Pecking at its green feathers, the ostrich kept a wary eye on the verdant vicinity, open door to many a multi-legged mishap. Since the haughty bird no longer had any underlings, the menial task could not be avoided, adding to its already horribly long list of highly important stuff to watch out for.
After it failed to defend its old territory, the bird, born a royal, had been struggling. But it shall never forget. Small trees grew amid meadows surrounded by a calm lake–––saplings under whose shadows time passed without any worldly worries–––and three clans under its jurisdiction, occupying themselves with random orders.
Gone were such beautiful times, lost to juvenile arrogance. Now, there was more going on than just a spike in assaults that kept it from resting. Such as the never-ending search for a filling meal that left its tender legs sore.
Such as simply surrendering to nature’s call without an adjutant by its side. With an outrageous number of missing plumes, a lost eye, and the many untold troubles that befell it, it had to valiantly cope with what the brutal forest threw its way.
In spite of a number of setbacks, the adolescent bird never forgot who it was, where it came from, or its true calling!
As a proud member of the illustrious society of lofty ostriches–––albeit a defeated one, which wasn’t worth mentioning on its glorious resumè–––it was far from the common riffraff seen scampering around.
Yes, yes–––one single defeat won’t keep it down for life! A winner born to reign or a hero born to die. In the end, its grievous losses were a necessary lesson.
Nothing more, nothing less. This was indeed only one of many setbacks life had in store for its protagonists, carved on the endless menhir.
The fowl knew its past self had been too arrogant and cocky, too ignorant and too easily exploitable. An easy pick. That was its lesson.
The loss... was never due to weakness, only ignorance! Only losers liked that explanation so much they talked about it constantly! Weakness was not a characteristic, it was a bad attitude.
Its proud parents told it such before landing in the cyclopes’ oven... But there was no point in crying over spilt milk. If it ever aspired to reclaim its lost territory, it could only stay alert and undergo brutal training.
Currently, its three remaining pink plumes on the otherwise shiny, green-skinned, bald head oscillated irregularly from time to time while it slowly picked at the obscene blood knots dyeing its ruined royal plumage a beggar’s garment.
After much tender care, the clothed feathers shone again in dull radiance, and the earthbound bird woofed joyfully in delight. How it came to cherish the little things in life!
From an outsider’s perspective, this stunning success had little to do with its curvy, jagged beck or any workout sessions the razor-sharp hook had participated in.
Instead, a tickle of dark, greenish, viscous saliva did the job perfectly. Fizzingly active and suffocatingly smoky, neither the leaves on the ground nor the crumbled stones under its feet were left uninvolved. The royal bird’s three plumes sprang up suddenly like a spooked hare’s ears, sending it into tension mode.
Invading its temporary territory, who was the insolent worm? An opportunistic baddie believing it’s fair game? No minute past and this fowl had gone through a complete transformation.
Its surviving gorgeous feathers stood on end as if under electricity. A bluish hue radiated off its bald head like a brilliant crown as it continued to inhale air that’d enhanced its giant proportions to even greater heights.
During this time, its increased heart rate provided a transient spike in strength, a significant change only evident when one carefully examined its unnaturally tripled foot muscle mass. Assuming one knew how it looked before the change...
In response to the approaching danger, the now monstrous globebird was forced to endure the never-ending discharge of its overactive salivary glands.
Spittle dripped down on wounds that had yet to fully heal, making it uncomfortable. However, time passed without incident. What made the bastard think it could ambush a royal ostrich so easily?
Perhaps the only thing its enemy sought was a deliberate insult, because a direct exchange would only harm the provoker as the bastard was too weak? The bird was not sure what to consider more scurrilous.
Suddenly, just as it was about to blow its top in frustration, the bushes moved. ...that was it. ‘A provocation!’ How offensive! How indecent!
The ostrich was dying to greet whoever was responsible as properly as birdly possible, otherwise this fiery anger would consume it! Again, its height increased as the pressure on its powerful lungs mounted.
