The Mimic in Monsterland

The setting sun dappled the forest floor in orange spots as the light trickled through the branches and leaves. I was following the sounds of water I heard earlier. As I trekked on, I looked at the scenery again. It was truly beautiful, but not totally unfamiliar. Memories of the many camping trips in venues much like this one poured into my head.

My apparently adulterous grandfather had taken me out camping quite a lot while I was growing up. And I mean real camping, like we didn’t even bring tents. Just a few tools, blankets and some hammocks. He wouldn’t even let me bring some damn trail mix. He said anything other than that was for “sissies and Fosters weren’t no damn sissies.” Funny considering he wasn’t even a Foster to begin with.

After the flash of annoyance that accompanied the thought died down, gratitude replaced it because without that knowledge he gave me, I’d probably be screwed in my current position. I knew my priority was to make sure I had fresh water, hence my search for the river.

While walking, my thoughts went back to my time as a log. I’m not entirely sure how long I sat there, hell all I really remember was what broke me out of the trance.

While lying in log form, I felt something jump up on me, a small something. It climbed on top of me and walked around. A rush of happiness overcame me as I now had evidence my mimicry was so spot on that animals couldn’t tell the difference between me and a real log.

But that elation didn’t last long. Suddenly, another new instinct took hold in my mind, a violent one. A hunger rose from deep inside. My mouth started salivating. That instinct wanted, no, demanded that I feast on whatever fell for the trap. In a flash of movement, I unfurled my body from its peaceful position and grabbed the creature. Just as I moved it closer to my mouth, I got a good look at it.

A squirrel. A cute fluffy little squirrel. Tiny black eyes shining with terror, squirming in my hands as I brought it ever closer to its demise. But seeing those eyes was enough for me to regain control. To break the sinister urge welling up inside. I dropped the little guy and it sped off into the trees. The instinct told me to give chase, but I stood there disgusted with myself. Disgusted by the copious amounts of saliva drooling out of my mouth.

“What’s inside me?” I questioned no one in particular. But a familiar voice responded.

“That would be the monster gene.”

“Heh, thanks Tutor, for that oh-so-helpful answer.” I said, before chuckling.

“Anytime.”

It wasn’t much longer after that incident that I found what I was looking for. A river flowed through the forest, about 30 feet wide, with unbelievably clear water. Without a second thought, I ran up to the edge and cupped some water into my hands and drank in the refreshing liquid. Fresh water acquired.

I threw off my clothes and flew into the water, desperate to clean off the sweat covering my body thanks to the humid heat of the forest. After my cleaning, I sat by the river for a while just taking in the scene, trying to ignore the earlier episode that almost ruined a poor squirrel’s existence.

But in a cruel twist of fate, my stomach growled, reminding me I hadn’t actually eaten anything today. In this world or the last for that matter.

“Just when I had gotten the look of the poor terrified squirrel out of my head too. I wonder how time has affected me here. Am I the same age here as I was back home?” I asked. Tutor’s voice rang in my head, taking me by surprise, again.

“Nope, you're a spring chicken here, 18 years old.”

“Are you just gonna talk every time I ask a question?”

“Yes, it's what I’m directed to do. I don’t have much say in the matter. If you could, oh I don’t know, stop talking to yourself like you live in the finest white padded room in the loony bin. I wouldn’t have to. Then both of us could get some peace and quiet.”

“Is there a mute button?”

“No.”

“Of course not.” I said in annoyance.

The sun had set and darkness fell on the forest. It is not wise to forage in the dark, so I settled on finding some sort of sleeping arrangement for tonight. It was too late to build a shelter of any kind and though I could probably just mimic another log and sleep; I didn’t want to go through another event like earlier until I could take more time to analyze my new power.

I ripped some tough vines off a few different trees and bushes with relative ease thanks to my newfound strength. Then I climbed up the largest tree near the water, another task made rudimentary with my enhanced body. I straddled a sturdy-looking branch about halfway up the tree, wrapped the vines around the trunk and my torso tight enough to make sure I wouldn’t fall if I fidgeted while asleep and closed my eyes.

The exhaustion of today’s events washed over me as I attempted to rest, but thoughts about, well, everything assaulted my mind. The rude voice that lives in my head, the weird but peaceful log form, and even the extremely pedantic God of Rebirth that threw me into this world.

