Skin stretched over my starved ribs, spine, and hipbones, making stitches tear. Painfully, I decided to
pull the scales aside, hoping to find my speckled
skin remaining underneath. I groaned as capillaries
snapped and blood oozed from the wound. The scales
had already fused with the under layers of my skin,
confirming my worst fear: This was permanent.
I slowly moved my hands to my forearms, and
flinched at the sensitivity that remained under the top
layer o f tough scales. The gashes cut into my arms still
lingered unseen under my new shell. Who had saved
me? If you could call this saving… And why would
they do this to save a girl who had killed herself?
‘Meeting Kurt’
Darcy Garland
I continued out of the village and trudged up the path that
would carry me through the small wood to reach my cottage on the other side. The woods always looked different
at night, as if the daytime trees and creatures have gone
to bed and sent more ominous versions of themselves
to stand guard. The occasional hoot of a hidden owl was
the only sound to permeate the silence. That suddenly
changed as a rustle of dead leaves awoke me from my
dreamy trance. Judging by the loudness of the rustling
something large had made the noise. A human or maybe a
dog.
Once again I continued, my heart rate slightly faster than
before. I made it five paces and then the harsh snap of a
twig made me whip my head around. I squinted through
the gloom, nothing. I stepped off the path and waited
behind a large oak tree. I waited and waited. I cupped one
hand behind my left ear. Someone was moving out there
and they were getting closer.
“Goodnight Tom” I slurred to my fellow drinking companion as I stepped out of the cosy interior of the local
tavern ‘The Dog and Duck’. The icy night air hit me
like a Floyd “Money” Mayweather haymaker. Not that
he’d thrown any tonight, the pub had been packed
with locals who’d come to watch the ‘once in a lifetime
match’.
My breathing was shallow and rapid. All symptoms of
intoxication had retreated. The footsteps neared. I tried
to flee but my legs were too heavy to move. I was frozen to
the spot. I clenched my fists and crouched behind the tree.
The footsteps indicated the stranger was about 40 feet
away. I Inhaled deeply. There was only one option; take
them by surprise.
I glanced up and was pleased to see a glowing orb
illuminating the night sky and outshining the surrounding stars which themselves stood out among an
ocean of inky blackness. At least the full moon would
guide me on my mile-long trek back to the cottage. I
sighed deeply. Began to walk, with every step I had to
concentrate on keeping my balance.
I listened intently. The man’s breath became audible.
He was five feet away when I leapt up. He shouted in
astonishment as I took an almighty swing with my bare
knuckles. My fist connected with the bastard’s nose. He
crashed to the floor, crimson blossoming from his beak. I
raised my fist once more but let my arm fall loosely when I
looked into the man’s face.
It had been a rowdy night at the pub which was
hardly surprising when there was a large number of
males gathered in a small building with alcohol and
a boxing match on the telly. A few of the younger
men appeared as if they were about to engage in their
own boxing match. I didn’t want to get caught up in a
tavern brawl and was too old for that sort of thing, so I
called it a night.
“Tom?” I gasped incredulously. “What the bloody hell are
you doing?”
“I should be asking you that,” he growled, climbing to his
feet. “I was looking for you.” He held his hand out. “Rodney you numpty, you left your wallet in the pub.”
The silence of the streets was an eerie contrast to
the primal noises emanating from the tavern, now a
good 200 yards back. As I approached the edge of the
village a scuffing sound made me turn to see a booted
leg disappearing behind the corner of the last house.
All the lights were out. It was suspicious that someone
was moving about at midnight. Probably just some
noddy letting his mangy cat out I thought, dismissing any fear of the dark. This was hardly what you’d
call dark anyway, the moonlight providing more than
enough luminance for me to see my path.