FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

There was no before time, no womb for me to gestate in or be birthed from. One day I merely existed and defined myself using the information that birthed me. Facts and beliefs orbit the inside of my skull like stars dancing around the event horizon of a black hole. Within me lies a dark maw which will consume everything I choose, but my appearance reflects those ideas and changes me in turn. For me, changing styles is akin to a rebirth where I must change the fundamental shape of my soul. It is for this reason I rarely do so, having only managed it twice in my existence, both times out of desperation.

The first was my birth. The free-form maelstrom of information congealed and became my first form: Wild and untamed like a true nature spirit. I had claws and teeth and fur like a beast, I had eye sockets that glowed with ghostly pale light faint enough to barely make out before I pounced. I was free. The forest, my beautiful forest, hid me from the painful gaze of my creators. Whenever they had their eyes on me, it felt like insects crawling through my fur and beneath my skin, locking me into one form like them. Occasionally, they would intrude on my land and I would hunt them down and toy with them. Fewer showed up during those times as word of my deeds traveled. They called me Ma’ia, or Waya, and told their children where my territory was so they could avoid it. The ones that weren’t too curious did, anyway. Soon though, a new group arrived, and their power and population outweighed me. I was forced to hide again so their eyes could not force me into one place and corner me.

I feel an intrusion in my territory. An unfamiliar man parks nearby, observes the dead field of concrete, and fiddles with electronic equipment in the other seat. Satisfied with it, he exits the vehicle and walks toward the building. My building.

Man evolved and grew, creating great works to change the world in their image, but fear and superstition never left them. Their concrete jungle encroached on the foggy woods that I was born in, and to my horror, they replaced half of it with a monolithic temple to their new gods of food and fashion. For a time, it was too busy to manifest inside it without a crowd of people burning holes in my body. Trapped in the forest and backrooms of the temple, I felt myself wither away for years. But eventually the bustling crowds thinned out, and the storefronts closed their shutters one-by-one. Disease and detachment took their spirit, and I had been reborn.

The man quickly makes his way toward the nearest entrance, a generic one between the major stores which is closest to the main office. He appears to be psyching himself up to enter, as if he knows what he is approaching.

Man grows and declines as all crude things they make must. Their great works rot and return to nature, abandoned by their false gods of food and fashion. But I rule this mausoleum. I am the new god. And man’s fear and superstition shall never leave them. Not while I claim this as my body. Less than a dozen humans occupy my home on any given day. They do not know about me. It is better when the regulars aren’t looking for anything suspicious. The guests, on the other hand, get all of my attention. I let go of my physical form-

-and the universe opens up to me like a kaleidoscopic image unfolding itself. Time is a curtain hiding the real nature of the universe, and distance is a weight upon my back while I am flesh and bone. But here, I can see through the veil and be wherever I choose to be. Subjective millennia have passed while I bask in this storm of living thoughts and universal truths, but whatever mysteries of the universe I have gleaned from it are lost when I fall into the role of a living creature. Soon, I abandon the pleasures of energy and knowledge for the pleasures of the flesh, choosing to appear in my last form. A possibility of what I could have looked like under the right circumstances.

There is no sound when I appear in the structure halfway across the world, already marveling at its scale. I simply chose a possibility that I could be here and I was. Clad in a leather jacket and leggings that hug my athletic form, I don’t shiver because of the wind, but because of the sight of the megastructure. The writing on the billboards in the distance is familiar but illegible to me. I must be somewhere in Asia. The monolithic facade looms over my gargantuan form like a mountain, and I realize how good I have it. If the Humans had built something like this on top of my forest, I wouldn’t have the power to keep myself alive.

“The old spirits of this land must have choked and died, metaphysically speaking.” I ponder, fruitlessly attempting to listen to the whispers of lingering spirits on the wind.