Now it looked like an overstuffed turkey ready for a giant’s oven. Only, the giant wasn’t picky about plucking and had no clue about seasoning. Seconds ticked by, and minutes passed.
Eventually, its plumes picked up another small change, indicating an approximate location. As the ostrich prepared for one grandiose shriek, its beak promptly hung open in utter bewilderment.
Even the wuuuuhh sound escaping its air-leaking beak failed to drive home its indecent display. A clear indication of how shocked its brain was at that moment...
What did it see?! Perhaps it received one too many tail flips... In truth, the culprit responsible for its uneasiness was two. Specifically, a furless monkey in tatters scaredly scurrying through the thicket on all fours as if he were devoid of bones.
Immediately behind, a little snake moved with such an awkward gait, as if it had limbs attached at one time in its young life, causing its brain to constantly struggle to keep up with the sudden change.
The snake had, the bird concluded while uncontrollably releasing air still, swallowed a stick that was almost the size of its modest body.
This could explain the pathetic way it moved: By hitting the ground with all its meagre strength in order to manoeuvre around obstacles and jump over deep cracks in the overgrown mess of roots.
What a joke. An utter joke… At the end of the day, the gutsy intruder it had some second thoughts about, the ill-mannered harbinger of next round’s deadly struggle so to speak, failed to notice its magnificent presence.
The monkey seemed to be fleeing in incomprehensible fear, while the serpent, who was no less busy, moved heaven and earth so as not to fall behind the escapee. ‘Blasphemy!’
As a result, the bird was witness to a strange spectacle, one in which two heroic individuals squeezed between its splayed legs and walked onwards, minding their own business.
A good while passed, then the fowl’s beak snapped close, and whilst showering the duo with a great multitude of begrudging looks and melodious swear words, it eventually returned to its mandatory task after woofing in annoyance one last time.
Noises like that did not alleviate anger well, though. When oppressive feelings finally became suffocatingly unbearable, the bird simply left. A royal fowl sharing space with... beggars?
How unfit! As for plain murder and whatnot? That would be way below the bird! Even its tingling instincts agreed!
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The man-turned-snake was at his wit’s end after surviving one day of true hell. More than anything, Linlin felt utterly trashed, both physically and psychologically.
Although the man was constantly plagued with bad luck, it may be argued that he did a commendable job at keeping himself–––or was it itself?–––alive.
No doubt, any other sane person in his metaphorical shoes would have given up long ago. In his turbulent young life, our protagonist was never more convinced that things could always get worse, no matter what.
Arguing the contrary was the same as being blind, deaf and–––above all–––mentally retarded, which he thought didn’t apply to him at all.
Not in this combination and certainly not in its entirety. Someone else would’ve to take the greater share of the blame. The miserable sightseeing tour presented him with enough things to think that he could have used some guidance.
And he still dared sleep soundly. Linlin would have profited more if he had been here, yet sadly, that did not happen. That didn’t mean that he failed to reap the proper rewards from his own efforts. Linlin made a number of discoveries in the last few hours.
A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.
On a related note, while it was impossible to assume the little snake understood human needs, at least hunger, thirst, and fatigue were not foreign concepts and found relief when needed.
Whenever it felt such urges, it propelled itself, or the body it now possessed, to the nearest water source, cadaver, or–––quite worse–––a stinking dirt pile, with the goal of delighting in some tiny, black-headed, fat, wiggling things our dear protagonist would occasionally remember for a very long time to come.
Sleeping on the ground for as long as its unaccustomed body allowed was also an alternative it engaged in plenty. Naturally, the reptile failed to understand the difference between endotherms and ectotherms.
As for our protagonist? Linlin fervently anticipated the hour the slowly climbing percentage would come to completion. Holding onto that thought helped him get through the dark hours.
For example, regarding the reptile’s routine walks to the loo... events Linlin didn’t want to remember at all. His desert clothes, now rags, were still somewhat obstructive in nature, and the dumb reptile did not know what to do with them.
...and what followed can be easily imagined. Now, after what seemed like ages but was only two days based on celestial movement, the countdown had exceeded the 90-ish boundary, a ray of hope in the darkness.
