As decided by vote, here's the next challenge, proposed by Nyctophobia457:

Write a scene where the character transforms into another creature. For example, they transform an animal or a hideous monster.

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3 Answers 3


Not if you were the last man on earth

She had said it with a smile, as if it pleased her to twist the knife. And yet he couldn't get over her.

In the days after Barry had retreated into his hobby to distract himself. Roaming the antiques shops in town whenever he had the time.

It was a strange hobby for a boy his age, and perhaps if she knew it would be another reason for Michelle to reject him. But it reminded him of simpler, better times, when his family visited his grandmother over the holidays. Her antique shop had always been a place of innumerable wonders to him when he was younger.

Barry picket up a bracelet. It sparkled like gold and had an elegant design with symbols engraved all around. Maybe she'd like that. But no, he should stop thinking about her. She'd been clear enough she wasn't interested.

"Looking for a gift for your girlfriend?"

Barry spun around. Behind him stood an older lady, smiling.

"Uh. No. I..." He put the bracelet back down.

The shopkeeper looked at it. "I'd be careful with that. It's a big promise to give someone."

He'd been about to walk away, but curiosity stalled him. "What do you mean?"

She picked up the bracelet and pointed at the symbols. "This isn't just decoration. It's a vow in ancient Sumerian that the giver promises to be the kind of person the other can love."

"That doesn't sound so bad. Sounds rather sweet, actually. Wait, Sumerian? You mean it's thousands of years old?"

"Oh, no, no, no. See these symbols here? They say 'made in China'." It was small, but plain English.

"So what's the worry then? Even if I believed in magic, this is just a replica."

She shrugged. "A promise is a promise."

Something about it spoke to Barry. It reflected how he felt about her. "How much is it?"

"$29 and your immortal soul." She smiled. "Do you want me to gift-wrap it for you?"

Barry didn't believe in souls any more than magic, but negotiated the price down to a round $25 anyway.


Barry was a bundle of nerves as he rang the doorbell. This was a bad idea. She'd already rejected him once. She might hate him for bothering her further. But the bracelet wouldn't do him any good if he didn't at least try to give it.

By the time the door opened, Barry had halfway turned to flee. "Barry? What are you doing here?" Michelle looked at him puzzled, a slight furrow in her brow. "How do you even know where I live?"

"I... I wanted to give you something." He held out the bracelet, and she took in reflex. "I get that I'm not your type. But I can change. I'll work on becoming someone worthy of your affection." He paused for a moment. "Errm... Can I have hint for what your type is?"

Michelle fiddled with the bracelet. She hadn't really paid attention from the moment she took it. She traced the symbols on the outside with her fingers. She put it on, just to try; held out her arm and looked at it. It was quite nice. But...

The stress of the situation was getting to Barry. He felt nauseous. The world spun. It felt like he was having a panic attack. But somehow he stayed on his feet, even though everything felt wrong.

Michelle slid the bracelet off her hand, still looking at it. "It's... It's a nice bracelet, Barry. But you can't buy my love with trinkets, and —" As she looked up at him, preparing to give it back, the words stuck in her throat and confusion crept across her face. "How...?"

The confusion changed to wonder, and a puzzled smile emerged. She reached out and touched his cheek, as if to check he was real. "How did you ...?" The smile grew, and excitement sparkled in her eyes. She grabbed his head with both hands and kissed him.

"This is wonderful!" She grabbed his hand and pulled him inside. Barry almost stumbled as she dragged him along. He stepped right out of his shoes, as if they were several sizes to large. His socks slid off as he walked, and he had to grab his belt to stop his jeans dropping to the floor.

Michelle dragged him into her bedroom and pushed him down on the bed. "Sit there." She started to rummage through her closet. "Take off your clothes. They really don't suit you. They never did, but now..."

Barry's mind was a jumble of confusion. Things were moving too fast. And they didn't make sense. But it was going better than he'd hoped for, and he wasn't going to jinx it by questioning things now.

He loosened his belt and pulled down his jeans. He froze a moment when the bony, hairy stilts he expected to find where smooth and soft and full. He blinked and pushed through the confusion. As he bent down to push the jeans over his feet, long locks of luscious blond hair cascaded down around his head. He grab a handful and stared at it. "What the..?"

"Here, try this on!" Michelle turned to him holding out a red summer dress. It was probably his favorite dress that he'd ever seen her in. But why..? His eyes traced a path from the dress to her silky smooth legs and back up to her face, all smiles, bright blue eyes, and framed by long blond hair.

His eyes darted to the mirror on the closet doors and caught his reflection. Saw her reflection. And he realized then that she was a narcissist that could only love herself.


And they lived happily ever after.

Please feel free to fix any typos/grammar/other problems and point out anything that doesn't make sense or could otherwise be improved.


The fool didn't even try to run.

His friends tried. Dr. Blaine did not even try to track them, that was what the drones were for, and such danger as there was came from the fool.

For a moment, the fool seemed to blink. And then, oddly enough, he seemed less colorful.

As if he had been anything but drab before. Dr. Blaine gathered up the plasma in his hand, and hurled it onward down the room.

The fool did not flinch. Or suffer. The plasma scorched the wall, but did not even singe the man standing before him. Dr. Blaine stood and blinked. Some guard opened fire. The bullets passed through the man as if he had turned himself into a ghost.


The dark waters of the ashen lake are shrouded in the early morning mists. The smooth red stones, sharp like shards of glass, scattered on the beach etch small cuts into my feet. Looking back at the lonely path down the mountain I wish I could be anywhere but here. But no one else can come, all are fighting or just trying to survive. Only I, the one they all reject, the one they say is of no worth in battle, only I am here to touch the waters.

I have been alone for so long. Even back at home in the town, surrounded by other, I was alone. They never really saw me. They never understood me. And then mists rose up from the lake, foretelling the attack of the white beasts.

When the mists came all were ready for Illeya to take her chosen place. She was to descend the path and enter the waters. To become more than she was and to save the town for another generation. But she was afraid and no one could console her. She did not want to go, to leave her friends and her family. And the beasts became more numerous, forcing more to defend the town. At last Illeya made the journey but a beast broke through the lines.

So the town fought on, trying to survive without their chosen sacrifice. Without the one who had been fated to save them. Without real hope of surviving.

The road to the crest of the mountain was hard. I could not look back for fear of losing my own resolve. They never wanted me in the first place but perhaps at least in my sacrifice they will see worth in me at last.

Illeya's corpse beside the road reminded me of the cost that lay ahead. But a corpse is but a house without anyone to make it home. With no love or care back there I might as well be dead already, so I climbed on down the mountain to the red rock beach by the water.

I should not wait much longer, the town needs to be saved. So turning back to the water, I grit my teeth what comes ahead. Discarding my torn robe, I set foot into the water. The water burns my skin, like a fire of liquid pain.

The further I go down into the water of the lake, the more the pain spreads but then something inside seems to awaken. I feel like I am fire, burning back the waters of the lake and the steps begin to feel less painful in a way. The water turns to steam and a light shines from my form.

Looking down I see a body that is not my own. It is the body of an angel, the skin made of golden fire. My wings are made of ash and my hands are claws of glass. I take in a deep breath, pulling in all of the mists. Then into the clear sky I launch and fly back home.

At my very gaze, the beasts burn to ashes. The town is safe for now, though I know I cannot stay. My role is to hold back the white beasts for all my life. And then when I do die, another shall take my place. So across the fields and forests, I seek out my many prey. Though somewhere deep inside, I hope the people of my home remember my name.

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