Day 123 of 365 Days of Writing Prompts: Write about a character who can morph into any animal or human.
Shannon: “Show him what you can do,” my brother wacked my upper arm with the back of his hand. He was protective, so whenever someone would be staying for a while, he made sure they knew what to look out for.
“Not inside,” I reminded him, knowing my transforming accuracy wasn’t well tuned enough to handle enclosed spaces.
“Right, I forgot. Cornfield then,” he questioned.
“I prefer the woods,” I responded, and after a bit of a walk we were there.
“What’s your favorite animal,” Will asked the new farmhand.
“I like giraffes,” Paul shrugged, like it was an odd interview question.
My eyes went wide, “Smaller,” I stated, before brain could think about it too much.
He put up his hands, “Whoa sorry. I like wolves. Does wolves work?”
“Yes,” I gave him a nod. “That works.”
“Back up,” Will grabbed his shoulder directing him to a tree.
I jogged back a distance so I’d hopefully transform right in front of them. I always needed to run to set the change into motion. I think it had something to do with heart rate, I’d just run until I’d become wild enough to turn into whatever animal was on my mind. It was harder to do it in front of other people, but I knew revealing my gift would keep me safe. No matter how weird I must look throughout the process.
I had laser focus this time, and quickly transformed. I paced the rest of the way to them on four legs. Paul knelt down to my level, and looked at me in awe. “This is amazing,” he pet the back of my neck. People always acted weird when I was animal they couldn’t usually get close to. They’d always manage to ignore my human mind.
“Yes it’s great, but she can’t always control what she turns into or when. It could be a bug, a coyote, a farm animal, you never know. At this farm we do no harm to any living creatures. We are always humane, unless your life is on the line. Only then can you fight back, and you better be sure,” he explained, sternly.
“So no swatting any mosquitoes,” he raised his eyebrows at me with a smirk. I tried to glare at him, but I didn’t know how it looked through my wolf eyes.
“That’s exactly what I’m saying. I think you’ll fit in in well here,” Will slapped his back in approval.
Erin: Who am I. That was the question I had lost the answer to. I had morphed into so many different people that I forgot who I was to begin with. Outside of how I thought the bodies I hijacked acted, how did I act? What did the woman I used to be look like in the mirror? Where was my home? Who were my friends? I literally lost myself in others and I needed to find myself again.
Is your character a dog person or a people person?
Pelky Sisters 
The tiny tot, little over four years old, hopped around giddily astride a bouncing ball that had suddenly appeared in the night. Face red with exertion and giggles and elated shrieks echoed through the bright and warm home, the wind whispering carefully through the open chimney. Across the room an old stereo set spat out cheerful Christmas songs that the mother hummed deftly to as a fire crackled like a living being behind the silhouette of a fat tabby who didn’t care for the commotion one bit. As the mother sway softly, she held a camera with slender fingers to film the boy’s third Christmas morning; the first one with his father away at work.
Her smile faltered a bit as the boy frowned, squinted and crinkled his nose for a moment before sneezing with such force it knocked him backward off the rubbery ball. Carefully placing the camera down and cooing gently at the crying toddler, she lost sight of his scarlet and emerald jumper as he rolled behind the plaid couch, but she hurried toward his voice. When she arrived at the couch, sliding swiftly on her knees on the plush carpet, she nearly cried out in surprise herself.
There, lying in an adorable heap of spindly legs and brown fur was a tiny fawn, gazing around at its spotted body in stunned silence. Beside the creature were the partly-shredded Christmas outfit the boy had been wearing and glinting in its eyes was an intelligence beyond a mere beast. It began the arduous task of standing up, which involved leaning against the wall for stability as it attempted to move its long legs under itself, and the mother watched in fascination as her son-deer moved. After a moment of struggle, the poor thing fell back to the floor with a dull thud and its eyes shining at its mother in helpless confusion.
Moving instinctively, she pet the fluffy fur on its body and cocked her head to the side, uncertain of what she should do in this strange situation. When he wiggled his soft black nose she resisted the strong urge to laugh out loud, instead opting to hum along with the calming music and continued to pat the body. He wriggled out from under her hands and sneezed a baby deer sneeze and was thrust back into a pile of fur and, for some reason, feathers.
Suddenly, in place of a boy or a fawn, was a tiny bird, no bigger than his mother’s hand fluttering its weak, scarlet wings insistently. The woman sighed in awe, having just witnessed a strange and rare occurrence of human-to-animal transformation, before carefully lifting the feathered baby in her hands and resting him on a plush pillow. Out of the corner of her eye, she’d spied the tabby slinking toward the helpless bird and acted before the frustrating feline had a fair chance at her son.
After a few minutes of quiet chirping, the bird began to breathe rapidly and another sneeze came on. Before the woman knew it, there was a four-year-old boy sitting on a pillow completely naked with a strange expression on his face. She was about to speak when her son erupted in a fit of laughter and shouted at the top of his little child lungs, “Again! Again!” all the while squealing with joy.
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Jacey looks into the room where Heather is sitting alone. Steve left after she was calmed down, as he was called away. Jacey walks in, “Heather?”
The girl doesn’t look up.
“I’m sorry for scaring you like that. We only wanted you to have fun.”
Heather still doesn’t move, but whispers, “It’s okay…”
Jacey sits down, “I could have just shown you different animals. We didn’t need to leave.”
“I… I had, fun,” Heather says, trying to smile, “Fresh air was… nice.”
Jacey beams, “Pick an animal, any animal.”
“Why?”
“Just do it. It’s a surprise.”
Heather sighs to herself. Sammy comes to mind, “Golden retriever.”
Jacey closes her eyes. Heather hears the sound and looks up. She sees a golden retriever where Jacey was standing. The dog comes over and sniffs at Heather’s hands. Heather pets her for a moment, then the dog backs up. Jacey changes back.
Heather’s mouth twitches, arching up on one side. Jacey giggles, then changes again.
She sits on Heather’s right shoulder as a parrot, “Jacey wants a cracker,” she tweets. Heather doesn’t fully laugh, only blowing air out of her nose.
Jacey changes again, this time into a gerbil. She climbs down Heather’s arm, then jumps. She changes midair into a gecko, climbing around the wheelchair to Heather’s left. Heather then giggles outright. Jacey changes back to her human form, grinning widely. Heather takes a deep breath, and relaxes.
Jacey changes into one more animal; a calico cat. She lightly jumps onto Heather’s lap and curls up, mostly on her right side. She starts purring. It reminds Heather of the ride back from France, when there was a steady, calming pulse by her, lulling her to sleep.
Just as it is now.
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