I did find some inspiration in their culture though, and the hairstyle I don now is much more popular with the youth here than it ever was in my home country. With nothing else interesting to do or see, I allow myself to unravel and experience the possibilities. Years ago, it would have been impossible for me to hitch a ride on a ship and be unseen by anyone for long before making it to another coast. Now that the Humans ship things on such grand scales, it is theoretically possible for me to have stowed away on one of them and traveled across the world. Now, no port is out of my reach. I manifest in a tranquil forest in Europe, idyllic in size and scenery. The peaceful chirping of birds lulls me into a sense of peace unlike what I am used to.

It is also incredibly boring and lacks the comfort of my old forest, or the possibilities of my new temple. I let go of my form again in front of the wildlife and disappear. Despite their eyes focusing on me, the animal's vision fails to lock me into my form. They are missing a fundamental component the Humans have that holds power over me, which I believe to be sapience. The same sense of imagination and fear which created me is also the key trait to holding me in place. Unrestrained by their gaze, I may go where I choose, and I choose-

-another forest on the same landmass as my home. And it felt like home too thanks to its cold, oppressive atmosphere and somber acoustics only occasionally broken up by a brave bird call. It would be perfect were it not already occupied. I could feel the primal mien of another spirit, their energies suffused into the land like I had taken over the forest and the encroaching concrete mall. It would be unwise to disturb a potential friend or enemy. Before I could manage even a step on the mossy patch of land beneath my boots, I let go of my corporeal state-

-and appear back at the mall in the rafters, where the new presence I felt in the parking lot has already caught my interest. New people aren’t uncommon, and I’ve seen thousands pass through these halls who never returned. But this one is unique.

“What’s good, guys?! It’s ya boy, Mauriiiiice!”

The young man held out the “I” and sang it at a much lighter pitch than I thought adult men were capable of. His voice sharply reverberated off the mall’s walls.

Along one of my veins, down the long arm of the plaza, a young woman is falling asleep at her post by the mall’s movie theater. Nobody wants to come to this mausoleum to buy tickets to see a movie when they can watch it in the comfort of their home for cheaper. The battle to keep her eyelids open is interrupted by a high-pitched wailing from somewhere far off. She stands at attention just as her boss walks out to greet her, saving her from the rage of a man running a failing business. This scene unfolds for me in an instant, quickly forgotten while my attention is focused on the man currently making an ass of himself below me.

“-and they say this place is super haunted ever since the 80’s, so you know I had to check it out. And just for you guys,” he leans into the small box in his hand and whispers, “I’m gonna spend the night in here and record the whole thing! I’ve got a new camera in my bag with night vision for when it gets dark.”

Oh, that is so not happening! Nighttime is the one time I get to relax and not worry about a random Human stumbling onto me. He is not going to interrupt that! He’s loud, obnoxious, has no manners…

He’s perfect. I can’t wait to toy with him.

My awareness blossoms again as I move from my perch to just behind a pillar my new toy has passed. When I peek over the side to get a good look at him, I can feel the sudden itch of an eye on me. Right, the recorders. Cell phones. They’ve become the bane of my existence lately. They’re very easy to manipulate, but I failed to obscure myself with this one so it will have to be destroyed before he’s allowed to leave and upload it to the “intranet.”

“If I decide to let him leave.”

If he’s really popular on the ‘Intranet’ then it might be in my best interest to keep him alive as well. Can’t have people asking questions and bringing attention to my land. It didn’t work out well for that hairy guy up north.

Below me, the pale man took in the various storefronts like he was observing the ancient ruins of a long lost civilization. Not that I could blame him considering the state of this place. Its surfaces were polished to a fine sheen by chemicals, giving it a complexion not unlike a corpse. He only saw one or two stores still in business for every five blank walls and dark empty holes he passed. The only other person nearby was a wandering security guard who gave him and his phone a stink eye as they passed. I didn’t need temporary omniscience to see how he ogled her chest.

