Statement: I have been a coward before. Coach Madison, called Coach Big Balls by a certain mouthy female, had wanted to fight me to the death. He’d screamed obscenities and for me to come out of hiding. I did not, and simply left. This likely saved my life. It serves as further proof that these secrets people speak of, do have an impact. While I don’t perfectly recount every stray thought I’ve had upon these past bits of advice, know that they shape everything I’ve done.

I took a mental inventory of the last few days. None of it was extremely good. My few gains had been offset by losses. It took me a few minutes to get myself upright and figure out what action to take next, besides running to Crown State Park, which would take me weeks without the donkey and cart.

Positives were as follows:

New spell of unknown abilities

Little Shade implied assistance keeping Stella safe

Redheaded style eye candy

Having stashes around town proved worthwhile

Wet, freshly showered, insanely attractive eye candy

Negatives were as follows:

My party had ventured off, probably assuming my death through Allegra

I had no money on my card to buy anything

Excessive damage that took time to recover from

Supplies were low

Little Shade & Midge had no problems hurting me to make a clean break

There were a few options on what to do immediately. Above all was the new spell. I spent two hours figuring out what formation to put my fingers into and practicing until it became second nature.

The newest spell functioned almost the same as Hawthorn’s body. I placed the five points onto my chest and felt myself change. This didn’t come with euphoria and pants-tightening lust. Instead, my arms swelled to outrageous proportions. My legs bulked, and height stretched upward.

The air was thick. I could smell scents that weren’t there before. I snorted and felt the urge to smash the flimsy and useless lamp still sitting on the table’s edge.

“That is most foul,” I said dryly while plugging my nose.

My hand was huge. The rumbling and oddly well-mannered voice freaked me out. I fell back in fright of being punched in the face by my own meaty fist. My rear hit the floor.

It took me a moment to calm down. I half expected Midge to show up out of nowhere, tell me that Little Shade had forgotten her panties, and hit me again with an electric shock. She didn’t, and I managed to relax.

Wearing a new body had been easier with Hawthorn. He had the same height as regular me but a narrower build. This form stretched and bulked. Each movement felt like a dozen more muscles activated and swung in unison. I wondered how strong I’d become.

I intended to say, “This works” but instead said, “This is indeed what I had asked for” in a deep rumbling voice. It sounded professional. The tone reminded me of my old principal, a man whose pep rally speeches felt out of place. He’d belonged in a library instead of the basketball court.

It did not connect well with the mass of muscles making up my current form. My mental inventory came up short. There were too many issues to explore. The best answer was to take a bath and simply avoid thinking about anything too awkward.

I went into the bathroom. The water had drained but a dozen bottles were open. Their scents filled the previously closed space and spilled out into the front room. With my new sense of smell the fruity fragrances were even more intense.

Post Note: I will… gloss over the next bit. Here are the details any reader can use to string together the remaining details. First, shampoos apparently worked on this new form, in a similar fashion to how mini-orcs were affected by perfumes. Second, Little Shade had left me with enough mental fuel for days. Third, this new form came equipped with a “jawbreaker.” Fourth, and this is perhaps the worst, I could smell Little Shade’s prior activities in the room. She had gotten clean, dirty, then clean again.

After a few repeat performances, I’d managed to peel off the rune, and returned to being Lance. I commenced with a shower and washed away the evidence with what little bath water remained in the tank. I left the bathroom feeling euphoric and disappointed that I’d broken the sink in my… urgency.

It was for the best that I hadn’t tried that spell sooner. Being Hawthorn was bad enough. Being a giant muscle-bound brute and losing all sense of reason in a lust hazed frenzy would be difficult. I wondered why these forms were so hung up on sex, and realized there were too many reasons to account for.

Post Note: Here are two that come to mind. First, these faerie tale creatures seem far more primal. Secondly, humans may be far more “hung-up”—or repressed. This is perhaps the dividing line between man and beast, or man and myth.

The bathroom was sealed up. The perfume smell faded slowly. I ate more food and rested on the unsullied couch, not willing to try out my new spell until those dangerous scents had completely settled. Sleep claimed me almost instantly.

I woke to a banging noise. A white light pierced through the crack in drawn curtains. The lantern’s flame danced indifferently upon the desk. I crawled to a safe spot between the couches and readied my spells for combat.

