Week 5, Title: Pupate
Jan. 15th, 2016 09:44 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
swirlsofpurpleThe outside only worsens Gordon’s troubled stomach and he stumbles back in. Forgoing his guests he staggers upstairs. He’ll need to apologise to them later. His room is different, odd smells spring from every surface. He wonders briefly if something crawled in and died, but knows it’s not that. Gordon has never noticed before how utterly lacking in smells of any kind his room usually is. Now it’s alive; the pulpy wood of his desk; the soft feathered down; the socks in his hamper are a nightmare. He doesn’t recognise most of them scents, they are new.
Gordon sits on his bed, holding his hand over his nose. Time only makes it worse. He hears the people downstairs leaving. He should go down and say goodbye. He doesn’t. Gordon looks at the bandage on his leg. Maybe it’s infected and that’s causing his sickness. He delicately pries away the white gauze. He stares in shock. No evidence of the bite remains. Not even a notion of a scar.
It must have been smaller than he thought. Just a little scratch and now it’s healed. He throws the bandage in the bin and goes back to the bed, curling up and rocking slightly. Night falls but the fullness of the moon casts a luminescent hue over the room.
His beard has grown, hair engulfs his face. And his arms. And his legs. What is happening? Something is wrong, very, very wrong. He should call an ambulance. Something was in the bite, he’s hallucinating. He doesn’t call. A kernel deep down tells him it’s something else. His teeth are suddenly too large for his mouth, white shards jockey with themselves for position, pushing outwards.
What is going on?
His limbs begin to change form. No. No, this isn’t real. Teeth and hair make sense somehow, in their ever changing state. But not this, this is too far, too much.
The body is another thing. It’s inside out, not itself, not human. He is not himself.
*
The second full moon is easier. He knows what’s coming. It’s inevitable and painless. He’s prepared, mentally ready and physically locked up. The moon comes and goes as does his dual form.
By the third transformation the physical aspect of it is little more than an inconvenience. It holds no place of relevance to his life.
By the fourth Gordon is beginning to realise that the physical aspect is far from all there is.
*
The file sticks out under his nose and Gordon turns to the hand holding it and pushing it towards him. It’s not on Gordon’s plate, but that’s politics of the workplace for you. And he’s always happy to help. That’s how he’s gotten so far. He does what needs to be done.
“Can’t you deal with this yourself,” Gordon snaps.
His co-worker recoils, in surprise.
“Sorry, I’m having a bad day,” Gordon says, with a placating smile.
“I’ll give it to someone else.”
“No, give it here, I’ll do it.”
*
It’s not an isolated incident. Soon his colleagues’ friendly enquiries turn to weary stares.
Gordon tries to be himself, but the urges overpower him. Apologies mean little once repeated over and over.
His physical transformation is perfunctory. His mental transformation is abhorrent.
He leaves his job. It’s too much of a reminder of all he’s lost.
*
His friends come around and he doesn’t know why.
At first with overtures, concern, offers of help.
His friendly smile isn’t real; he feels no friendship for these people. Wilderness and cruelty flush through his veins. It’s a struggle to say hello. His compassion is gone.
Soon their gazes turn cold too.
He keeps trying to be the person he was. He imagines himself too nostalgically he thinks, was he ever really that happy, friendly person?
He leaves his friends. It’s too much of a reminder of all he has.
*
He mourns for the human creature he once was and is now only pretending to be.
Then comes a time he feels no need to mourn. He slowly comes to accept this state.
He is the wild. He is teeth and claw and bite.
He is himself no more.
Gordon sits on his bed, holding his hand over his nose. Time only makes it worse. He hears the people downstairs leaving. He should go down and say goodbye. He doesn’t. Gordon looks at the bandage on his leg. Maybe it’s infected and that’s causing his sickness. He delicately pries away the white gauze. He stares in shock. No evidence of the bite remains. Not even a notion of a scar.
It must have been smaller than he thought. Just a little scratch and now it’s healed. He throws the bandage in the bin and goes back to the bed, curling up and rocking slightly. Night falls but the fullness of the moon casts a luminescent hue over the room.
His beard has grown, hair engulfs his face. And his arms. And his legs. What is happening? Something is wrong, very, very wrong. He should call an ambulance. Something was in the bite, he’s hallucinating. He doesn’t call. A kernel deep down tells him it’s something else. His teeth are suddenly too large for his mouth, white shards jockey with themselves for position, pushing outwards.
What is going on?
His limbs begin to change form. No. No, this isn’t real. Teeth and hair make sense somehow, in their ever changing state. But not this, this is too far, too much.
The body is another thing. It’s inside out, not itself, not human. He is not himself.
*
The second full moon is easier. He knows what’s coming. It’s inevitable and painless. He’s prepared, mentally ready and physically locked up. The moon comes and goes as does his dual form.
By the third transformation the physical aspect of it is little more than an inconvenience. It holds no place of relevance to his life.
By the fourth Gordon is beginning to realise that the physical aspect is far from all there is.
*
The file sticks out under his nose and Gordon turns to the hand holding it and pushing it towards him. It’s not on Gordon’s plate, but that’s politics of the workplace for you. And he’s always happy to help. That’s how he’s gotten so far. He does what needs to be done.
“Can’t you deal with this yourself,” Gordon snaps.
His co-worker recoils, in surprise.
“Sorry, I’m having a bad day,” Gordon says, with a placating smile.
“I’ll give it to someone else.”
“No, give it here, I’ll do it.”
*
It’s not an isolated incident. Soon his colleagues’ friendly enquiries turn to weary stares.
Gordon tries to be himself, but the urges overpower him. Apologies mean little once repeated over and over.
His physical transformation is perfunctory. His mental transformation is abhorrent.
He leaves his job. It’s too much of a reminder of all he’s lost.
*
His friends come around and he doesn’t know why.
At first with overtures, concern, offers of help.
His friendly smile isn’t real; he feels no friendship for these people. Wilderness and cruelty flush through his veins. It’s a struggle to say hello. His compassion is gone.
Soon their gazes turn cold too.
He keeps trying to be the person he was. He imagines himself too nostalgically he thinks, was he ever really that happy, friendly person?
He leaves his friends. It’s too much of a reminder of all he has.
*
He mourns for the human creature he once was and is now only pretending to be.
Then comes a time he feels no need to mourn. He slowly comes to accept this state.
He is the wild. He is teeth and claw and bite.
He is himself no more.
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no subject
Date: 2016-01-18 08:54 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2016-01-18 08:56 pm (UTC)