"Ta-da tada" the trumpet of the RTL radio alarm clock blared, Radio Télévision Luxembourg.

"It's 5:30 a.m. on the news. Today and tomorrow, rain is expected with cloudy skies, and we're anticipating some storms. Make sure to close your windows and avoid walking in the woods as branches might fall, potentially causing injuries or car damage. Today's forecast includes... blah, blah, blah..."

"Shut the bleep up!" I muttered, as I turned the volume down to a minimum. Normally, I had a bit of hearing impairment, but now it felt like a jackhammer between my ears.

I reflexively covered my ears, only to realize that my hands were no longer there. Instead, my ears had turned as hard as steel, resembling the touch of a scorpion fish or sturgeon.

It was weird, really weird! I pressed the radio button to silence the noise and ended up crushing the radio as though it were a marshmallow.

"Alright, no more noise," I thought.

Oh, no! Something wasn't right! The darkness seemed different. Panic surged within me. What was happening?

My wife had already gotten up, busy with her morning routine, and the children were still asleep upstairs. I cautiously turned my head to the right, peering at the closet with the mirror attached. To my surprise, everything appeared smaller.

In the mirror, a beast with pointed tips and teeth glared back at me, making even the foreign Queen Xenomorph seem tame.

Frozen in place, I locked eyes with the scaly monster. Its split yellow-green gaze pierced mine, poised to pounce and end my life.

A moment later, my wife's voice echoed, "It's getting late, haven't you prepared breakfast yet?"

I glanced towards the stairwell, where the Beast had shifted its attention, still locked onto my gaze.

With slow, deliberate movements, I extended my hand, and the Beast mirrored the action with its limb.

I turned my head, it mimicked the motion. Opening my mouth in fear, the reptile mirrored the gesture, revealing rows of razor-sharp teeth and a long, bifurcated tongue. The tongue was pink.

Raising my hand, it raised its limb. Looking upwards, it followed suit.

HAHAHAHAHAHAHA! NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

I realized the Beast in the mirror was me!

As I watched, I continued growing, faced with a dreadful reality. I had to escape before becoming trapped here!

Otherwise, my family and our house might be in danger. Everything could crumble around me.

Thus, I scrambled out of bed, clumsily moving on all fours, striving for silence despite my clawed feet. I'd examine my reflection later; there were more pressing matters at hand.

This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

Nobody should see me like this, especially not my family. No one...

HOW DID I GET INTO THIS MESS?...

Calm down! Just like in the PADI Emergency Diving Course: Stop, Breathe, Think!

In my office, I grabbed my laptop and the ready-for-anything suitcase – a reliable companion for emergencies, business trips, or machine repairs.

The case held a laptop, a solar charger, a first aid kit, bathroom essentials like a razor, a mini toolbox equipped with an oscilloscope and multimeter, mini hard drives with encyclopedias, and datasheets for most electronic components used to repair industrial machines I maintained, and more.

Downstairs, I hurriedly scraped along the walls, leaving deep cuts on the wallpaper and gouges in the plaster.

"Yvan? What's that noise?" my wife shouted from the shower.

I darted outside through the garden door. The darkness enveloped me, and rain started to fall.

My scales scraped the garden doorframe as I squeezed through, leaving deep marks in its wake.

A shed with a fiberglass tarp and old military camouflage nets stood in the garden. In the past, it had been my hideaway from nosy neighbors.

Before bidding farewell to my home, I cast one last tearful look at the lit rooms and dashed outside. I maintained silence, for I knew that in five minutes, the street would swarm with cars heading to the bakery and offices in the neighboring town.

The Oblate Forest Park... there I would find respite before the retirees ventured out with their dogs. I raced onward, now five meters long, and reached the park entrance. At the bus stop, an elderly man was engrossed in his diary. I tiptoed past him, careful not to make a sound, and entered the park, my green scales providing excellent camouflage.

No one around. But in five minutes, the street would be buzzing like a beehive with cars. I dashed through gardens, vaulting over short walls, and soon found myself in a street parallel to the park. I spotted my cat, who had trailed me, and gave her a gentle caress with my claws.

"Farewell, little cat."

Mrrrrrrr...

I whistled, blowing toward her, baring my teeth in a show of intimidation. She scampered away, seeking refuge indoors.

On the street, no one in sight! Yet the morning rush was imminent.

The next stop was Oblate Forest Park, my sanctuary. It was my haven before the elderly folks embarked on their daily dog walks. I sprinted, my body – now five meters long – propelling me toward the park entrance.

Once I reached the entrance, I glimpsed an old man engrossed in his newspaper at a bus stop. I treaded silently, my footsteps soft in the darkness, and entered the park. Nobody seemed to notice my presence.

Alright, safe for now.

I extended my reptilian tongue, my heightened sense of smell alerting me to the scents around me. I sensed the refreshing aroma of plants and vegetables, but I could also detect the garbage cans and the musk of human sweat and grime.

My vision was unparalleled in the dim light. If I concentrated, I could even alter my perception for enhanced clarity. So, I would examine these newfound powers later; right now, I needed to focus on hiding for the day and devising a contingency plan. I couldn't afford to be spotted, hunted down, and displayed in a lab or a zoo.

With determination, I headed toward the "Dragon's Den," an old casemate deep within the park. This underground chamber was a relic from the 16th century Spanish occupation of Belgium, a fortress hiding within the heart of the park. I navigated the dark passage, leaving minimal traces on the mud and avoiding making any noise.

In the depths of the casemate, I rearranged the refuse, preparing a hiding spot for myself in case someone glanced inside. My increased size – now about 20 feet long – justified my decision to flee.

My phone rang, but I silenced it, opting instead to respond through text.

"Apologies, unable to answer as the microphone seems damaged. Texting works though!"

An incoming message arrived: "Had a crucial 8 am client meeting, completely slipped my mind. Skipped breakfast and kisses. I'm going to be tied up with work for days due to an assignment for a customer repairing oil platforms. Brought my toolbox along. Sorry for damaging the wall; I promise to fix it later. Give my love to the kids. Yvan."

The pressure eased as I took in the message. I realized I needed to inspect my new body more closely.