A short story about two residents from the seaside town of Quayport. With every year, the annual parades and festivals grow all the more lavish, and now, even the costumed characters on display seem too realistic to be believed. As Brooke and Carver investigate just how it's all done, it becomes clear something very unusual is afoot.

Read on,

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Brooke and Carver weren’t unpleasant lads, even if they did ignore the words 'Keep Out'. Just two well-to-do boys in what many would consider a prosperous, plentiful town. A place by the coast, wreathed in lush woodland. Quayport was its name, and whether the sun shone upon its beaches in Summer, or the lights glowed along the harbour in Wintertime, it always knew the profit of tourism.

Quayport was built on tourism. And those boys knew this.

In the dark of this muggy Summer’s night, Brooke’s muddy shoes were drenched as he walked through a puddle. Carver’s jacket, a prim and sporty thing, wore its grass stains like medals as he trudged through tangled overgrowth. You wouldn’t think to find any in prosperous, well-kept Quayport, but their destination was hardly the sort of place you’d find a tourist taking photographs.

What really boosted the port town’s reputation were the fetes, and festivals. There was a lot of history and myth surrounding a town so old, and among them were tales of fascinating beasts, with fascinating powers. As such, the streets would often know processions of parades, in which people dressed as those beasts. The reactions were always the same. How did they look so realistic, people wondered. How did they mimic the calls of animals so well?

Well, Brooke and Carver hadn’t the answers, but they did ask the very same questions. When you visit a place like this, you simple pack up and go, eager to tell your friends back home. But when you live here, those curious questions never stop hounding you. And so Brooke didn’t mind getting his socks all wet – this trek was worth it. Carver didn’t bother about the grass stains – this trip was worth it!

‘I told you to bring the keys. Did you?’ asked Carver.

‘I had them the last time you asked,’ replied Brooke, in a whisper, as he stepped over another puddle. This path was an out-of-the-way, neglected thing. ‘Which was, I think, three minutes ago.’

‘This place just gives me the creeps, Brooke. What if my Dad saw me, like this? Skulking around, with my jeans all sodden.’ He said it quietly, brushing a hand through his short, blonde hair. He was definitely one of the posh boys – a member of the “in club” the rich town bred. With hair and an accent like his, as well as that slender build, perfect face, and straight posture, you wouldn’t be surprised.

‘Never mind what your dad will say,’ replied Brooke, grinning. ‘What about all those poncy friends of yours?’ Brooke was rather like Carver, if a little more strongly-built, with longer, darker hair of brown, and a face that was no stranger to cockier, confident smiles. While Carver preferred to keep quiet and hidden in the background, Brooke could be found by the beach come rain or shine. The sort to be part of the crowds, be they friends or tourists. And yet, for all their differences, the two were the fastest friends. A detail that came as a surprise to many. The spoilt, studious one, and the brash, loud one.

Together, they clambered through the overgrown woods at the edge of town. The secret to the festival’s many secrets, they suspected, was hidden in an old building out here. A building that people had claimed – had sworn – they’d seen the parade’s organisers duck into. A building that once housed industry, until its owners went bust and the woods were made a heritage site. A building, therefore, that was said to be abandoned. Brooke always admitted one thing about Carver and his affluence, of course: it let him demand a thing or two, such as a spare set of keys for the place, courtesy of some unwitting contractor who once maintained it...

‘Come on, Brooke, open up,’ whispered Carver, as they approached the rusty, creaking iron door. It was locked tight, of course.

‘Just a sec ... Just a second,’ replied Brooke. It was hard to pick the right key from the big bunch Carver had given him.

‘They’ll have security cameras watching, and everything – don’t stand there counting them!’
‘Well I don’t know which is going to bloody work, do I?’

‘Oh, just give them here.’ It was a good thing they remembered to whisper, just in case there was some sort of security. Looking at this shabby old place though, nestled in the woods, it didn’t seem likely.

After a while spent fidgeting, the old iron door swung open. It seemed like a miracle that the keys hadn’t broken that rusty lock!

‘They were right,’ whispered Brooke, as the two treacherously stepped inside. ‘Everybody was right... look at this place; it’s clean! Someone’s been looking after it.’