The only one. Linlin couldn’t help but focus on the bright side of the situation, having been reduced to little more than a mere spectator, an attendant of some sort, deprived of his own free will. It did wonders.
Even so, he gained an understanding of the alien world he had been thrust into. For some strange reason, he could now clearly distinguish between that which was far stronger and outside his league and that which came in pitifully few numbers and was not.
A big plus. The key? Observation. And patience. Instincts told him the higher the level of danger they pose, the smarter such lifeforms seem to be. Some even showed behaviour patterns more refined than those of humans!
Wearing excellent clothes that float on their own, without any need for a wardrobe, faithfully following their owners; spewing words that demanded sufficient change from the world itself, while using magic or what it was for mysterious purposes...
Observations of these monstrosities had little use since their aura alone was enough to scare Linlin and the snake-turned-man away before any proper thought could take root in his mind.
However, it helped him slowly adapt to this strange body he was trapped in, which wasn’t fun for Linlin, since he instinctively feared losing something much more important. What that something was, our protagonist couldn’t exactly pinpoint...
He also felt a bit delighted, a contradictory feeling that could only be explained by underlining what happy circumstances allowed him to finally abandon that swallowed stick without getting grounded.
The hellish thing was very painful as it constantly chafed against his inflamed stomach walls, making breathing difficult. And that was not all!
Another truth he discovered–––which came as a surprise and caused Linlin to retract the negative impression he had of the snake he believed to be utterly useless–––was absolutely pleasant.
Reason being, that serpentine wonder seemed to instinctively instil fear in all that came dangerously close. In spite of Linlin’s belief that its effectiveness was declining the more intelligent a lifeform happened to be, the passive ability had become a lifesaver in these endless, horror-infested woods full of mindless cretins.
On one occasion, Linlin accidentally discharged a droplet of saliva on an unlucky lifeform that was baring its teeth against them. In no time at all, the serrated paw simply disappeared, leaving behind only bloody sludge decomposing everything it made contact with.
Yet another answer to a question never posed, yet another thing to be wary of. The paradoxical conclusion, then, was that our protagonist’s trailing body kept his original carrier safer than it had ever been...
Linlin’s companion seemed to have found its goal for the darkening day, as it increased its pace that much so that Linlin had no more time to think or contemplate freely in the limited form the snake brain allowed him to.
Even waking him up had to wait for the time being as subsequent events underlined.
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In the late evening, in a damp cave home for not-so-house-trained tenants, a mentally impaired human beggar fidgeted its way over to a corner where a heap of bloody stones and bones piled high towards the ceiling.
The snake was young, curious and loved to think. As a result of its partially sealed ancestral memories, it was barely able to adapt to its new form.
But that meant little to it. How it missed its streamlined beauty! The stable life... Too many things had happened one after another when it only wanted to rest on the warm ground. For the past few days, it was equally confused and scared.
Confused because what it recognised as its old body kept following untiringly right behind like a ghostly phantom. The stifling feeling culminated in a persecution complex that, in addition to the many unknown sensations bombarding its young mind, soon turned into immense fear.
Scared because there was nothing it could do against the unknown. There were a lot of useless bones that made it very difficult to move around the way it always did, as well as an abundance of useless teeth that could neither melt stone nor intimidate hungry ruffians.
Nevertheless, there were some perks as well it failed to consider. Though beyond its meagre understanding for now, the last hours of leisure escape made it… think.
More than it ever did. Given that it suddenly gained a brain that far outclasses what it had grown accustomed to, it was a predictable outcome. However, it was that growing love for thinking in its youth that set it apart from all its predecessors.
Many years later, it will understand what a significant windfall this uncanny event was. Our protagonist, too, often reflected on this crazy event, albeit for a much less positive reason.
In Linlin’s own terms, it was as if the computing power of a modern gaming PC had been switched with that of Whirlwind I–––mankind’s first graphic computer ever developed by the U.S. Navy in the early 40s.