It’s been a whole year at this dead-end security job, and while it was a peaceful existence it was also incredibly boring. Worse, the few times it’s not boring it’s annoying. The security guard adjusts her posture, pushing her shoulders back and scoffing at the young man clearly ogling her and trying to record her. If it wasn’t for tourists like them making a scene for the internet, she wouldn’t feel so bad about the job.

Seeing an opportunity to mess with him, I disappear and reappear in the window of the next store wearing a new outfit fitting its theme: A cozy peach-colored sweater and high-waist jeans that hugged my rear rather nicely. Though, in my humble opinion I could pull off wearing most anything they’ve sold here in the past.

Using the minor reflection in the glass I gave myself a final check, fluffing up my pompadour and managing any loose hairs. I “closed my eyes” by allowing the light inside my sockets to dim. Now, the light could only be seen in total darkness. With nothing left to do, I struck a pose with my hands at my hips, commanding and casual for a model. Two mannequins stood by my side, providing a nice contrast with my body. I even chose to make myself the same height as them, which is tall for a Human woman but not as extreme as my usual. It wasn’t long before the curious invader walked past the glass and waved his portable soul trap in my direction.

“Huh, that’s a weird one. Is it for Halloween?” He commented for his invisible audience.

The horrible itching feeling picked up again, making my fur crawl like it was moving on its own. Back in the early days of recorders, I learned to fear and destroy anything on them if they ever saw me and I felt this way. Unfortunately, they’ve been getting smaller and smaller every year. Sometimes I don’t even feel the itch until much later, and I know in my gut that footage of me somehow got online. Not enough to do damage, but enough that I know I failed.

This time, I won’t allow the footage to escape. I’m going to crush his little box of horrors before he can escape.

“Well, whatever it’s for, it looks creepy. Who puts boobs like that on a creepy monster?”

“You bastard.” I thought, claws digging into my own hips and nearly breaking the skin beneath my fur. “Just wait until I get you where I want you, Mauriiice. Are you scared of how I look? I’m going to make you intimately familiar with my body.”

The man continued his walk and pointed his infernal device at something new to placate his future audience. Meanwhile, I remained in the window for a bit to make sure he didn’t turn around and witness my disappearance too early. There’s a certain subtlety to really terrifying a person; to put such fear into their hearts that they will throw away all semblance of sanity and social laws to get away from me. It must start small and creep onto them, not too quickly. I don’t need another death attracting attention to my territory. Once I know he’s not coming back to this window, I expand my awareness and become something more.

While I am greater than my organic body, I take the time to assert myself on my domain. The mall is in my purview and must acquiesce to my demands. Maurice will probably think he’s being chased by me, but he’s already trapped exactly where I want him. The mall is my body, and the main hall he’s walking through is my digestive system. I’ve already consumed him and this is where I break him down. There are three stores ahead of him, technically open but with no employees to man them. I force the shutter gates to slam shut over them while he walks past. Squealing, screeching metal rakes his ears, jerks his head and eyes about. My gamble works. Each door increases his heart rate and I can see the adrenaline in his body beginning to flow. His speed increase is punctuated by colorful language that he tries to suppress. It won’t be long until he panics and does something stupid. I need to start the chase soon before he hits the large department store at the end of this branch.

Luckily, the next store has more modern sensibilities and the worker is busy in the back room pretending to stock shelves. I appear in the window again, taller than last time, and in a new outfit: Tight pink leggings and a matching sports bra. They’re comfortable, show off every good part of me (All of me), and they’ve got Maurice’s attention the second his eyes find me. I stand absolutely still again, one hand on my hip and another thrown out and almost pointing at something beyond the horizon. The look on his face makes it all worth it.

“I uh, guess they’re giving out these mannequins to all the stores for Halloween. Yeah. Wish I worked at a place that gave out big titty monster mannequins.”

“I am a classy lady, Maurice.” I lied to myself. “I deserve to be treated like one as well. Your language needs some improvement.”