‘Might just be maintenance. You know, to stop it from getting dangerous. Places become risky if left to rot and rust,’ replied Carver. ‘Or maybe someone’s bought it, and want to put something new here.’

‘Not a chance,’ said Brooke, staring dead ahead as he fished a little flashlight out of his pocket. Hardly a powerful one. ‘They’ve gone and listed these woods – gone and made them protected. Nobody can build or work in them now.’

‘Right,’ said Carver. He looked around, eyes darting, at every nook and cranny. What a dismal, spooky sort of place, cleaned or not. ‘Right, of course.’ He tried, though didn’t quite succeed, to hide the nervousness in his voice. Brooke could almost hear him muttering about what his Dad would think if he was caught in here.

Not that it was a foolish thing to worry about. Indeed, because the woods – and everything within them – were now protected, somebody could get in trouble for sneaking in unwanted. Brooke wondered about that right now; he imagined telling everyone at the beach about this place, and about the shocking things he’d find within. But, if anyone were to pass the story on, and if it were traced back to him... well, would it all be worth the trouble?
Summer would be over soon. Another season, come and gone, and all the friends Brooke knew down on the sand would depart, same as they did every year. Carver was lucky, since all his friends were local – he didn’t have to worry about them packing up when the summery weather vanished. Well, if this trip grew interesting, and if he did find something, then he would have a story to share before everyone headed for home.

‘Brooke!’ hissed Carver. ‘Watch where you’re going!’

Brooke snapped to attention, and realised he was wandering aimlessly. ‘Sorry,’ he whispered. ‘Right, come on, let’s have a look around.’

With his flashlight in hand, it didn’t take Brooke long to find his way through the mazy cluster of rooms, with Carver following closely behind him. Brooke could hear Carver muttering quietly, and noticed the hint of dread in his voice. Brooke might have been better at hiding it, but he had to admit, this place was... creepy. The very fact it was clean, and so obviously in use, yet was so dark. It made him wonder whether someone was here, maybe watching them.

But, before long, that dread was pushed aside by amazement. A brighter light caught the boys’ attention, glowing warmly from up ahead. One room had its lights lit, and it was as they nervously peered into this room that they saw just what was happening here. The parades and festivals were ever-so-grand in all their fantasy creations, but not even the craziest rumours about them weighed up compared to this! There were tall, glass cylinders, and ironclad cages, and glass-walled rooms branching off to the side, all containing... creatures. Neither humans nor animals, just... creatures! Neither Brooke nor Carver could believe their eyes, as they witnessed the silent, slumbering beasts. They were half-human, half-animal. Vials and tubes lined the tables in this room, as did stacked papers and equipment that made no sense to either of them.

‘Carver, look,’ whispered Brook, incredulously, as he pointed to a cage. Within, there slept what looked like a human but with the features of a lion – fur, mane, fangs, paws, and tail. They’d both seen someone who looked exactly like that, during the last parade. Carver definitely remembered asking Brook whether a build like that was even possible, costume or not. This, he was sure, was the same lion-man.

In other cages and cylinders, there slept humanoid felines, canines, avians, and all sorts. A cluster of hybrid species! Though there was nothing monstrous about the way they looked – rather, they appeared majestic during those parades – the very sight of them, here, sent shivers down the intruders’ spines.

Carver slowly crept towards a table.

‘What are you doing?’ whispered Brook, sharply.

Carver took a camera out the pocket on the inside of his jacket. ‘People have to know,’ he whispered in return.

‘What? But what if the people behind all this catch you?’

‘My Dad and his friends run this town,’ replied Carver, scowling. ‘Just wait ‘til they hear about this.’

‘Carver!’ snarled Brook, before cautiously joining him. ‘C’mon, man, don’t wait around in here. Not with... these!’

But, quiet though they tried to be, something must have heard them. If these creatures truly were half-animal, then of course, why wouldn’t they possess an animal’s hearing too? There came the sound of growling, echoing horribly through this dark place. It echoed from the farthest confines of the room, and a cage’s door began to shake.

‘Carver, we have to go,’ said Brooke, whispering no longer. But it was too late; by the time Carver began to read the stacked papers, that cage door flew open! Someone, it seemed, hadn’t latched it very tightly!

