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Mistakes Were Made

Chapter Two

© Cederwyn Whitefurr

10th June, 2019

All Rights Reserved.

• Authors Note, due to oversight, character name was incorrect, has been fixed, thank you to the commentator for pointing out this glaringly obvious mistake, it was my mistake, nobody elses -

James staggered backwards, blinded and confused by the flash. It had come from, well, nowhere, yet it left purple spots on his eyes, He stumbled and fell over an old cushion, then crashed heavily onto his back on the floor – expecting the dust of decades to envelop him in a choking swirl – that never eventuated...

“Uhh - “ James gasped, the air knocked from his lungs, as he rolled over and pushed himself up, then frowned and blinked the last of the purplish spots away. “What – happened?"

The attic was empty – all except for a large double wardrobe, that stood majestically against the right wall. As James watched, moonlight crawled across the floor, making a pattern through the glass pane, before it fell on the wardrobe.

“Wait – it was about - “ He murmured, rubbing the back of his head. “About 3pm when I come up here and..."

Without knowing why, James looked around the attic again. Slowly, the hairs on his nape began to rise, as a chill swept through his body – a chill that turned his blood to ice water in his veins.

“No, this – this isn't real!" James cried out, eyes wide in disbelief, as he spun about, his bewildered gaze taking in the attic.

It was spotless – no cobwebs, no dust, no dead cockroaches – nothing, it was almost as if it'd been scrubbed from ceiling to floor.

“This can't be right - “ James muttered, as he staggered back towards the dimly lit hatchway that'd lead to the ladder and back downstairs. His fingers scrabbled at the ring, then he pulled with all his strength, but the hatch remained shut.

“Oh, come on!" James grunted, putting his whole effort into it, but it was for nought.

No matter how he strained, grunted, cursed and ranted, the hatch remained shut – like someone had bolted it shut from the other side. Finally, he gave up, then rose and sighed, before turning his attention to the beautifully crafted wardrobe. He walked up to it, his hand running over the beautiful scroll work, admiring the fine patina of the polish that had been loving rubbed into it. His fingers lingered over the small catches, fully expecting it to be locked. He was surprised as they turned easily, then with a gentle pull, they swung open and he looked, his mouth falling open in surprise.

Inside, was a 5'3" tall kangaroo plush toy, that looked -identical- to how his grandfather had described Kanga. Her silken inner ears, the woodland brown of the synthetic fur, her light brown glass eyes – all of it, it looked like it had been made just yesterday, as there was not a hint of mould or rot or even dust on the plush toy.

Taking it out, James felt how soft the plush was, the tail even had a modest weight in it, as did the feet. Sitting it on the floor, he stepped backwards and looked it over, then walked around it and back again.

“This has to be some trick I know, I'm unconscious, probably got a concussion – I'm dreaming..."

Moonlight crept closer, imperceptible inch by imperceptible inch as the night wore on, whilst James sat and stared, dumbfounded, at the plush kangaroo toy that sat on the wooden floor before him. As the moonlight filled his eyes, falling on the plush toy, his eyes widened in wild disbelief.

At first, barely noticeable, the synthetic fur began to ripple and tremble. Sharp, black claws pushed through the fur of the crude paws, forming into furred fingers that began to twitch and flex experimentally.

James backed away from it, his eyes wide and filled with terror, a low moan coming from his throat.

“No, its – it's not possible – this – this isn't real!"

It's tail rippled and ran like wax, lengthening, bones crackling and fur flowing, where it touched the fake fur, it melted away, revealing real fur in its place, right down to the black tail tip.

“No, no, no!" James shrieked, backing up against the wall and holding his hands out before him, his body overwhelmed by sensations and an overriding urge to flee – but he was trapped.

As more moonlight hit the plush, the transformation increased with alarming speed.

Real fur spread down the legs, the feet going from crude representations, to real fur, muscle, bone and tendon beneath it – the three claws flexing and scratching the floorboards.

“Get away!" James screamed, his mind on the verge of madness.

Pale white fur sluiced down the belly, rolling like a wave on a moon lit beach, before the skin parted like a zipper across the lower belly - as a pouch formed, the powerful muscles contracting and closing the gaping opening.

As the change neared completion, it's arms rippled and wavered, once again, bone, sinew and muscles formed out of the very ether itself, forming real kangaroo forearms, the paws reaching up and clawing and tearing at the faux fur on the muzzle, as the doe beneath it, gasped and coughed.

Tears streaked down his face, his mind reeling helplessly, as he watched this horrific and in-explainable transformation, as it occurred.

He tried to stand, but his legs had turned to boneless jelly, his muscles refusing to respond, overwhelmed by the conflicting signals his mind was firing throughout his body.

Tearing at its muzzle, the kangaroo squealed and its claws curled, as it raked them at his muzzle, tearing apart the faux fur with a cruelty and a desperation, like some wild, feral animal caught in a huntsman's trap.

Barely conscious, James stared unseeingly, as the kangaroo struggled and squealed, its left foot slamming against the timber floor, as it struggled and fought, seemingly trapped by the pool of moonlight that surrounded it.

Finally, she gave a tremendous tug, the faux fur shredding and tumbling from her paws, as she gagged and hunched over, claws gouging at the timber, as she choked and convulsed – a few stray puffs of polyester mixed with saliva spattering onto the floor.

“Oh my god - “ James gasped, drawing a sharp intake of breath, then he froze as the Kangaroo's ears snapped backwards – pointing directly at him.

She was half-twisted about, scratching at her tail, her mind slow to relay the message from her back swept ears. Her widely spaced eyes like twin pools of night, locked on his, a gasp escaped her half open muzzle, then like a statue carved from ice, the kangaroo froze, too afraid to even breathe...

To Be Continued...