Reduced hardware constituted a grave loss in processing capabilities that robbed him of the ability to handle and come up with sophisticated thoughts outside the concept of instinct and passive recordings of danger-filled surroundings he had to analyse at a later date.
When he got his body back. While Linlin bravely fought against dark thoughts, he saw his body bending down and his lips approaching delicious-smelling poop. Valuable nutrients! ‘N-no, nononono, no! Please no…’
It seemed that the little computing power left had been occupied entirely by screaming modules. While the snake dug in with great gusto its shit-stained face seriously smiling, our protagonist watched helplessly. In that moment a piece of his rationality was irrevocably lost... even his mind lurched.
‘Nooooooooooo!!!’
It was as if a bomb was going off, threatening to fry the insufficient hardware. It was in the midst of unbearable misery that Linlin felt what could only be a kick to the arse and... a mouthful of foul-tasting, squishy something slithering down his throat.
Minimum Required Stability Met, Unwinding Synchronisation
“Splurgh, Blargh!” Although Linlin was not a gourmet, he could not keep shit stuck inside him for long without feeling the need to move heaven and earth to get it out.
However, not every bit did what he had hoped for, since much had already slipped further down, tenaciously refusing to meet his modest expectations.
He groaned and cursed like there was no tomorrow as nausea hit him in the face like a pro-wrestler, cracking his apathetic façade. Amidst his misery, his brain rang further from the jarring mechanical voice and its belated announcement.
What a poor solution the house swap was! Despite whatever unspeakable danger the snake’s body protected him from... the cons clearly outweighed the pros!
It was like that one time Linlin’s dimwit half-brother forced him to swap rooms, which he found to be a stink-hole after only two days, effectively ruined and in a worse state than the trap-filled ducts below... ‘No, now’s not the time to remember.’
He unconsciously rubbed his bushy brows to remove the dirt and tried to forget, to stop thinking if that was possible. Rather than indulge in useless memories best forgotten, it was better to use time in other ways, such as trying hard to wake him up.
His mind was suddenly filled with urgency, and he looked more closely at his body. “Holy moly,” Linlin’s body was effectively in shambles.
Tough as he was, Linlin had at least no need to quell hard-to-come-by, ever-fugitive, surging emotions. They simply weren’t fond of him.
‘Think, you useless bum, think!’ Even the shame of having shit shoved down his throat was still nothing in front of the stalwart man that crazy captain had trained him to be! ‘Not about the past, you dolt. The future! What to do...?’
As Linlin ignored the useless hand dangling down at his side, he shifted his attention to the subtle bloody odour he distinguished from the stench of the cave, and the little creatures waiting to administer the last rites if given the chance.
Such as dung-beetles crawling towards him while he was preoccupied, the first already gnawing at his wasted hand. It was squashed right away. Quish!
“Creeeeeeeezzzzzzzzzhhhhhhhhh!!”
“Oh… shite.” That was a disastrous instinctive action, which the androgynous squaller did not fail to tell him about. In the cave, it was no longer dead silent, nor was it peaceful.
Suddenly, all hell broke loose under a cacophony of deranged noise. Linlin had only enough time to grab the confused snake by its tail, wrap rags over his right hand lest it fall off along the way, and take to his heels immediately afterwards.
A quick-witted decision, yet futile nonetheless. A flood of frenzied bugs poured in from outside. Many more blue-eyed creatures awoke deeper down the strange hole-filled cave that should have been impossible to chance upon so high up some gigantic tree, their vengeful eyes eventually turning creepily red.
“Crrrrrrreeeeeeeeeeeeeezzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!”
Our protagonist’s field of vision spun, his eardrums hurt, and mucus dripped down his nose along with a thin trickle of blood from the bloodshot corner of his left eye.
Linlin’s legs trembled as he wobbled further down the maze of holes and corridors as he prayed to Lady Luck to take care of him. Fickle Lady Luck sure didn’t have it easy living up to his demands!
Linlin failed to take notice of the minute changes his surroundings were undergoing in all that hurry...
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End of Part IV