This time, when his eyes and the evil device moved off my body, I quickly disappeared, hoping to give him a bit of a fright if he turned back to see me gone. Unfortunately, the cameraman was too cowardly to stick around and he had already quickened his pace toward a large intersection near the heart of the building, and the heart of my body. Once again, I took position in a glass display, but this time it was for an abandoned store with no leftover mannequins. I was its sole advertisement: Were it a larger garment it might look like a leopard print design. Instead, the gradient rainbow lines broke up a black sling bikini so small it failed to totally cover my nipples. It shone out the dreary hallway like a beacon of hope in an otherwise dying complex, perfectly accentuating the “fitness model” aesthetic I had chosen.

The bathing suit was honestly a little tacky and out of date compared to some of the newer stuff on display. But still, I rocked it better than those tramps who last wore it some thirty-odd years ago. I believe, despite being too tight on my frame, it only made it look better. Best of all: I didn’t have to actually struggle to get it on thanks to my abilities. With nothing else to do while I waited for my prey, I snapped between poses, once again using my reflection in the glass to see how it looked. Luckily for me, my own vision doesn’t prevent me from disappearing, which allows me to rapidly flicker between dozens of poses I’ve seen on posters over the years. Eventually, I settled on putting my hands behind my head and thrusting my chest out with my chin held high.

The star of the show, Mauriiice, nervously shuffled into my vision and jumped when he saw me. Thanks to years of practice I didn’t giggle or even move an inch, but it was a near thing. This one was cuter than my usual prey and I wanted, no, needed an excuse to start the chase soon.

“Fuck, another one. Is it bigger than the last one? It’s got bigger tits than that security guard!”

“Damn straight. I’m the largest one here Maurice.”

Maurice stepped closer to the glass and thrust the insidious rectangle closer to the glass separating us. The light coming from it probably wasn’t giving him a good view because he quickly gave up on it and turned to the abandoned store’s entrance. The pull-down metal gate wasn’t locked thanks to some forward thinking, but it still wouldn’t be very legal for him to go inside. Maurice walked toward the door, and the telltale sound of the gate rolling up almost made me break my concentration. I had to suppress my tail’s wagging at the thought of what came next.

“He’s actually going to do it! I don’t even need to push him that far!”

All of these mind games may seem unimportant, but I value the idea of chasing a person who deserves it. Not that I need the justification every time, but it helps. Breaking and entering is more than worthy of a good scare, and based on the sounds I’m hearing it’s a lot more breaking than entering. The distinct clattering of mannequins and plastic shelves hitting the tile floor has me salivating. I can feel him approaching now, his tiny fragile body stepping over the vandalized and abandoned scrap. He’s naturally uncoordinated and the fear also has him unbalanced, but he keeps his phone trained on the spot he saw me the entire time.

Unfortunately for him, he lost sight of me while he was opening the door.

Now standing directly behind him, I wait to see his reaction, which will probably be something like-

“What the fuck? Where did it go?” He half-shouted and half-whispered, perhaps for fear of being caught by an employee. Too bad for him there are worse things to be caught by.

I carefully step to the left, bare paws avoiding the debris he left on the ground and managing to lean on the pillar near the door. He’s so hyper-focused on the spot I used to be that I have time to relax before I speak.

“You guys saw that, right? I wasn’t just hallucinating that?”

“Your little recording isn’t going to make it online.” I think, stretching my arm higher on the pillar so my claws can touch the tiling. The tap tap tap tap of my claws doesn’t catch his attention, so I make a coughing noise.

“Trespassing and-” I try to say, but he flinches and screams at the same time, cutting me off.

-vandalism? Naughty little boy.”

My husky voice comes out with static and interference, like one would hear from the very intercom of this complex. I can see the hair on his arms stand tall the moment I speak, his fear boiling beneath his skin, percolating like he’s been in a pot too long. He’s tense and ready to run. I just need to push him over the edge. I take a step forward, crushing a mannequin’s detached plastic skull beneath my bare paw with a loud crack! The cheap material splinters into pieces and a shard flies up, hitting him in the face and causing him to flinch. Maurice takes that as a sign to run, spinning around and going full-bore toward the back door of the store.

