I stare at my hand. That’s where it starts, in my hand, it twitches, the skin bursts and instead of blood and viscera new skin shows through the seams of my body. It wasn’t human skin, scales, ridges, claws. I flexed my talons, watching the play of muscle under the scaled skin of my arm. I could feel the change taking the rest of my body.
They will know I am coming; they will be boarding their doors, praying to their gods. I suppose I could stop this all. I could take my own life, or move away to some remote lonely place. But the truth is I love it, I don’t want it to stop. Their effort just adds sport.
My mind, my self never disappears, I know what I am doing. But my new form brings with it bloodlust, hunger, and malice. I welcome it. It is time.