“How long have you known about this?” Stacey tried her best to be empathetic. The look of confusion on the tiger’s face suggested this was a new thing. For both of us, she thought.
It had started out normal. Daniel was a local pub manager, one kid (she had two of her own, no judgment there), into standard family activities like camping and whatnot. His stoicism, however, came off pedestrian. She had been almost bored, when suddenly whiskers grew from his beard.
Daniel began to cough. Stacey reached for the water jug, freezing as Daniel began to turn orange. After a moment she realized she was looking at fur. The fear on her face was mirrored in his as he watched his nails grow and harden.
Without a word he fled to the restrooms. Stacey sat there holding the jug, wondering what on earth just happened. She barely registered the faces of the other patrons. After several minutes, she calmly set the jug down and followed him.
Thankfully the place was quiet. Stacey stood in the corridor trying to come up with a plan. She needed to find Daniel…the tiger. She ignored the thought that she was most likely the one in danger. A low growl behind a set of ferns near the foyer mirror made it a struggle not to run away. Slowly, she made herself turn around.
There, crouched as if waiting for attack, was a tiger. A rather large, rather sharp clawed tiger…wearing Daniel’s necklace. Almost in reflex, Stacey extended her hand toward the wide eyed creature. He whimpered softly and leaned into her palm.
“What should I do?” Stacey was lost, both for words and ideas. The Daniel tiger just leaned into her further. A hug, she could do that.
294 Words
C.M. Wellsmore 