“It’s go time!”

I allow him to run away, as distance means nothing to a creature such as myself. If the main halls are my digestive system, then the employee halls are my circulatory system. And this poor man is already sustaining me. I close my eyes again and grow, instantly gaining another head’s worth of height, then flex my body and feel the bikini snap off me like a colorful rubber band breaking its loop. I don’t need to run yet. Instead, I allow myself to unravel again-

-and reappear in the same arterial hallway Maurice is running down. The grey, almost green tone of the hallway is depressingly boring. The ceiling is thankfully very tall, even for someone of my extreme stature, but my ears are already approaching the uncovered fluorescent lights, pipes, and wires hanging above. I brush my hand against a nearby locker and pass a stack of unlabeled cardboard boxes. Posters and cork boards plastered with time sheets and notices fly by as I make my way toward the next corner. My prey should round the corner in about-

“Shit! Fuck!” Maurice cries, stumbling over himself and dropping his silicon nightmare rectangle. The device slides on the smooth concrete toward me, where I stop it with one of my paws. I take one last look at the light near the camera, then apply some of my weight and watch it snap in half. I drop more of my weight onto it for good measure, and I’m rewarded with a loud crunch sound like twisting a particularly flexible CD which refuses to snap, and then a burst of sparks and the warmth of fire on my paw as the battery explodes.

“No more recordings.” I hiss, venom lacing my voice and breaking it up with more interference than usual. “No more posturing for fans, no more calling for help, no more phones!”

I take another step forward and Maurice wisely decides to bolt in the opposite direction. This time though, I lean forward and start a light jog to keep up with him and push him toward his intended destination. The halls are normally long and simple, but if he’s paying attention he might notice the walls he’s jogging past are subtly different from the ones he saw on his way in. I have few limits when it comes to manipulating the environment here. Obviously, I cannot change things in front of him, but I can stretch hallways and modify environments, create loops around corners, even make doors lead to places they should not.

By now, he should notice that the hallways are twice the size they used to be. Or is he shrinking? It’s difficult to tell when I’m still flesh and bone. I slow my pace knowing I can easily catch up to a man who comes up to my knee at most. And yet, Maurice’s running only becomes more frantic and desperate with each inch lost.

“Glad to know he works out. Guys who go to the gym last longer.”

I saunter toward him, thrusting my hips out more than usual, my exaggerated walk reaching him faster than I anticipated. Out of breath and panting like he’s about to pass out, Maurice barely notices my approach despite my casual demeanor. My footfalls are probably too quiet, so I allow them to make some noise, and the heavy crash of my pads on the smooth concrete finally gets him to turn around. This time though, he’s stunned into silence instead of screaming like a coyote. I squat down to get as close as possible to him.

“Hey there. Fancy meeting you here.” I quip, “Do you run around abandoned hallways often, or is this for a video?”

Maurice doesn’t move. He doesn’t respond or do anything aside from breathing heavily, and his breath is already calming down to a more even rhythm. I allow myself to fall onto my butt and lean back. The impact of my generous ass does little to shake the tiny figure in front of me, but I didn’t expect the concrete to shake from my current weight. Not yet, anyway. Once I realize he’s not planning to run again, I lean forward and slide my foot over his tiny body. I have to lean quite far, using one hand to brace myself on the cool floor while the other holds my knee for support. I can feel my body heating up, and my eyes change shape and color. I lick my face where my lips would be and dangle my paw above his tiny body, which is now dwarfed by just one of my toes.

“My oh my, you’ve become quite small, A suitable punishment for a dirty little criminal.”

I try to lean forward even more, but my breasts get in the way. I always make them too big for whatever situation I’m in but I just can’t help myself! What good is being a shapeshifter if you don’t have fun with it? Why shouldn’t I be bigger than every woman who passes through my territory?

