The Lizard Wizard - Extended

Extended version of The Lizard Wizard piece for university coursework.

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I sneeze for the umpteenth time from the unsettled dust sprites using my home as a shedding spot. The glass tube I’m holding slithers between my fingers, though I’m able to recover just in time to tighten my grip. The murky green liquid swirling inside sloshes and settles. My cumbersome hat flops over my eyes. I breathe a sigh of relief. The last thing I need is another accident in the workshop. There’s a reason that the nobles all refuse to keep replacing my assistants.

Bah!

Humans have proven useless to me anyway. I don’t once regret holing myself at the helm of this old tower. Sure, it may be cold, dim and home to horde of dust sprites but the isolation is invigorating. Also, since I’ve situated myself upon the edge of the town, I am privy to the finest view of the forest. I removed the rotting wooden shutters to the window above my desk upon moving into the place, just so I could overlook this glory of nature every day, all day as I work. I find it inspiring.

It’s also very distracting.

Straightening my hat and cloak, I glance back over the workbench before me. A plethora of colourful, bubbling fluids encased in bottles and pots are laid out in disorganised form. Not even I know what half of them do. A wizard need not know everything, but only be unafraid to try everything.  Perhaps I shouldn’t speak so soon however?

As I reach over to place the tube I’m holding back on the table, I feel that well of burning discomfort erupt without warning in my nose.

“Ah…”

No.

“Ah...ah…”

Not now, come on!

“ACHOO!”

The force of the sneeze sends my body into a brief convulsion. Apparently, one so powerful that at once I recognise the implications of the tinkle of various glasses all shattering at once. Despite the open window, the smog that ruptures from the mess is so thick that it swiftly envelops the room. One inhale and I’m on the floor choking. My lungs feel like they’re going to explode!

I shut my watering eyes and curl into myself, collapsed and unable to sense the world around me. Seconds, minutes, hours pass. I’m not sure. I stick out my tongue.

I’m treated to the amalgamated smell of gases my little mind recognises yet cannot remember. All I know is it stinks. I plod and pace across the floor in frustration. Some instinct deep within compels me to wiggle my butt aggressively. The weight of something hanging limply, loosely dragging back and forth as I wiggle disturbs me, as natural as it feels.

I stick out my tongue again. The taste of fog still hasn’t dissipated. In frustration I dig my feet into floor, the roughness of the stone scraping against my appendages. By the intensity of the feeling I can understand that somehow, by all miracles, my horribly chewed up fingernails have somehow grown.

Let’s test something here.

I stick my tongue out one more time to lick at my hands. What I am treated to are not exactly hands. They’re dry, skinnier, with scaly bumps and small, sharp extensions where my fingernails should be. 

The physiology is rather…rather…

My mind is slipping. I’d say it was old age, but I had a good few years left. No, whatever happened is decaying my brain. I plod around in circles for a bit, constantly flickering my tongue in and out so as to stay alert of my surroundings. The fog appears to be dissipating into a thin mist that dries out my eyes. Despite my best efforts my eyelids don’t appear to move. Sadly, the only solution I can fathom is to wet them myself. Reluctantly, I lick them clean. The revolting sensation sends my body into disgusted shivers. Once this is over, I gander a look around the room. This proves difficult however when the midday light burns my poor little retinas. Pushing through this, I can see shapes, some colours but other than that it’s a mild blur.

How useful. No matter though. It’s as I said…something about not knowing and experimenting. I forget. No choice but the venture forth I suppose. It takes a few minutes to adjust to the awkward new placement of my limbs, though with enough effort I’m able pick up a nice scoot. Heading in a random direction, in a few circles, I discover that I’m somehow more easily manoeuvring around…

CRACK!

The smack of my skull against whatever object is in my path explodes in a blinding pain unlike any I’ve ever known, Sure, I’ve whacked my head on doorways before, but this?

This is excruciating!

It’s like my entire structure feels weaker than before. Discomfort flares, causing me to the scratch at the thing with the sharp tips of my little feet. A weird tingle, like the buzz of static, resonates between my foot and the object. Out of sheer curiosity I place my other front foot upon it. The same sensation.

I reach a little further, and further, until I find myself halfway up the object, clinging tightly. It feels a lot like wood. Too smooth to be a tree.

Wait…my desk perhaps?

Utilising the strange smooth stickiness I have to this surface, I glide upwards and over the edge, halting immediately after pricking my foot on an almost invisible shard. Curse this terrible eyesight. Flicking out my tongue by compulsion, the smell of blood mixing with in with faints wisps of otherworldly tangs catches my attention. Licking downwards, I swallow up the sources of the smells. To my dismay, for everything I taste it yields no results. I am still…still…

Reptilian!

