My Cardboard Balcony

It's Happening by Belinda Roddie It's happening again - I feel my bones contorting as I hunch over the bed, the pain cutting through me like sharpened stones, the pins and needles stabbing at my head. Once in a while, my humanity tries to flee, and I become a feral beast, the transformation leading to my cries of anguish and denial. I at least deserve to be a man, without a curse mutating me into something bizarre, or frightening, or nightmarish, or worse, but no, this has to be the way things are. My words become gibberish on my tongue, and growls and howls escape from my scorched lungs.

"Could you show me to your best available room?" "Gladly," replied the clerk behind the counter, and within minutes, I was standing in the largest, airiest penthouse on the twentieth floor of Statesman Hotel. I set down my suitcase and wandered toward the center of the room, looking toward the window that appeared to envelope me with its glassy gaze. Outside were the skyscrapers and business building and mountains on the horizon - all capped with gold dust because the sun was beginning to set.