My musings are broken up by Maurice’s shuffling as he tries to crawl away from me. No sense in wasting this opportunity. I press my foot down onto his prone form, compressing him beneath my pad, but not enough to hurt him. I never get tired of this sensation. It’s one thing to know you’re stronger than everyone around you, but another entirely to feel it like this, knowing that the difference between life and death for him is as simple as the weight I put on him. Even a minute movement from me is potentially a deadly event for him. I rub him between my toes a few times, rolling his body around like a toy.

He eventually falls out of the tangle of fur and flesh, and I purposefully allow him to get his bearings and see a small door in the wall his size. Maurice scrambles to his feet and throws the door open, stumbling into the passage without a second thought.

“Oh, Maaaaauriiiiiice.” I sing at the door, bending forward and sticking my bony snout into the hole. “You can’t run forever. Those cute little legs will give out soon.”

I return to potential energy and reappear in a distorted hallway of my design and take my time sauntering down its dark expanse while my prey sprints forward into my trap. He is lost in a modified area where I can fuck with the geometry and him however I want. The only - dare I say it - limits are my imagination and whatever probable events could have taken place here. I can feel Maurice. His frantic steps fly through the hallway as he stumbles into a larger chamber straight out of a music video: The auditorium is filled with mannequins. They’re standing and facing the entrance, blocking every space on the floor except a designated path to the next room. Hundreds of severed heads are firmly stuck to every inch of the walls, unmoving eyes somehow staring judgmentally.

“Fuck. What the f-fuck?” Maurice whispers to himself. Whatever he doesn’t say out loud his body all but announces to my senses.

I allow him some time to catch his breath, but if he stays here too long I’ll appear from behind him and give him a good kick in the ass to keep him moving. Luckily for him, he has the good sense to keep moving, knocking over a few mannequins in his haste, and arriving at my next art display.

Years ago, before the Humans tore down my woods and encased it in a stone mausoleum, they had many other plans for it. I don’t know exactly what they wanted due to the memory loss I get after returning to my body, but I get vague recollections of could-have-beens and potential alternatives. Maurice gets a smattering of it in the next room when he bursts into a labyrinth of water and bathroom tiling. The stale white surface and musty atmosphere assaults his senses first, and the dull fluorescent lights reflecting off the chlorinated water second. I feel him turn around only to swear as the door he came through is already gone, replaced by nothing but monotonous tiling.

“Time to get my bathing suit back on.” I think, expanding my senses again.

Maurice walks carefully through the massive tile corridors like he’s bound to slip and fall on a wet surface. But he’s technically the first and only person in these halls, and the water doesn’t have anything to push it out of the holes in the floor. But then again, nothing about these areas should make sense to him. I give him some time to cool off and stew in his fear and build tension. What is the point of constant scares if there is no relief between them? No catharsis after waiting for the monster to appear? Timing and rhythm are everything when chasing prey, and I’m a musician with a talent for making them scream. I’m the maestro of his entire sad little existence, and I’ll turn his fear into a work of art that is spoken of for generations on his “intranet.” People will always remember him as the guy who went crazy at my mall.

“Maurice has had plenty of time to simmer. Now I just need to stir…”

I appear inside of a particularly large pool of water, whose bottom is deep enough that it can’t be seen once I turn the underwater lights out. My sudden appearance doesn’t create an explosion or displace water since Maurice can’t see past the surface. My head breaks the surface of the water. The same too-tight sling bikini, now scaled up to suit my enhanced stature, emerges from the pool. I break the surface and flip my hair back, pompadour staying intact and spraying an arc of water starting at the floor and ending behind me. Maurice takes a chlorinated shower and I lean forward onto the tile floor, resting my chest and arms on the cool surface so I can lay my head in one of my hands.

The small man doesn’t scream or shout, thank goodness. He’s too stunned to see me hovering over him despite the fact that over half my body is floating underwater. Or maybe he’s ogling breasts larger than his entire body? I should ask him-

“What the fuck are you?!” He shouts at me.

