Morningstar: The Malaise - 1. Chapter 1 All the Colors Under the Sun

Morningstar: The Malaise

Chapter 1

Kellar wiped steamy fog off the bathroom mirror, but the moisture from the shower replaced it almost immediately. Performing the task more thoroughly, he cleared it enough to examine the latest changes to his physical self. Muscles rippled across a chest that, a mere six months ago, was scrawny to the point of sunken. With each daily inspection he was greeted with the sight of more hair covering his body. It was now across his pectorals, on his lower abdominals, and his powerful legs were no longer smooth. He was still half a year from seventeen, yet he looked like a full-grown man.

His head too, was in the upper region of the mirror, a full eight inches taller than on his sixteenth birthday. At five feet, ten inches, he wondered how much taller he would get. He wasn’t complaining, but what the hell was happening to him? The frail, little boy he was accustomed to seeing reflected back at him had completely disappeared, and at a speed he could barely fathom. Looking down, he was still in awe of what had also added considerable growth. It was an embarrassment of riches, but he could certainly live with it.

Wiping the mirror again, his eyes played tricks, and for a split second, he saw a sort of halo, an aura made up of an astonishing multitude of colors, and it outlined his entire being. They pulsed in a pattern that seared itself into his brain, and then disappeared as if they were never there. Growing pains? That’s what Dr. Childs had said about his head and body aches. Well, it appeared there were new side effects to growing so quickly.

It was the muscular development Kellar didn’t understand. He ran like a rabbit, always had, and often away from someone chasing him, but played no sports. So why was he looking more and more like an athlete who’d done years of kick-ass training? He could feel new-born strength in every movement he made, from his neck to his toes, and it was a little disconcerting not to know the reason for it.

A banging on the door made him jerk in fear. Even though he was about as big as his hulking, older foster-brother, the prick still managed to make him feel small and ridiculously frightened. Lord knows he’d given him enough bruises. Charley-horses were a favorite method of inflicting punishment, and a common occurrence. Kellar had been afraid of his own shadow for so long that he couldn’t halt the conditioned reflexes.

“You’ve been in there long enough, dickweed. Do I need to break this fucking door down?”

Kellar recoiled at the hollered threat. It wasn’t an empty one, as had been proven the few times he’d tried to hide himself away from Warren Apsley, asshole extraordinaire. But things were different now. He was different. Clenching powerful hands, he decided to make a stand. “Can’t you use the shower downstairs?” It wasn’t what he wanted to say, but his church-going, stand-in parents and their rigid expectations were always on his mind. They weren’t cruel, but when it came to him, they subscribed to the ‘spare the rod, spoil the child’ doctrine he’d heard many times at Sunday service. Their can-do-no-wrong brat of a biological son had no such reservations governing his behavior, though. Karen and Don always believed Warren’s version of everything.

“I don’t want to use the one downstairs, so get the fuck out. I have shit to do.”

“So do I, Warren. I’ll be out in five minutes.” Wow, that was easier than he expected it would be. In the past he would have complied meekly. He smiled at the guy in the mirror, clearer now, like he was. Enough of the guy’s bullshit. His grin was almost feral as he went back to preparing his face for shaving what had become a ridiculously heavy beard. His peace was short-lived, however, as a loud thud sent the door flying open and swinging into his back, the sting maddening as it caught his shoulder blade. The smirking face, quickly glimpsed behind him in the mirror as he dealt with intense pain, caused a sudden wrath that blistered his temper, like flames he could almost visualize.

“I told you to get the fuck out… now do as I said… piss off.”

Kellar had trouble getting his hands to let go of the counter as he struggled with an alien fury. When he looked down, he saw claws more than hands before his vision took on a sharply reddish cast. From somewhere deep inside, a horrendous growl erupted, and it was a toss-up as to who was more shocked. He turned to see an incredulous Warren mouthing words he couldn’t hear. Thunder in his head was the only audible sound for seconds that stretched out like minutes. Another growl issued forth on its own accord, followed by a shove that sent his brother flying down the hall. He landed heavily on his ass, and that gave Kellar immense satisfaction as he stalked toward the piece of shit.