The window thumped again. I lifted an arm and prepared to toss the explosive rune at the first creature to come through. Nothing came. The silence stretched on until I became drowsy once more. I planted the rune on the floor in front of me then took blankets into a bedroom closet and hid.

Sometime later I woke from fitful sleep. There were no other sounds from beings creeping around the house. Only my breathing filled the air. I stayed quiet and listened for a hint of monsters in the yard or rumbling down the street.

It took me a moment to remember my natural stealth abilities. It had only been a month or so in this new world and I still felt uncomfortable in new places. Last night I hadn’t spent enough time searching the area or securing a place to sleep. I’d been lulled, foolishly, by Little Shade’s presence earlier. Honestly, it surprised me that no monsters had come out of the darkness trying to eat me while I, relieved myself, in the bathroom.

“I’m still alive,” I told myself. “It’s a new day. I’m still alive.”

My eyes closed as I huffed.

“Focus on what’s next. Think about it logically,” I whispered. My head dipped in a nod. Today would be another day of getting answers. By nightfall, I’d be on my way out of town to catch up with the others. Maybe I could find a bike or a skateboard.

That was actually a great idea. A skateboard took more energy, but with a backpack full of supplies and a fast means of transportation, I could cut days off my travel to Crown State Park. By then I should be able to help the others a little bit, or, worst case scenario, pick up the mission if they’d suffered defeat.

The thought that they might die made me seize. I told myself that I only cared as long as they were useful, which was partially true, but their deaths would put Stella’s future in jeopardy.

Spell experimentation would be next. I slapped on the hulking body once more and studied myself in a mirror. The body reminded me of the Ogre King. All brawn and zero body fat. It was as if someone had injected steroids into me, turned the workout dial up to twelve, and compounded that once more.

I had no hair. That was new. Hawthorn had hair and eyebrows. This new body didn’t. While it wasn’t necessary, I wanted to figure out if this form would be part of Lance’s identity, or Hawthorn’s, or something else entirely.

“I am a…” The words died. I’d been about to call myself a goat but that failed. Lying was still apparently taboo. Which was consistent across all forms.

“I am…” The words died a second time. This would not do to call myself by either Lance or Hawthorn. They were radically different. Lance had a beanpole body and baggy-eyed gaze. He spoke clinically.

Post Note: Yes, I’m aware that I had a beanpole body and baggy-eyed gaze. Lance is me. Hawthorn is me. Yet at times they’re not. Almost as if they’re two different roles. It was at this point I recalled what those three stewardesses said. They’d spoken each of my names as if they were separate beings.

“Underwood. Mister Underwood,” I said after much thought. “I am Mister Underwood.”

Being called my father was strange. The name fit though. This form certainly had the imposing stature of a Mister. If anyone argued I could flick their foreheads and send them flying. I reached toward a wall and tested the flicking motion. It broke the plaster as sure as a punch from Hawthorn.

My request had been for power. I’d gotten it. So, now I had a new name and a third form. I glared at the spell book in front of me. It looked tiny and fragile now. My hand fit over the entire book, the material was warm.

I frowned and decided to test the other spells to see if there were any combination effects or changes in the old items.

Post Note: I almost wish the two spells had overlaid each other without problem. I imagined a hulking version of Hawthorn spouting innuendoes in a professionally suave tone, and lost half an hour giggling to myself and smiling. That being said, I would have been made of pure testosterone and libido, which might have ended poorly for my ability to reason.

The explosive spell had changed. It refused to stick to objects anymore. I tested attaching it to myself but remembered the last time I’d experienced a boom at close range. That would have to wait until later.

My third spell, the black pit of item storage, still worked. The net and knife were unchanged. I’d hoped the knife might turn into a giant two-handed sword but magic hadn’t agreed with me. My wine flute felt extra useless considering a single finger of this Mister Underwood body was almost the same size. It’d be faster to scoop water out of a pond.

The ogres might recover from the damage we’d done before I caught up. Worst case I’d have to complete the mission myself, and I barely understood what we needed to do once getting to Crown State Park. Allegra was going to scout for sources of power when we got to the entrance. Callisto suggested we avoid talking about it before getting there. Her reasoning was too much thought ahead of time would cause us to take the sabotage mission on the Ogre King lightly.

