The Beast | Alex Gilkey (10)

Tip the bottle back, take a swig

Swirl it around, “tastes like fig”

This change cannot be hidden by a wig

Your muscles grow, your body contorts, “wow I am big!”

You are no longer a powerless twig

Hair erupts from your fair skin, and you let out a cry

A voice answers, “Soon you will have the wings to fly”

To soar in the sky so high

And wave your frail old body goodbye,

A swift metamorphosis from a weak caterpillar to a powerful butterfly

Your transformation finishes, not a word is uttered.

You emit a hushed growl and abruptly, your vision becomes cluttered,

The world is colorless as your body lets out a tremendous shudder.

You fall to your knees as your spine bends, as if being shoved into a tight cupboard.

Above you stands the cause of your transformation, mouthing a cursed mutter

Now you fall into a magical trance

A supposed ally, but only at first glance

Standing above you, stepping into a swinging stance

Was this truly your last chance

To finally advance

Her blade plunges deep

In an attempt to avoid the blow, you leap

Too slow, you are caught in the sword’s fatal sweep

You fall, landing in a jumbled heap

Your matted fur is stained red, and your weary body, finally sleeps