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A Fleeting Moment (Part 2)

_ by K9 Lupus _

Ever feeling lonely? Our team of agents at Companion Station value what you have to say. TEXT - 54725 to (308)-4...

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...And Manson takes the ball down the court and looks like he's going all the way!

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In other news, reports of a strange creature roaming near the market district of East Mableton have been continuing to come in. Residents are advised by wildlife control official to stay indoors and to not leave pets unattended outside until the claims can be refuted or verified. More on this story at 7!

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I can't listen to this crud anymore. I need to go for a walk.

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I decided to try going by Frank's place one last time. It had now been weeks since he had answered back any of my calls and I was reaching my limit with him. Pushing me aside like this isn't the way for him to deal with getting let go from his job. I've only been trying to help.

To my surprise, the lights were on when I passed by his apartment, but the blinds were drawn closed. Looping around the back of the building I could see that his room was dark with the window wide open. I crept up to the window and had a peek inside, but couldn't make out much in the darkness.

"Uh...Frank? Hellooooooo?" I inquired as I knocked on the glass. No one answered.

There wouldn't be a better chance than right now to figure out what was going on. I vaulted inside and landed on the ground with a crunch beneath my feet as I fumbled my way trying to remember where the light switch was. I bumped my leg against a chair that hadn't been pushed in and shortly after discovered the smooth feeling of marble hinting that I had tracked down my goal. Flipping the light on, I was left aghast at the state of his room.

It had become a proverbial rat's nest, with scraps of food littered between heaps of scattered drawings. All the drawings were of the same large lizard. Some were climbing or curled contentedly atop a rock. Others were engaged in a chase with prey. All were masterfully done in rich, black ink. There were pages upon pages of eyes, feet, and tails. I remember Frank showing me some of his drawings before, but these were incredible. A heaping thump was heard at the other side of the room as a dark shape suddenly crawled its way inside. It was the same lizard as the drawing I held in my hand now brought to life.

Frozen in fear, I could only stare into the golden ring of the creature's eye as it assessed me, then watched something more enter its gaze. Its focus on me sharpened, and it flicked out a long, forked tongue in my direction. I slowly backed up, avoiding any sudden movements as I felt for the knob of the bedroom door. Then the sharpness of its gaze faded back and the hulking lizard turned away from me without any further regard. It heaved the bulk of its body up onto the chair I had bumped earlier, then swiped a fresh stack of papers to the ground. Its head swung back and forth as it scanned the new pile, and then settling on one page in particular, laid its body down as the end of its lengthy tail curling with an almost fervent anticipation. To my amazement, the large lizard-creature raised one of its forefeet up towards a small, open glass jar and with careful precision dipped one of its claws into the dark liquid it contained. Studying the amount of ink with an inquisitive eye, it made a smooth stroke onto a blank sheet of paper as it began to draw.

"No way...Frank? Is that you?"

At the mention of his name, Frank hoisted his head up to me and his in-progress piece became marred as his ink-laden claw dragged itself across the page. He cared little for his ruined image, instead having his reptilian lips pull back into his best approximation of a smile with that vivid sharpness from before returning to his eyes.

********

Learning of Frank's plight was only the beginning. Although he could not speak, he was able to slowly write notes, forming shaky letters with his claws. It was much easier for him to speak to me with pictures, and from his messages I was able to piece together the strange series of events that had resulted in his transformation.I went one day to the spot he had mentioned to see if there might be some way to reverse Frank's change, but all that was left at the end of the alley was an abandoned pile of rubble and fractured wood.

When I wasn't there visiting him, Frank was still utterly engrossed in his obsession. Hoping to break his fixation on these lizards I brought by new images of different creatures from magazines I had at home. Maybe by participating with him a bit and then stopping I could show him that drawing didn't need to be his entire world. I grabbed a brush in one of his drawers and settled on attempting to depict a bird-of-paradise inspecting a nearby branch for a potential grub treat.

