4. Yuri on his front porch
Chapter four
Yuri on his front porch
T he storm left everything dripping wet. Soggy mud, dripping leaves, and the fresh scent of a forest after a rainstorm filled the world around me. I sat on my porch and watched the storm, eating a bowl of beef stew. There was something so simply wonderful about sitting in a rocking chair on the wooden porch of a cabin, surrounded by dense trees and rain pelting the roof. With a warm, full belly, I fell asleep to the sound of life crackling around me. Thankfully, the lightning was too far off to even hear the thunder as I rocked myself into an empty abyss deep in my skull.
Floating in my nothingness dream was nice, just bobbing with my eye above water, following a stream of consciousness. Unfortunately, my brain was meaner than me. Soon, I was being dragged under the water by something that had a hold of my ankle. When I whirled in the murky lake, I saw him again: the monster of my childhood.
Frankie Carter, a six-foot tall bear of a teenager trying to keep my head under water. I kicked and splashed, screaming mouthfuls of bubbles to be let up, but he only snickered, pushing me further. I begged somewhere deep in my soul to be stronger than him. I wanted to be tougher than Frankie Carter, and I never wanted to be afraid of drowning. I asked and asked and asked for something to help me. No wonder the forest gave me everything in one terrible curse.
As I crawled out of the lake, armed with clawed fingers and razor teeth, snarling at the kids too afraid to save me from the school yard bully… I realized all the fairytales were true. The trees listened. They heard the wishes, no matter how softly they were spoken. Even if they were never spoken out loud. If it was wished for, then they’d grant it.
But it’s never exactly what I asked for.
I snapped up in my rocking chair, gasping for air. I searched the hazy morning light around me. Did I sleep out here all night? I groaned, rubbing my aching head. Raking claws through my hair, I tried to bring my body back under control. Frankie Carter happened a long time ago.
My knees and arms cracked the second I climbed out of my rocking chair. A good bend and stretch later, I was a new gator. I caught my reflection in the puddles on my porch as I worked my shutters open. My human skin was mostly gone, leaving mostly green hide from my feet to my cheekbones. When I was younger, it was less… aggressive. Then, the older I got, the more gator I grew and the less human I felt. The monster in the reflection had a pronounced jaw, practically a muzzle, with razor teeth and scales up along my cheeks to my temples. I lost my brown eyes, now yellow globes with sharp slits. My rumpled salt and pepper hair was still thick. Even the magic forest couldn’t get rid of my stupid cowlick.
With a sigh, I headed inside, my tail thumping against the door frame. I had dishes to wash and shutters to open. The last thing I needed was to sit around moping all day. So, I tossed my dirty dishes into the sink and myself into the shower. My one-bedroom cabin was rather spacious. Thanks random rich Texan who had it built but never lived in it. It was an open floor plan of a living room, kitchen along the eastern wall, bedroom on the western wall with the master bath. I scrubbed my scales from the tip of my tail to my chin.
I dried off and pulled jeans over my rump. Don’t ask how I got the local tailer to purposely put a massive tail hole in Levi’s. I could walk around in nothing but my skin, but there was a part of me that still desired to wear clothes. So, I put tail holes in my jeans and pulled boots over my scaley feet. I even brushed my razor teeth! I rake a come through my hair to curl it backward from my face. Whatever I can do to feel like a person still.
Lumbering through the living room, I tidied up after myself. After an hour of avoiding the shutters, I cracked open the front door.
That’s when I saw her stumbling up through the underbrush, coated in mud with no shoes, hair full of twigs, runny mascara, clutching a phone and wallet to her chest. She was quite possibly the prettiest woman I’ve ever seen. Chestnut hair in a feral mane around her round face, glowing jade eyes, in a pair of jean shorts and a tank-top, she stopped me dead in my tracks.
She smiled at me sheepishly. “Uh… Hi?”
“Hi?” I furrowed my brow. Who the fuck are you? I blinked rapidly, knowing for damn sure she was staring at me. My plaid shirt was still open around my chest, my belly scales on display. I wasn’t wearing my usual sunglasses to cover up my eyes, and my tail flopped around my boots. I glanced down to her bare toes as the words fell out of my mouth, “Where are your shoes?”
She laughed, raking her fingers through her distressed hair. “Uh, great questions. Well? Um… I don’t know.”
Who was she ?