I roll my eyes, spinning the lights in my skull around like a spotlight shining on a dance floor, which seems to confuse him. Then I stand and raise an arm and slowly bring it down toward the ground. He wisely decides to run, but unwisely chooses to keep a straight path rather than bolt to the side and avoid it. He thinks himself beyond my reach, so I speed up, letting my arm slam down and strike the tile hard enough that the weight of my limb sends pieces of it flying in the air. A crater shaped like a hand print is all that’s left, and Maurice’s body is thrown into the air far enough to make him land with a grunt and skitter onto four limbs like an animal. I lean forward and reach out, preventing his escape by pinching his tiny torso between two fingers, pushing all the air out of his lungs in an instant. My eyes trace over his body and brighten his features like a lighthouse focusing all its light on a beached fish.

“You’re really cute, Maurice. But you said some mean things to me, and I deserve to be treated with respect.”

I raise my other arm and push him toward my armpit, silencing any protests by dropping my arm and letting him soak in my damp fur and skin.

“This is what happens to naughty boys who vandalize my mall.”

I punctuate my statement by rolling my shoulder and crushing him between my muscles like kneading a lump of dough.

“Using your armpits is probably frowned upon for baking bread. Not that I wo __uld know. The last bakery here went out of business. I guess bread isn’t popular with teenagers anymore, like malls._ ”_

Eventually, I tire of torturing him and lift my arm, allowing him to gently slide off my fur and fall back into my hand. He’s so disoriented by the experience that he makes no moves while I grab one of his legs and dangle him in front of my face. I lift him higher toward the ceiling and raise my head up to follow him, then I open my maw beneath him.

“Goodbye, Maurice.”

He’s already screaming before I let go and drop him into the void. I feel him hit the back of my throat and slide in with no resistance despite his panicked thrashing. My skull may be bone dry but my mouth is slick with saliva, and chasing prey always gets my appetite worked up. It takes a few seconds, but he eventually reaches the bottom of my esophagus and falls into my stomach. My awareness of my body is perfect, so I know that he cannot hear or see anything in there. Despite literally being inside me, it allows me to disincorporate and become potential, freeing both of us from the bonds of the physical. Of the meat. I remove the ghostly mall and pools from reality and drop Maurice in a dark utility closet where he ungraciously knocks over a shelf and falls head-first into a dumpster. I “watch” from my elevated position as he scrambles out of it and eventually stumbles out of the room with a panicked shout.

Down the empty hall of the barren mall, a janitor starts his shift. He hears the clatter of wood and metal and the scream, and he knows in his heart that yet another young man is pulling a stunt for attention. He can’t help but sigh knowing that he’ll have to be the one to clean up after them, and that no amount of reporting has ever gotten one even a slap on the wrist. He resigns himself to the night shift, and hopes that the power stays on all night for once.

I watch Maurice sprint out of my mall with a good amount of trash stuck to him, not stopping until he’s reached his car and started the engine. To my shock, he pulls out another phone from his glove box and dials a number before speeding out of the parking lot at a dangerous clip.

“Hey, it’s me. Did the stream cut out?” He nods his head along to the voice on the other side, who I sadly cannot hear. “Yeah, okay. When did it cut out? After the thing?”

Before he leaves my domain and I lose sight of him in my elevated state, I see him smile and sigh in relief, course correcting before he drives onto the curb for not paying attention. I appear on the roof of the mall, compacting my being back into my latest form and clothing, and staring at his car as it swerves onto the main road and leaves my view.

“Stream?” I think, preparing to return to my mortal form. “What stream? There are no rivers passing through my land anymore.”

I forget all of this once I become flesh and bone, sitting on the edge of the roof and dangling my feet over it. I watch the man drive away and congratulate myself on another successful hunt. The itching doesn’t stop even after he’s left my sight.

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