The beast that emerged was like a werewolf. A human’s build, with wolf-like features all over! That included snarling jowls!

‘Carver!’ shouted Brooke, grabbing the speechless boy and pulling him from the room. It was then that the two broke into a run. The sound of the beast in hot pursuit chased them, and it clattered and banged against the room’s furnishings as it bounded. The two didn’t care any longer for keeping calm or discreet; they ran at full pelt!

‘Brooke!’ shouted Carver, pointing towards a door left ajar. ‘In here! Quick!’ And, like Brooke had pulled him before, Carver grabbed the other boy and pulled him inside. Slamming the door, all they could do was stand still, holding their breath, as they waited...
Moments passed as slow as hours. Every breath they took felt like a clamour of noise, signalling their hiding place to the beast. They could hear it sniff and prowl out there in the hall, hunting. It didn’t make sense! These creatures were so lax and obedient during the parades!

There came silence. That horrible sort of silence, that could be hiding any number of foul things.

Then suddenly, something pounded against the walls of the room! Carver held back a screech, before whatever caused it – the wolf, probably – began to trudge away. The coast was not clear, however. That thundering strike caused the room to shake, and up above the boys were shelves... and upon them, two bottles. Before Brooke or Carver could even notice those bottles were there, they both fell to the floor with a crash! The boys stared at them, mouths agape. Those could have just as easily landed on their heads! One bottle began to ooze something a deep, slimy green, while the other oozed something blue... and before long, those odd liquids began to vaporise in the air.

‘B-Brooke,’ whispered Carver. ‘What is that?’

‘I – I don’t know.’

‘But what if it’s toxic?’

‘Well we can’t go outside with... with that prowling around!’

‘But... But...!’

And of course, as the two bickered, the rising vapour found its way up into the air. Like hazy mist, it enveloped Brooke and Carver, the blue vapour reaching the former, and the green the latter.

‘B-Brooke...’ muttered Carver, before desperately holding his breath to keep from breathing the stuff.

Brooke, despite his fear of the beast outside, began to reach for the door handle... only to find that where the vapour had touched his skin, there appeared deep, black splotches. Like he’d been drenched in dye, and it was dripping all across him! The black splotches shone, and they began to spread, swathing across his arms, his hands, his fingers! He could feel it, trickling all across him coldly! Panic nearly seized him, and as he tried to open the door, his fingers simply shivered.

‘Carver... Carver, what’s happening?’ he asked, voice shrill. The slick, smooth blackness trickled down his torso – he could feel it beneath his shirt! – before it reached his waist. Then his legs, and then his knees, and then his feet! The sheer, livid coldness of it was electrifying, and his hands – which yet wrestled with the doorknob – couldn’t help but ball into fists. Brooke surrendered the door, and simply fell to his knees. His legs were growing weak, like he just couldn’t muster the energy to stand anymore.

‘What was that stuff?...’ he asked, voice growing quiet with shock. But through the numbness and chill, there came a new sensation. A pulsating power, in his waist. It grew, and brimmed, and filled the panicked Brooke with a newfound strength. Strength that trickled along his legs just like the blackness had done.

In a panic, Brooke desperately took off his shirt to see what had happened to his body. And alongside the shining black, there were markings of pure white! If it weren’t for the shock of this, Brooke would have noticed that the swathing black and white were spreading up along his neck, overcoming his jaw, his cheeks, his face. It enveloped his head, though left his eyes and mouth free. It was as if his human hide were being replaced! He tried to stand, and regain some sort of balance, but his legs just wouldn’t function. They merely twitched! But through the numbness, and as his breathing grew heavy, Brooke could feel something happen to his feet. His toes wriggled, coldly, and within his shoes he could feel them... stretch.

‘C-Carver!’ he called. But the only sound that replied was a hiss...

Carver, meanwhile, stared wide-eyed as a slow and sinister swathe of green overcame his body. Done with possessing his arms, his torso, and his legs, it now worked on overtaking his head. As he’d opened his mouth to reply – or to shout – a slick, thin, serpentine tongue flicked from it. Or rather, from his maw. As Carver tried again to speak, finding only hurried hissing, the hair slowly fell from atop his head – short blonde strands falling away from him, only for something to grow in their place...

