Look Both Ways Part I
#1 of Look Both Ways
An unedited 30 minute speed write. If people actually end up liking this, I might expand on it?
Critique welcomed, of course.
(Thumbnail art by maplegold on FA)
Nothing seemed more right than running on that fair spring day. Roy threw back his shaggy mane of red curls and let a contented smile creep across his face as his feet hit the wet pavement. The sharp smell of freshly rained on asphalt mixed enticingly with the smell of damp earth, putting renewed vigor in his stride. Roy chanced a glance over his shoulder at his team mates.
"At this rate, I'll lap you before I'm done!" he mocked before putting on a burst of speed. His friends responded to his taunt with a shout and an increase in speed. Fierce competitive price burned like an ember inside Roy's chest as he too gamely increased his speed. He felt all of his apprehension melting away as he lost himself in his physical exertion. Up and down his body his muscles rippled as he raced across the park paths. So complete was his joy that he lost track of his surroundings and failed to follow the cardinal rule of intersections: Look both ways before you cross the street.
The driver of the beverage truck had very little time to react when he saw a blur of a man emerge from one of the walking paths at the entrance of the park. Panicking, he slammed on his breaks, making his tires squeal. Roy heard the squealing and tried to leap out of the way, but he was too late. The truck driver saw the Roy's face flash an expression of pure terror split seconds before a wet thud reverberated through his truck. . . .
Roy awoke to the sterile soulless light of a hospital coupled with excruciating pain. A faint moan escaped his lips as he vainly tried to open his eyes all the way. He felt his mother's cool hand touch his forearm and stroke it gently.
He heard her voice gently whispering to him, "Don't worry sweetheart, we'll love you no matter what you look like, no matter what happens."
His father's voice came across as a harsh, tear-filled whisper, "Just look both ways when you cross the street at camp, son. These hospital bills are cutting into my car fund."
Roy was slightly confused... he didn't really recall why he was at the hospital, and not back at school, and he had no recollection of signing up for a camp. His tired mind raced down myriad paths that all lead to unconsciousness. . . .
The next time Roy woke up he felt oddly improved. He cautiously cracked his eyes open and looked around. He was still in a very generic hospital room, surrounded by flowers and cards likely sent from family, friends, and classmates. The sun shone in from a solitary window set high up on the wall. His bed was propped up to the point where he was almost sitting on it. He tried to move his head, but was rewarded for his efforts by stabbing pain. To his surprise, his head was firmly secured onto a headrest on the bed. Roy paused and racked his brain for possibly reasons why he was at the hospital, and the vision of the front of a truck screaming towards him leapt into his mind. He was lucky he survived.
Curious, Roy decided to do some damage assessment. His legs and feet felt okay, maybe a little bit scraped up, but he couldn't tell since they were firmly wrapped up in the crisp blank whiteness of the sheets. His torso and rear felt sore, especially near the base of his spine. "I probably broke my tailbone after I got hit," he reasoned. He gingerly lifted up his arm and examined it. To his surprise the part of his arm not covered by the hospital gown was a faint mottled purple-blue color. His fingers were oddly puffy and swollen as well. Roy figured that he had been hit so hard his entire body was going to be bruised. He was about to pull back the gown to see how far the purple went when the door to his room abruptly opened and admitted two harried-looking doctors.
"Good. You're up." One of the doctors unstrapped Roy's head from the bed and the other helped him upright.
"Woah... should I be moving?" Roy asked, suddenly wary of the overly hasty doctors.
"We have to get you out of here before the operation takes full affect," the doctor replied. Suddenly they both grabbed Roy's hands and hauled him to his feet.
Roy felt... odd. The room suddenly reeled about, and an odd tingly feeling radiated down from his head to his toes. His nose started itching fiercely, and Roy felt a burning desire to itch it. As he brought his purpled hand to his face to scratch, it ran into a stubby snout and a cold nose. Immediately terrified, Roy searched desperately for a mirror. He saw his reflection in a bedpan and it only enhanced his terror. Where his once-dashingly handsome face would have been, there was the swiftly morphing face of... of... some animal. And his beautiful red hair was growing yellow and orange strands and traveling down his nose and back.
Roy was pulled from his blind panic by waves of pain from his posterior. To his shock, the back of his hospital gown was lifting under the power of his freshly sprouted tail. The doctors tried to restrain him, shouting things at him that he couldn't understand in his panic. The tingly feelings continued all over his body, almost as if it was waking up from being asleep. As the tingle and tail pain got increasingly more intense, Roy dropped to his knees and screamed. Eventually the pain reached a climax and with a few involuntary jerks, he collapsed and curled up on the floor.
One of the doctors kneeled by him and put a hand on his shoulder apologetically. "I'm sorry, we should have given you more warning, but this was the only thing we could do to save you. Don't worry; we're taking you to a special camp with more of your kind to help you adjust. Just relax and we'll wheel you on your way."
Too shocked to respond, Roy nodded his head in acquiescence and sincerely hoped that this "camp" was going to explain why he had turned into a giant oddly colored half-skunk with a flame stripe down his back.