Dipping the brush into the pool of ink, my thoughts grew hazy and unfocused, but my hand continued to apply stroke after stroke onto the page. It was as if I was sitting in the front row of a show performed by me, both creator and witness. Before long, a beautiful interpretation of the image in the magazine had emerged and Frank gave a gentle bump of his head against my shoulder in approval as he leaned forward to get a better look. I didn't know I had such talent.

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With time, I too began to succumb to the allure of the enchanted ink. Russet feathers had sprouted from my arms and an assemblage of dark green now peppered my throat. I kept a lengthening yellow plume tipped in white growing from behind concealed as best I could manage. Dark, rigid, scales had replaced the soft skin of my feet, and I still hadn't quite gotten used to the short beak I kept hidden beneath a lavender handkerchief wrapped around my mouth as I traveled to and from Frank's apartment.

Fighting the urges was an ordeal. To draw became an addiction with the most wonderful relief when that growing need was satiated. When I looked at myself in my bedside mirror one evening and saw the human white of my eyes replaced with a bright gold framed around a dark center, I knew I had to take action before I became as lost as Frank was. I went to the hardware store that day and through squinted, downcast eyes bought nine lock boxes with nine separate keys. At home I stashed the boxes all throughout the house with a single key in each and the word "Don't." attached to it on an index card. The key to Frank's apartment was placed in the last of the sequence along with a picture of myself from when I was fully human. I called Frank's place that night and let him know I wouldn't be coming by for some time.

********

On the first day I had opened five boxes before forcing myself to stop by making some dinner. The next day was better; only three opened that day. The third day I had accidentally stumbled on seeing the last box and opened the others so I could see my picture inside. That's what I told myself, but I caught myself halfway out the door before I hurled the keys to Frank's onto the couch and squawked a cry of frustration. On the fourth day I tried drawing with regular pencils I had around the house, but it wasn't the same as that ink that I craved which brought out so much more in me. I didn't sleep all that night, my mind flurrying with new ideas for all of the pieces I could be creating.

By the fifth day, I was mentally drained and physically exhausted. For what reason was I putting myself through such torture? That night I opened all nine of the boxes, grabbed his key, and made my way back to his apartment. As I was about to turn the key into the lock, I saw the picture of me, as a human and smiling bouncing on the chain. That part of me was lost now. Or did it need to be? I crumpled into a heap at his doorstep and sobbed at my indecision. I do not know by what strength inside me I was able to stand up and walk away from his door. On the sixth day I was delighted to wake up and see my beak was much smaller and my feathers were starting to recede across my shoulders and back. By nightfall my sharp talons were already starting to shape themselves into more blunted nails.

The seventh day was best of all. More than a couple times I rushed to the bathroom just to be sure that the white of my human eyes were still there.

After another week of my forced exclusion, only minuscule fragments of my descent had remained: a small feathery patch here, a few scales there, a shallow bump at the end of my spine; all were things I could manage. With confidence guiding my choice I opened the nine boxes once more and headed over to Frank to tell him of the good news.

Opening the door, I was shocked to see that the apartment looked as though a hurricane had passed through. Papers and objects were scattered everywhere and the furniture was littered with claw marks. The fridge was bare, its door open and letting a cool breeze filter throughout the kitchen. On his counter, the red light of his answering machine flicked on and off from the still unchecked message I had sent earlier today.

"Frank? Frank! Are you ok? Where are you?!"

With a shuffle and a series of bumps heard in the direction of his room I raced over and saw standing there at his window was Frank. He too had done what he had needed to in this time, although for him it appeared to have been much harder. He was standing upright on legs that still splayed out a bit on either side of his body, and although he was still covered in patterned scales, the physique of a human man had begun to return. He turned to me and saw me, then smiled with the end of his tail sliding through papers on the floor.

"Jaaaannaaaa." he voiced through a long flick of his tongue. I ran over to him and gave him the biggest hug I think I've ever given anyone my whole life.

Outside their window two birds chirped sweetly to each other. They stood on either end of the nest they were building, deciding which twig would best fit where. The sun was warm at his back, but for Frank, Janna was even warmer. The two, now joined as one in their embrace, were content to listen and feel the other's heartbeat. And for a time, a fleeting moment of time they have need of nothing else.