‘H-Hisss,’ he attempted. ‘Hsssssss!!’

From his green, scale-dressed head, a wide and powerful hood began to grow! That of a cobra, crowning the head that pushed out slightly into a snake’s muzzle; that had grown piercing fangs in place of human teeth! As Carver desperately held his head, he squirmed, as if trying to chase all this away. And as he squirmed, the very motions of his legs were growing far less rigid.... and far more fluent.

Brooke watched Carver as he staggered, though he couldn’t keep his eyes off his own changes for long. The black and the white had overcome his body completely, feeling slick and smooth to the touch. But if Carver was turning snake-like, what exactly was happening to him? The answer came as something tugged terribly from his back, pushing outwards into a shape that was pointed, but blunt. A fin. A dorsal fin!

It was then, through the feelings of dread, that Brooke put the pieces together and realised that if Carver was turning serpentine, he was turning cetacean!

As if to confirm it, the numbness in his legs was overcome by the brimming sensation in his waist. It surged on through his lower-body, forcing his changing feet to squirm and writhe, and as they did, he could feel them grow larger... and larger... until his shoes began to rip apart! From beneath their tearing, falling scraps, huge black flippers spilled forth, and flapped hard against the floor. Brooke’s mouth went dry, as he realised – from sensation – that there was no hint of his feet left in them. From the waist down, the surging sensation spiked, and he could only writhe as he felt his blackened legs begin to merge together. It took him all the energy he could muster – all the strength that survived through his shock – to remove his jeans. His waist had grown wider, submerged in a feeling akin to pins-and-needles. All so numb, yet all so electric. And the merging of his legs carried on, little by little, as if oily tar were pouring between them – sealing them shut!
As Brooke observed – as his breathing shuddered – he could feel a warmth unlike any other in his bones. Within his merging legs, they began to grow soft like wet clay, and reshape. Painlessly, basked in all these feelings, they moulded into one, long, thick limb, wherever his legs had fused. As his legs blended into one, so to did the bones within combine. And they did not stop there; his merging legs were growing longer all the while. Longer, and thicker! The feeling of them stretching, flowing, slithering across the floor so slowly was both nightmarish and incredible. He wanted to speak, or cry out, but all his energy was spent reshaping his body. Slowly and smoothly did his shining black legs combine. Fluently did they grow and spread across the floor, growing thicker as they merged. So easily did his knees, his shins, his ankles melt and merge into one long, fluent, flawless limb. And as if to crown the transformation, his flipper-like feet met at the heels, and locked together as one. Those flippers, right before Brooke’s eyes, had become a gigantic fluke. An orca’s fluke! As suddenly as it arrived, the tingling numbness faded, and so returned his energy. Gasping, he gave an instinctive kick, and watched with wide eyes as his “legs” – or rather, his tail – bucked up, and his fluke flapped! He slowly shook his head, not noticing how orca-like it itself had become, as he watched his (now naked) cetacean body explore itself. Those weren’t legs flowing from his waist... Those weren’t feet he kicked. They were a tail, and a tailfin. Brooke had found what created these strange creatures, and it had turned him into some sort of merman!

‘An orca...’ he gasped, clumsily finding his voice again. ‘I’m an... But this is... C-Carver!’
But Carver wasn’t listening. Nor had he noticed Brooke’s changes, because he was far too busy dealing with his own! The fluid feeling in his legs grew so intense that he could no longer bring himself to stand, and as he fell to the floor, he hissed out loud. He tried to prop himself up on his arms, but even they trembled as he felt the cold, slick feeling of green scales upon them. Right before his eyes, the nails upon his fingers turned longer, sharper, claw-like. He could only hiss – only breathe in quick frightened bursts – as his serpentine scales crept along his back, his torso, his waist, his legs... Legs that were beginning to grow and stretch out longer. Legs that were beginning to grow full, thick, and broad.