That’s word I was searching for. I knew whatever it was, it wasn’t human. Perhaps ‘it’ is the wrong referral here. After all, it is I who is no longer human.

I suppose that’s not entirely the worst thing.

Tilting my stiff neck upwards, the remnants of my human memory recalls the ivy vines that trail down from the outer edges of the window. I feel my head bobbing, like it’s saying ‘yes, go on!’

Within seconds I skitter up and out the tower, eager to explore a world I never would have known as I was before.

An indeterminable amount of time passes by.

Journeying down the tower, underfoot of the peasants and into the forest exhausts my little legs. I assume the sky has grown darker, yet my vision has only grown sharper. I’m more aware of every speck of dirt, every pebble a fair ways ahead of myself. I’m able to dodge or knock aside each one. Still, as I clamber on I feel the weight of the fatigue bearing down on my body. My body sways a little as weakness overcomes me. I stumble my little body over to the nearest tree, collapsing into the curves of the roots. As I rest a familiar, almost primal arises in my…I forget the word. Lower body I suppose. A long and quiet hiss manages to escape my now lipless mouth. The excitement I had about this new form is starting to wear off as my body wears down. I probably overdid it for my first day. Damn it all, now I’m lost without sustenance, nor a home, nor a purpose.

A gentle breeze skims over my scales. It’s cool and soothing. I curl my body inwards a little more, adapting to the curve of the root that I’ve made my temporary bed. As I lay there, I contemplate my situation using the limited functions my brain has left.

I could always return to my tower. There I could potentially synthesise a counter potion to reverse these effects, return to a normal life.

Oh, who am I kidding?

Every second I remain like this the inner workings of my brain are changing little by little. I find my instincts becoming less and less human.  I’m hardly even grossed out by the whole shenanigans of having to lick my eyeball for moisture. I don’t know whether or not to be saddened by this. Do lizards even have use for emotions?

I don’t think I ever made much use for them in my human life anyway. Not the ideal emotions at least. There was a reason I’d spent so much of my time holed up there.

Bah!

To hell with them. I will embrace my new reptilian life!

If I can ever move from this state. As though the peasant’s god themselves have heard my rallying cries of newfound life, I am bestowed with a blessing. Something smaller than even I scuttles about my feet. One, then two, then a few. That primal instinct gurgles and at once I recognise it. The feeling that transcends human or animal nature.

Hunger.

I swipe at the bugs, trying to scatter underfoot, snatching up one by one in my claws before clamping my jaws over their crunchy little bodies. Initially the taste revolts me. I regurgitate the ladybug I only just devoured. Then I eat the next one. Disgusted shivers. No vomit. Eat the next bug, then the next one. I begin to grow accustomed to the taste. Then, I start to like it. I worm my way down towards the large root I’d been resting on. With a little scratching and slurping I discover the hole in which the delectable new treats had been hiding. I eat and eat until my new belly is full. I’ve never felt quite so full in my entire life. After such an event I feel as though I’m adjusting better to this lifestyle. If lizards could feel confidence I would likely be feeling it tenfold.

What is that!?

Something sparks my instincts. Before I know it I’m sprinting through the grassy blades as though death itself had touched my shoulder. No instead, what is touched is my tail by the cold piercing sting of what I can only compare to a large needle. I jerk my head around to catch the briefest glance of my assailant. In my panic all I register is something wriggly and long, blending in with the grass with demonic eyes. The monster clamps down harder on my rear end. My sense are so overwhelmed by the threat I’m shocked my body hasn’t gone into cardiac arrest.

It’s painful, oh hell is it painful!

And then, without warning, it subsides into nought but a dull ache. It’s as though a literal weight has dropped off my back. I don’t question it for now. I just run. I keep running until I’m more than certain the nightmare that assaulted me is far from reach.  Diving into a fairly thick clump of grass, I stop to breathe. Much like when I’d first been placed in this body, I wiggle my butt to vent the frustration. This time however, something feels…off. I spit out my tongue to taste the air to gather some sense. The taste of drops of iron on the ground clue me in.

Well, somehow this is less traumatising than losing a limb in human form. Something that may have happened. Once. Twice. I don’t remember anymore. Somehow now it’s not alerting my senses. I suppose that’s a good sign.

Still, my faux confident stature has been shattered. I’m certainly not used to having predators. Just another learning curve. It’s as I once said though, something about…about…

About…

About…

Hiss…

Hungry…