Warren’s words finally started making sense to a brain firing in a totally different way, slamming into him at a decibel level that infuriated him. “How fucking dare you. Wait till Mom hears what you did. You ripped my fucking tee-shirt. What the fuck is the matter with you? Jesus, what’s wrong with your face?”

For the first time in his life, Kellar felt dangerously out of control. He was a different person altogether, and he embraced the welcomed change as he stood over the freaked-out Warren. The powerful pulsing of his own strength was exhilarating, and he thrummed with it. “How fucking dare I? How fucking dare you, you bastard. I’m tired of your shit. You’re nothing but a fucking bully, and it stops now.” Why did his mouth feel so strange? Like he had too many teeth and too much tongue.

What in God's name was going on? A sharp pain on his shin got his attention, and he realized the prick had kicked him. His anger blossomed into something more. He went to return the favor, when the world as he knew it, ended.

At first all he saw was grayness, and then, eventually, bursts of exploding colors. Pain, more intense than any beating he’d suffered during years of living in group homes, coursed through his now-writhing body. Wave after wave of unimaginable agony distorted his senses, perching him on the edge of a rampaging hysteria. From far away, he heard snapping and cracking sounds that seemed timed with the stabs of pain. Was that screaming he heard? Oh fuck. He was being torn apart!

As if someone had snapped their fingers, the torturous spasms stopped, and the world began again. The first sense to return was his hearing. Hoarse whimpering lanced through his head like a thousand tiny spears, and he shook it. Kellar felt his whole body follow his head’s lead. His eyesight came back next, though different. It was sharp, incredibly sharp as he made out a multitude of somethings normally hidden within the carpet.

He focused on the form in front of him, snarling at it even as he noted the appearance of a halo of surrounding colors, just like the one he'd seen earlier in the mirror. They disappeared and it, the prey who was his brother began to scream in terror. Kellar could smell the fear rolling off him, and it assaulted his ultra-sensitive nose like a sour stench. With his first advancing steps, he looked downward at the weird sensation and saw… not feet, but paws. Holy shit, he had huge goddam paws.

He took a step backward in shock, finally making out the garbled words the asshole was screaming. “You’re a fucking monster. A fucking monster. Get away from me, you freak.” Warren kicked out with his bare leg, and before he could stop himself, Kellar slapped at it with razor sharp claws. Lowering his head, he issued a low growl, warning of more to come. Warren scooted backward against the end wall, clutching at the leg oozing blood from long, deep scratches. A salivating tongue slid from Kellar’s mouth, and he was hit with an urge to lick the fresh, red liquid. Part of him recoiled in disgust and he resisted, but he didn’t resist the urge to run. Fear of what was happening to him far outweighed the sheer hatred he felt for the creature he’d been forced to call brother.

The instinct for survival took over, and in two bounds he was at the stairs. In one leap he was on the first landing, and a small part of him marveled at his new-found agility. That was short-lived, however, as he tumbled the rest of the way down because of an awkwardly placed paw not used to the ungainly configuration of steps. The overriding sense of panic increased as he looked around at all the closed doors. He was trapped, with no hands to help him escape. The section of his brain which knew this house inside out, remembered the den window, perched high, but almost always open in summer. Don's need for a fresh breeze in the air-conditioned home might give Kellar a means to freedom.

A banging noise at the top of the stairs increased the feeling of urgency and sent him barreling toward the den, slipping and sliding on Karen’s precious, polished floors. Yes! The glass was slid to one side. The opening was perilously narrow, but it was his only option. With a mighty leap, he sailed through it, scraping his sides and tearing the screen like tissue paper before experiencing the long drop to the ground.

He landed like a cat in the blazing sunlight, but Kellar understood he wasn’t feline. There was no need for a mirror to know the changes that had been wrought. Frightened and confused, but no longer trapped, he launched himself over the six-foot privacy fence with all the grace of a wolf, and took off into the dark forest bordering the line of perfect cookie-cutter homes.