‘Wh-What’sssss happening?’ he hissed, in a panic. ‘Thisssss isn’t... isn’t what I wanted!’
As he squirmed, trying in vain to overcome the changes, one of his legs... swished. Swished as if there weren’t anything rigid to it at all. And the sensation that brought was a sharp, shuddering thing, racing through his body in cold waves. It drew another shocked hiss from his snake-like maw. As he propped himself up, another sensation began to brim inside him. It began in his waist, and the feeling bubbled, churned, and writhed. ‘I-I’m... I’m t-turning into...?’ He could feel that sensation slide and slither, oh so slowly, down along his legs. As it did, he shivered as he realised his now-fluent legs were starting to merge. ‘B-Brooke...’ he murmured, but the only reply that met his ears was a strange slapping, coming from Brooke’s direction. The sound of something heavy flapping against the floor. Carver could feel his hips pressing tight against his trousers, causing them to stretch and fray! His trouser legs ripped, little by little, the more his legs continued to bind. Nothing could stop the fusion, no matter how he twisted. As he hissed, louder now, all he managed was to hasten the process! With every movement he made, he could feel the surging coldness burrow even quicker through his body. His knees were assimilated. His shins merged fluently into the joining limb. His ankles gave no resistance, and his feet shivered coldly as their heels sealed together as one. His toes, now totally numb, began blending together into singular points, as all structure of his feet sculpted smoothly into... nothing. Just two, featureless points to his changing legs. And those points were quickly bound as one.

Carver hissed. He hissed, he trembled, he tossed his head back and tried with all his might to move. A sensation as shocking and powerful as lightning thundered through his lower-body, enough to make him gasp, and he felt his “legs” crash against a pile of boxes stacked by the wall. As they toppled to the floor, Carver finally looked behind himself, and saw what had become of his legs. What he saw was the huge, thick, room-spanning tail of a snake! It surely spanned thirty feet, coiling and piling in loops within the room! That sensation, and that crash... He’d swung his tail, and it must have hit the boxes. For a split second, Carver forgot the sheer shock of having changed, and instead stared in disbelief; he possessed the strength to move such a tail?

Carver found the confidence, somehow, to try and lift himself. Feeling the utter flexibility his coils possessed was incredible. Frightening. Unreal. He could barely think, lost in disbelief and in sensation. Lifting himself upon his spectacular tail, feeling the cold floor against his scales, he saw torn trousers, his socks, and his shoes lie in tatters all about him. Proof of his change. His shirt and jacket, meanwhile, were rather torn and clung tight around him. They were frayed heavily at the collar, where his gigantic hood had grown.
‘This-’ came Brooke’s frightened voice. ‘This is what did it. The animals on parade – they must have been people!’ It was now, as the two looked at one another, that they could see just what they’d become. Brooke saw Carver, and the immense spill of coils that filled the room. Carver saw Brooke, and the massive fluke that flapped silently – softly – against the floor. For a minute, there were no words. Just wide-eyed disbelief. To see each other like this was even more proof that it was real, above and beyond just seeing their own changes. There had been creatures like werewolves, bat-featured vampires, and centaurs upon parade before. Now, because they had ducked in here, there existed a merman and a naga too!

‘Are –’ Brooke had to clear his throat before continuing. ‘Are you okay?’

‘I-I’m fine,’ replied Carver, timidly. He was clearly trying to balance upon his new tail. ‘I’m fine. B-But look what happened! I-I’m a... I’m a sssssnake!’ The newly-made naga clutched his head in his hands, before hissing sharply in reaction to his hood. It was strange to see a frightened look on a snake’s face.

‘Calm down,’ said Brooke, though he hardly felt calm himself. ‘I mean, look at me! I can’t even walk!’

‘Well neither can I!’

‘But you...! I mean, I can’t move!’ Eyes going wide, Brooke suddenly realised the implications of all this. He stared down at his body, the shreds of his clothes strewn around him. He stared down at his orca tail, flowing massive across the floor. Not quite as long as Carver’s tail, but huge nonetheless! It was so heavy he could hardly move it.

‘What’s everyone going to sssay?’ muttered Carver, his proper tone mingling strangely with his serpent lisp. ‘I – I was worried about my dad finding out about this! I was worried about my friends finding out! What if they see... if they see this?’ he clamoured, gazing at the tip of his tail.

Suddenly, more sounds filled the building. The sound of the lights in distant rooms, turning on. From beyond the door, a shaft of light began to shine, growing stronger and stronger with every age-old light to burst into life.

