Alex: a Rylee Adamson Short Story
“My hip was cold and sore from lying on my side all night, and it throbbed something fierce. The smell of fresh cut grass and someone’s breakfast teased my nose. Stomach growling, a groan slipped out of me, and I rolled to my belly. Coughing hard, I tasted blood and spat to one side, my tongue feeling three feet long and wide. Last night… what had happened last night? I’d gone to the club looking for Deidre; someone told me she would be there. There was the club, the heavy music, and a woman wit...h long dark hair and golden eyes; had we kissed? Yeah, we had and it had been amazing—hot, so damn hot—but that wasn’t why I had gone there. I pushed myself up.
On my hands and knees, head hanging almost to my chest, I stared blankly at what was attached to me, of what I was seeing and my mind couldn’t process.
Where last night there had been very human arms and legs covered in smooth skin for my entire nineteen years, there was now a thick black pelt of fur tipped in silver covering twisted limbs that weren’t human at all.MoreLess
On my hands and knees, head hanging almost to my chest, I stared blankly at what was attached to me, of what I was seeing and my mind couldn’t process.
Where last night there had been very human arms and legs covered in smooth skin for my entire nineteen years, there was now a thick black pelt of fur tipped in silver covering twisted limbs that weren’t human at all.MoreLess
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