediately back into a conscious state. I become instantaneously aware of my limbs, now feeling firmly in my own skin. I flex my fingers to make sure they are mine again, and wince as pain slides all up my arm. I pull my hand to my eyes and wiggle the digits. Dirt is caked under my short fingernails and red scratches stand out against my mud covered cream skin. I manage enough will to pull myself to my feet. I’m acutely aware that I have no shoes on and that my jacket is gone save a single tattered sleeve as I begin to walk back to my home in the morning mist.

Each step is hell on my sore muscles but my thoughts become captivated again with my little dilemma. Firstly, there is always the task of reentering my house unnoticed. One odd glance at my dirtied and tattered shambling form on the doorstep after being out in the elements all night could raise a bit of unwanted suspicion. Thankfully, I’m fortunate enough to not have nosey neighbors. Approaching the house, I can see nothing outside that says anyone is in my home. I imagine the police came and left, seeing that I was not to be found. To be sure, I decide to sneak in through the backdoor instead. Sliding the key into the door, I let myself onto my porch and into the den. No voices emanate from the large two story residence and I decide it’s safe to go on.

It became quite clear someone had pilfered through my belongings in the living room. Mail and papers were a bit disheveled, and desk drawers were pulled partially open. It was no matter. Everything I owned of any consequence isn’t so readily attainable. I trudge myself up the stairs into the bath. The water runs hot and I pull off my tattered fabric. I should’ve worn something less valuable, but it’s too late for that now. The mirror catches my attention and my stomach curdles. My faced is caked with more than mud, and I know the brown dried blood covering it is not my own. Amber eyes glint at me and I shudder. I waste no time in jumping in the bathe and scrubbing the offending stuff from my skin.

Clean enough, I towel off and pull fresh clothes from my chest of drawers. They don’t fit as well anymore. These pants were made for a healthy figure. I had always been lean, but now my figure was little more than skin stretched over thin muscle and bone. My pants slunk past my jutting hip bones before I could restrain them with a thin belt. The sleeves on the clean white shirt swallowed my slender wrists and slid up to my palms. Another quick glance in the mirror as I grab the ripped fabric I had taken off earlier. A much different man stood before me. Clean, shaven, and well dressed. But the eyes were the same. Those same amber eyes still shone mockingly. I trash the tattered clothing, making a mental not to burn it later as I walk into the kitchen. Unfortunately, I don’t have the stomach to eat, and I can guess why.