‘Someone’s here!’ said Carver, slithering for the door. Slithering very clumsily.

‘C-Carver?’ said Brooke. But Carver just wrestled with the handle.

‘If they find either of us, they’ll... they’ll...!’ His clawed hands struggled to get the door open, and as he achieved it, Carver heard Brooke call out to him.

‘Don’t just leave me!’

For a quick, panic-stricken second, Carver considered it. If he escaped without having to carry Brooke, maybe he’d get away, and find a way to undo this. Neither his family nor his peers would ever know it had happened!

The lights flared, one by one, brightening the place room by room, little by little.
It wouldn’t be long. Whoever was here would find them soon.

And if they did, they’d never let them leave.

‘Carver!’

With a shudder, and a cold sigh, Carver turned as quickly as he could upon his immense tail, and scooped Brooke up in his arms. Carver immediately felt the strain of Brooke’s weight, and a coldness shivered through his arms as he tried to get a secure grip. His back arched, as if responding to the weight he now carried, and his tail curled and twisted as if to support it.

‘Hold on,’ said Carver, eyes wide with worry as he began to slither through the building. In the light, the place’s twists and turns looked different to him. And as he made his escape, he could feel the coldness of the floor beneath him. The textures of the smooth, polished floor slid against his chute scales, electrifying, tantalising, invigorating. Even amid the panic, he couldn’t ignore it. From the tip of his tail, to the breadth of it beneath his hips, it was as if the sensation egged him on. It caressed and basked him with every movement.
Carver began to hiss softly, trying to overcome the sensuous, slow feelings that were pressing against his coils. He tried, with all his might, to focus on what would happen if he were caught. He could not stop to feel these sensations – he had to flee! Shutting his eyes against the feelings wouldn’t help, of course, as he had to see. But the touch of Brooke’s slender orca hide didn’t help matters either. To feel such hide against his scales – his¬ scales – and to feel every inch, bump, and crack in the floor against his tail... Soon, it would prove too much. Soon, he knew it would spark something else inside him. He wouldn’t just look like a snake; he would start to think like one too. Something inside him just told him this, the more the sensations basked him.

‘A-Almossst there,’ he stammered, as Brooke held on tight. ‘I... I remember this place. The door isss... is close!’

The doorway they’d used came into view at last, and Carver let raw instinct take over. He let instinct guide his tail, letting every powerful coil direct itself towards his goal.
There came the sound of shouting. Hollering. It echoed through the building, before alarms started to blare in the distant rooms far off. It seemed whoever came visiting tonight had discovered the escaped beast. But those alarms meant attention would be drawn to this place, so he and Brooke had to keep going. Carver had to keep slithering!


Deep in the woods, Carver’s energy was ready to give up. The lab’s floor was a sensation, but to feel all these sticks, stones, roots and plants under his tail... It drove his mind further from human thought.

‘T-Thank you,’ whispered Brooke, tiredly. After sometime spent slithering, Brooke explained to Carver that he began to feel dry. And so their first port of call was the sea. Carver kept slithering, hissing softly through his tired breaths, before the tree-line eventually gave way to the coast. To a silent, unspoilt portion of it, lapped at by the waves. Moonlight shone down upon the water, dying the crest of every wave a shining silver.
‘Just keep yourself safe,’ said Carver, as he carefully placed Brooke down into the shallows. ‘We’ll meet here at this very spot, right? Right now, you duck under, and I’ll keep... slithering. Tonight, they’ll be searching through the woods for ages – I need someplace to hide.’

‘You’ll be okay?’ asked Brooke, as he drifted out gently and bobbed in the water. The moonlight shone upon him brightly, though he didn’t look so sure of the water yet.

‘I’ll be fine,’ Carver lied. ‘Now go on, I’ll... I’ll see you tomorrow!’

And as the two parted ways, for now, Carver took a deep breath as the sensations of slithering met his scales again. As that sensation burrowed into his body, it began to burrow into his mind once more. It mingled with his thoughts, and though he fought with every inch he moved, the sensations and thoughts began to blend...
It was an empowering feeling. Just how much power had he, really? The sort of power Quayport’s people couldn’t even dream of, surely. Could that kind of power, perhaps, rival the power of those who ran this town?...