Arson handled the equipment. He brought everything. I suspected his cart had a storage spell or some similar magic on it. It didn’t matter. I needed to find them and survive the wilderness before worrying about anything else.

I acquired a fresh set of clothes from the house. The pants were loose, and the only shirts were button ups made for a tall man with no shoulders. They did not fit Mister Underwood, meaning when I used this bigger form I’d be topless.

Lance would be easier to travel in. I stopped my experiments but stayed in the new form for practice. My meaty hand crushed the doorknob instead of unlocking it. The air outside smelled damp and the ground had signs of being flooded by water. This mattered because footprints weren’t invisible, and mini-orcs were annoyingly good trackers.

Post Note: This is a fact learned from the last month. Scouting the town was easy. Avoiding notice while moving was also easy. Stopping too long in one place would almost always result in mini-orcs poking their disturbingly gross tusks around while whispering, “Treats?”

On the road, there would be no trails to follow. The overgrown grass and muddy corners from unwashed streets made it hard to avoid a few footprints. I kept an eye out for any house which might have bikes or skateboards. Nothing was obvious this far after the world had changed. Most houses looked the same.

I couldn’t remember finding any transportation device. There were cars, but they were ruined with flat tires, broken doors, bashed windshields and sand for batteries. I checked open garages but anything of use had been picked over. It didn’t stop me. The only choices were to keep going or give up. I’d never been a quitter. Drug laden and reclusive, but not a quitter.

Then it hit me. Maybe the pawn shops downtown would have something of use. Pawn shops always had bikes and guitars. It was that or go back to the housing near the library and see if Coach Madison’s stashed goods had been ransacked. No, that was too far and not in the right direction.

The street on the way out of town had two shops. I held no illusions that they’d be in one piece. Knowing my luck, they’d be dungeons or have some powerful monster sitting behind the counter. I expected to be attacked by the monster or be told the bike would cost two thousand bucks, which I’d never be able to afford. Or he might send me on a quest to raid the local field of little monsters, gather seven plums from a sacred tree, then venture to the roof of a nearby house and mix a bowl at midnight under some moonlight.

I walked slowly to the edge of town. No useful resources presented themselves to help speed my way or serve as a weapon for this other form I’d gained. My legs still hurt with each step but the pain faded as time passed.

Pawn shop, then venture out of town toward the park. Without that super powerful item, which I still didn’t know the details on, we’d probably be doomed. No one seemed willing to relocate somewhere safe. That meant Stella would die as soon as the ogre army grew powerful enough. I couldn’t kill the ogre as Hawthorn, it might be possible with this new shape but I’d lose time trying. Both time loss and my niece’s death were unacceptable possibilities.

It came down to trust. I simply didn’t trust Callisto and the others to succeed without me.

Post Note: Now, if this seems like a lot of pointless mental wandering, it’s not. I had hours to kill during the slow walk. My future plans were focused but the “how” of completing them all timely still escaped me. I longed for the days of cars and motorcycles, public buses and so on. Anything that could get me toward my destination faster.

I paused and attempted to absorb the sheer disconnect between my memories and the current picture. One thing I had not done since returning to this world, was venture outside of town. For a month and a half, I’d skulked around the city inspecting various areas and searching for treasures.

I’d never had a chance to see what the “gateway” to our city had deteriorated into. The buildings at the edge of town were ragged. Paint peeled off their sides, lawns were either dead or wildly overgrown by weeds. There had once been a city-maintained entryway here that had been watered daily, mowed, and the sidewalks carefully edged. All of that had clearly stopped.

Outside of town was an untamed wilderness. The former four lane highway was barely one crackled piece of pavement. The tree lines on either side encroached and their roots jutted out creating ripples in the landscape. I had no clue how Arson had navigated his cart over that mess.

I turned and studied the last line of our fair city. Rubble and torn up buildings sat there. Pawn shops right at the merger between town and highway had collapsed roofs. Broken glass still shone under piles of leaves and wrappers. The fast food and department store on the corner hadn’t fared any better. Nature had been steadily working to take over everything.