But something in particular was bothering me. Terrence warned me that this was a dangerous world, rife with peril. Which is hard to believe considering I spent the whole day in an idyllic fantasy forest. And aside from the bugs, I only ran into one other creature, a now traumatized squirrel, which struck me as strange. After pondering on the thought for a minute or two, I concluded it was probably best to stop thinking about it or risk jinxing myself.

Even with built up fatigue, the unfamiliar posture was down right awful and sleep eluded me for a while but I eventually fell into a light, uncomfortable sleep.

Wind roared across the treetops, jolting me awake and disoriented. There wasn’t a cloud in the sky yesterday and no other signs a storm was coming, yet here it was. It felt like I was sitting in the middle of a hurricane that pissed off a tornado while being cheered on by a tropical depression. Great time to be in a tree.

I held on to the trunk with as much might as I could muster, the fierce tempest drowning out the curses flying out of my mouth. The booming of the ground crumbling and shifting as smaller trees ripped out of the ground echoed.

CRACK! A sound came from higher up my tree. Even amid the wind buffeting my face, I braved opening my eyes to see what happened above. My heart sank. The top of the tree broke. It was leaning to the side, threatening to fall down directly above my branch-bed. I didn’t know what to do. The vines I used as a security measure now felt like shackles. But untying myself seemed just as much a death wish with all the storming. Maybe my new body could handle it. I braced myself for impact.

Just as the final pieces keeping the top half of the tree aloft were breaking, one huge wind blast smacked me in the face, slamming my head into the trunk. A hit like that should have knocked me unconscious, but I stayed awake. There was a flashing light in the top left part of my vision. The red bar, my health bar, was less than a quarter full and flashing rapidly. Fear and panic began to overtake me. That last blast of wind had nearly killed me. Before I fully broke down, there was an abrupt shift in the air pressure and the winds slowed.

The treetops continued their rustling, but there was something off about it. The wind now had a rhythmic quality to how it moved and sounded. Almost like the flapping of wings; I turned my gaze skyward only to be met by the unbelievable. A hawk the size of a 747 beating its silver wings blocked the sky. The feathers on its body shared the silver color but were streaked in bright blue. Its truck-sized beak crackled with blue arcs of electricity. Every hair on my body stood as the static in the air intensified.

Its massive head looked around, scanning the area, until our eyes met. I froze. Sure as the sky is blue, I knew that was where I was going to die, in the beak of a colossal lightning bird. As its midnight blue talons flexed, blue arcs filled the surrounding area, dancing across the sky and trees. I would have marveled at the sight, you know, if I wasn’t about to be made a meager snack for the bird.

Once its large body shifted in the air toward my direction, those instincts from yesterday surfaced again, telling me to mimic something, anything. Clinging on to the feeling, my body changed and transformed back into the only thing it knew how to: a log.

The transformation was much quicker this time and in a matter of seconds, I was in log-mode. My limbs stiffened and contorted like they had previously. I urgently tried to play the part of a log tied to a tree.

The bird continued to beat its wings; the wind coming from them pounding through the air. After what felt like an eternity, the static in the air dissipated. Even as a log, I still had all of my senses, but I dared not open an eyelid, in fear that the lightning hawk would notice the slightest change in movement. The hawk let out an ear-piercing screech that shook the entirety of the forest and the very core of my being. I was sure that was its call to attack, but as I sat there waiting for my demise, the sounds of beating wings softened. As if they were moving farther and farther away. After mustering up the courage to open my eyes again, only to be met with a scene of pure destruction.

Upturned trees and other flora scattered and thrown around the forest floor. Holes dotted parts of the landscape where trees had once been. Some smaller trees had made their way to the side of the river and a few branches were in the water itself. Misplaced fish flopped on the bank of the river.

All of this destruction at the hand, well more like wing, of one creature. One that I’m pretty sure wasn’t even trying to cause this. The very act of being for the beast meant catastrophe for every other living thing around it. The panic in my chest died down, replaced with a new emotion, Dread. Terrence lied. This world wasn’t dangerous, it was impossible. If monsters like that bird were commonplace in this world; how could anyone survive?