Strange Tales from Stranger Lands

A collaborative work between DaveDaweed and me, Aria. Fantasy? Romance? Horror? Supernatural? It's a total guess work as there's no planned plot, only one chapter posted after the other. One doesn't know what the other is posting! So please enjoy, the story where anything can happen.

On the open windowsill was perched a small, yellow bird. It stood still, peering inside just enough to find the apartment empty. Only it seemed so, ‘til a much larger creature disturbs the silence, knocking down a glass on the kitchen counter whilst doing so. The bird doesn’t react, only tilts its head and watches further.

A cat with black fur and green eyes makes itself known, pawing at the broken shards on the floor and the spilt milk. It makes a strange sound not so much unlike a purr, but still wrong. This peaks the bird’s curiosity.

It tweets and the cat looks up.

They stare at each other for a moment before the cat erupts into a vicious grin.

“Montgomery! You near scared me half to death!” it says, with the voice of a man.

The bird is amused as it replies, with a smaller, boyish voice, “You were always bit of a scaredy-cat, sir.”

The cat chuckles before nodding his head towards the living room, and Montgomery flies after him. It’s quick to see that the typical tranquility of the apartment had been disturbed in more ways than one. Couches, chairs, and the coffee table laid ruined and cut up with what Montgomery thinks are claw marks. The bohemian décor of the room has been uprooted too with bits of glass everywhere, rugs torn to shreds, curtains dismantled, and, he notes, an empty fishbowl.

The kitchen, and he supposes other rooms too, were untouched.

He again perches himself near an open window, landing on the window seat bellow it. Best to keep near a quick exist if whoever attacked returns, he thinks.

The cat nicks and sighs at the destroyed furniture. He seems to frown and shake his furry little head before whispering strange, old words to himself. It’s still a sight, no matter how many times Montgomery has ever watched Samson transform. It’s a transition of black fur sheathing beneath the recesses of human skin, limbs stretching out as paws turn to hands and feet, and his tail coils up into his spine until it was never there in the first place. Standing in front of him is the tall, bulky, dusky skinned Samson Morris, master shape shifter.

It’s been years since Montgomery had last seen him; he’s barely recognizable beneath shaggy long black hair and a heavy beard. Monty does however recognize that long, broad smile he gives me.

“Monty, my boy! No need for the propriety, the danger has passed, I assure you.”

Monty twitches, looking out the window. Nothing but clear skies and a busy city street. He sighs, shaking himself a little until there’s a burst of wind from nowhere, so fierce that Samson must look away. Ripped pages of books scatter around the floor and yellow feathers too until the wind seizes, and sitting stiffly upon the window seat was Monty Montgomery, a human too perhaps.

Thin-lipped, bony and blonde, Monty was the picture of discomfort. He preferred to be a bird, any day. In fact it had been even longer since Samson saw his friend’s human form then Monty had seen him.

With another loud laugh, he grabs Monty for a hug, hearing joints cackle as the man lets out a slight yelp. He sets Monty down again, still laughing at the man’s sheepish expression.

After composing himself and slicking back stray hairs from his forehead, he clears his throat.

“So then what exactly occurred here, Samson?”

The smile drops and shoulders slump. “They took my fish!”

The End

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