FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

A Fleeting Moment

by K9 Lupus

For a time, a fleeting moment of time, I have need of nothing else. Morning light is filtering into my apartment through the slanted blinds and my soft, fleece bed sheets cloak my body in a shell of warmth. Outside my window I can hear the sounds of a bird and its companion exchanging a medley of warbles and whistles to one another before they take off towards some unknown adventure. Then I open my eyes and sigh, relegated back to my reality.

Shuffling out from underneath the covers, I stumble my way towards the kitchen and fix myself a simple breakfast. Eggs and toast will do. The phone rings, but I let it go to voicemail. I'll get to it later. No doubt it's Janna asking again if I wanted to go to the movies this weekend. I wish she'd understand that I was clear when I said "No."

With a full stomach, today was already feeling a little better. Maybe I could even muster the courage to get some fresh air. Janna had mentioned walking would do me some good. I ran my fingers past the set of dusty suits that still hung in my closet, the shoulders feeling like the powdery fuzz of moth wings while I searched for something to wear. Settling on an uninspired, plain yellow shirt and shorts, I grabbed my keys and headed out, thankfully remembering to double back before I got on the bus to lock the door.

********

I wandered about Mableton all that morning unable to shake the numbness nestled in my chest towards the lively buzz of others going about their days. Their smiles turned knots in my stomach and their laughter made my ears ache. I was caught off-guard by a sudden gust of wind causing a discarded candy wrapper to to roll quickly past my feet, thinking for a moment it was the scurrying of a rat. I stared down the alley the wind had funneled through and studied a peculiar sight.

On the other side of the alley across the street I could make out a dilapidated storefront. It was sandwiched between two newer establishments, its walls unpainted with bare wood showing signs of decay from their continued exposure to the elements. In faded letters the banner flapping across the store read_Servi's Antiques & Wares_. I couldn't recall ever seeing a store like that before in town, but I scarcely deviated from my typical route to and from work before things had changed.

I checked my watch and saw that the bus wouldn't arrive for another ten minutes, so I could afford to take a peek inside and satiate my curiosity. Up close I could see that the glass was cloudy and the interior laden with lingering cobwebs. For how battered the front of the store appeared, its Open for Business sign was unnervingly pristine.

The door opened with a jingle of its bell, and I was greeted to the musty scent of wet wood and aged metal. The store was filled with shelves upon shelves of trinkets and gizmos arranged in various stacks and piles. No one manned the counter so I invited myself further inside, searching down one of the several aisles cleared between the clutter. On a table near the back was a wooden inkwell with a pattern of overlapping scales etched within its surface. The accompanying quill looked as dark as the ink itself that was corked next to it in a small, unlabeled glass jar.

"You have an eye for quality I see." a mysterious voice suddenly called out as a stout looking elderly woman poked her head from behind a pile of stacked maps and scrolls.

"Uh, I guess. Thanks. It looks pretty interesting. Um, how much is it? I don't see prices on anything."

She flashed me an incredulous gaze through her eyes that were cloudy much like the front glass of her store.

"No charge for that one. It's sat here long enough. I can let go of it now."

"Are you sure? I mean I can pay you fo.." With a wave of a shaky hand she cast aside the idea entirely and I didn't press further.

"Thanks. I'm not sure how good business will be for you though if you give stuff like this away."

"Oh, don't worry. Business comes whenever it's needed." she replied calmly.

Just then, I heard the distinct pfffff ofthe bus's air brakes as it stopped at the light just outside the store. I carefully gathered up the inkwell, quill, and the jar of ink into my bag and flung myself out the store, nearly knocking over a display of armor mounted on a pole. Running down the alley to hopefully beat the bus back to my stop, I flashed one last look back towards the store and spied the old woman wearing a smile much too large for her wrinkled face as she stared at me through the foggy glass.

********

Back at home, I carefully set down the bag with the inkwell, quill, and ink on my desk and examined the contents more carefully. I thought maybe the quill came from a raven, but the feather itself was too broad and stiff. I grabbed a sheet of fresh paper from one of the drawers and looked at my artwork I had hanging above the desk in varying states of completion. Drawing had long been my vessel to worlds just outside my grasp. I thought maybe if I drew nice and pleasant things that my life could come to resemble some of the grand adventures I depicted.

