Normal things used to happen to me. Last week I grabbed a beer with a friend after work. The week before that, I learned how to knit a scarf for my dog. Two weeks ago, I did my taxes. Yesterday was my last normal day.
I took Dingo for a walk, my Golden Retriever. We walked down Oak Street, down to 3rd, and came to the dog park. I remember because I timed it so I could see Alicia. Every Thursday she brings her Boston Terrier to the park, after yoga. Since it's Autumn, it was getting dark. There she stood, leash in one hand and Starbucks in the other. It was a moment that reinforced my belief that yoga pants were God's gift.
That was the day I was going to make my move. Not a big deal, just walk over and say...something. I decided that I'd waited too long, might as well just go over and wing it. Dingo and I walked, Alicia not more than twenty feet away. As we neared, Dingo stopped. I tried to pull him along, but he anchored himself in place, sniffing some stick.
Looking back to Alicia, I saw Tanner had arrived. Tanner, probably a nice guy, was some douche that made it a point to be casually strolling by the dog park when Alicia was walking her terrier. Walking over now would be too awkward, even for me. "I hope the stick was worth it," I absently said to Dingo. Turning, I found it wasn't even a stick, it was an old bone.
The bone was a thigh bone from...something. It was weathered and had symbols carved into it. For a moment, I thought someone might have dropped it, but no one was remotely near it. I picked it up, and Dingo stared at me. I placed the bone in my pocket and decided to take it with me.
The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.
Taking the scenic route home, through another park and over to the cemetery, the moon had come out. Absently, pulled the bone back out to look at the symbols again. This time, they were glowing orange. I almost dropped it. When the bone hung there in the moonlight, my hand itched.
My instinct was to toss the bone...but I couldn't. I just gazed at it. Dingo started growling at me. The itching got worse as it spread through my body. Shooting pain shot through my fingertips, like something sharp was under them. Pain brought me to my knees as my skin split and claws emerged from my fingers. Hair grew all over my body and my limbs felt like they were breaking and resetting.
The rest was a blur. Tree, tree, squirrel, bush, dead cat. Blood on my muzzle. Dog park? Sniff. Sniff. Growl, animals running, people screaming. Car horn. Smell. A scent, something, something bad. Enemy's smell. Follow the scent. Trash bins. Breaking glass, soft carpet, STRONG scent. Man screaming. Man, Tanner. Tanner's screaming. Bite. Bite, attack, tear, rip, chew.
The next morning, I woke up in a dilapidated house. The naked mattress I lay on smells like wet dog. Looking around, I realize my clothes are nowhere to be found. In my hand is the bone with the symbols...or at least the symbols used to be there. Pushing myself up, I see not only is the bone completely blank. The symbols are now on the inside of my forearm, like tattoos.
"Welcome home," says someone behind me. I spin around quickly. "Welcome to the tribe." There are about thirty people politely sitting around the room, naked. "You found your family last night." Yeah, normal things used to happen to me.