Staring at the blank, desolate page before me, I leaned my head back wondering what I should draw. From my upside-down view I could see the poster hanging beside my bed of the Mableton Zoo. I had frequented the zoo with friends when I was younger, and it was a source of good memories for me. Stretched down along one side of the poster was one of the zoo's lace monitors, staring out into the room with one of its prehistoric eyes.

Settled on my idea now, I dipped the quill into the ink and with a confident stroke began my work. The lines flowed from the quill with unnerving ease. My image of what I wanted to create was vivid and startlingly clear in my mind's eye, and my hands responded in tandem to craft my vision. When I was done, a replica of the monitor's eye stared back at me with all the might of its ancient heritage. I was amazed by how quickly and efficiently the whole process had been, and for the first time all day I smiled.

Encouraged, I challenged myself to another depiction of the lizard from the poster, this time showcasing its entire body traversing down the trunk of a tree. It came out just as spectacularly as the first had, and I felt a well of delight bubble within me. It was only then putting the drawing down that I saw the strange spattering of scales forming in small patches at the backs of my hands. At first I thought my hands were simply dry, but feeling their altered texture I knew this was something much more.

Over the next few days I found myself overcome with an overwhelming urge to draw. It was a need, a hunger burning within me that I could quiet for a time, but never fully satisfy. This passion revolved like a grand, celestial body around the lizard from the Mableton Zoo. I discovered that with each new iteration of it I crafted into being, more change would follow suit. My initial panic was quickly stymied as my transformation progressed, instead replaced by my building fascination at what was taking place as I started to resemble my choice subject. Through this magnificent ink I was now finally able to bring my drawings to life. What an honor it was to think that I had now become the canvas. Instead of drawing the lace monitor from the Mableton Zoo, I was constructing self-portraits and renditions of a new me.

I scoured the internet looking up any and all information I could find about them: eating habits, life cycles, evolutionary history. I couldn't digest the knowledge fast enough! The more I learned, the greater I appreciated each new change I would discover. Some would have considered my work obsessive; I preferred to call it thorough.

********

Days passed, which quickly became weeks. My hair had since fallen out across my entire body, now replaced with an emerging pattern of yellow and black scales. Extending from behind me was a flourishing, sinuous tail. My ears had shrunken down to nubs at either side of my head ,and I could now make out the beginnings of a reptilian snout pressing forth from my face. Shoes had become woefully inadequate to accommodate my widening, altered feet.

To my delight, my works were becoming increasingly elaborate and detailed. Poses were dynamic and I experimented with varying compositions based on what I had learned earlier in the day. Often now from sunrise to sunset I would lay on my apartment floor creating a single masterpiece. I was relieved to find that no matter how much I drew the ink never emptied in the inkwell. I could continue my craft in peace for as long as I desired.

When food ran low I decided to sneak out of the apartment in the middle of the night to scour for what I needed. I was glad then to have paid extra to have the first floor apartment as I hopped out of the open window and disappeared into the night. Cloaking as much of my body as possible, I gathered leftovers from the backs of restaurants, eating my fill and then carrying what I could back home. I was astonished how much bounty was available to me.

At home, several messages had built up now on the answering machine, but I never called Janna back. One time she had stopped by and knocked at the door inquiring why I wasn't answering her and if I was still ok. I stayed silent, contentedly curled with a new project. She wouldn't understand how important this drawing was to me anyhow.

********

Late one night, while finishing up a new drawing my quill snapped between my misshapen, clawed fingers. Feeling robbed of my only joy, I loosed a hissing cry of frustration. My tail whipped behind me and knocked over a vase housing a withered plant. I thrashed my body about the apartment, tearing at my clothes and anything else I could reach until exhausted from my rage I fell asleep.

The next day, not wanting to admit defeat, I had the stroke of inspiration to use what I had given myself. I dipped a single claw into the dark ink and with a featherlight pressure continued where I had left off. The drawings I made this way weren't as refined as what I had been able to make before, but that was ok. I could get used to it.

All through the night I drew this way until morning light filtered into my apartment through the slanted blinds. I paused to clamber my way atop my haphazard nest of scattered drawings I had amassed to better feel the warmth of the sun across my back. Outside my window I hear the sound of a single bird calling out with no response. I close my eyes and sigh as my forked tongue flicks out and scents the air. My thoughts slow and for a time, a fleeting moment of time, I have need of nothing else.