This much of an unclean mess could have been from the magic that took over our world. It could also have come from monsters, a lack of maintenance, or simply not having humans to provide wear and tear to nature. It would never matter why this happened. The only thing of note is I still hadn’t found a means of getting to Crown State Park, aside from my feet.

I would not have the supplies to last days. Even if I did follow the path down the overgrown highway, I’d be starving by the time I reached Arson. That would make me useless to anyone. The sun, which had been at high noon when I reached the city limits, dropped to early afternoon. I searched the stores and kept a hand on my spells.

There were monsters. Mini-orcs in droves, but their deaths were hardly worth mentioning.

Post Note: I mention them now only to illustrate that I went from less than twenty dollars on my card, back up to one hundred and six in the span of an angry four hour search. The math may be vague, but I’d lost some to Midge for her secret, lost more making the deal, and gained little in between.

Hours later I felt sore and broken. The sun would set on my third day since separating from the rest of my team. That was a day healing with Little Shade. A second day traveling to the sewage plant and getting my item. Then a third day being abandoned, testing my spells, and walking out here to find nothing.

I could run but my body still needed time to heal. I could go back to the park but then we’d run the risk of them failing without me. It might be possible to use the new form and run more guerrilla warfare tactics on the ogre compound, but I’d never actually kill the main enemy without a lot of luck or even more power.

The options were terrible.

I wanted to sit. My body had been moving for hours and I had no more energy. Healing from wounds didn’t give me an unlimited battery. I found a spot near the road so I’d be able to study the route out for possible problems. A bus stop had once been here but the bench was split in two and the undercover area was knocked over and its side panels broken.

The nearby wreckage gave me more than enough spare parts to repair the bench. The panels were harder to replace but excessive amounts of tape let me seal the bigger pieces of glass together. It should have surprised me that any of these objects, the broken glass, tape, and a metal bench, had continued to exist, but it didn’t.

The world made little to no sense and after a month, I simply accepted the changes and moved on. Most days I felt thankful when nothing attempted to eat my face during the night.

Repairing the bench took the rest of the evening. It kept my body busy while my mind bemoaned the misfortune at the pig barn. Without failing there I wouldn’t have met Little Shade and received the new ogre form spell, but I’d also wouldn’t have had to regrow any limbs and get left behind.

Post Note: Did I think that the others knew I was still alive? No. If they’d known I was alive, Allegra could have easily led them to me. Did I expect them to suddenly turn around for me? No. Because I wouldn’t for them. Did I have a sure-fire plan to catch up? Still no. The road felt downright ominous as daylight faded.

Mini-orcs were nearby, being led by a lantern wielder. I felt well enough to relieve them off their lives and took the lantern to keep me company. The stupid item wouldn’t convert to a spell, but if I did abruptly decide to walk down the empty former highway, a light would help keep me sane.

I set it on the repaired bench and went about propping up the shed. Near the fallen shelter was a strong pole with a bus symbol on it. The number was pure gibberish, like every other word in the universe. I used it to try to prop up the shelter long enough to get the two sides bound and reinforced with wood.

Post Note: It wasn’t that I even needed to fix the location. It felt important. It also felt like a way to pass the time constructively. I could also claim that it was a new drive brought to me by the ogre form—and those all may be true. But in hindsight I think the reason was more complicated.

This spot was where wilderness met “civilization” and the ruins it had become bothered me. I wanted to make it better, if only to tell nature to go fornicate itself. An act of defiance against the ravages of time and whatever magical overlords had brought about the end of days.

The sides were too heavy and my body too small. I didn’t have the strength to hold it up as Lance. After four attempts and failures that caused taped up glass to shatter, I remembered to use my other form. Mister Underwood would certainly have the strength and size to get this together easier.

I planted the bus stop sign into the ground like a spear and removed my shirt. Everything shrank as my perspective rose by a good three feet. The bench became almost dainty. I strapped the roof together using a giant board from a nearby ruin and wove rope around it. It took another hour and my body dripped with sweat by the end.

I sat on the bench under my badly repaired bus stop-shelter and sighed. The world had been simpler when all that mattered was rehabilitation, pills, and bills. The world had been easier when Richard called and asked if I was able to come over for dinner. Now I was pointlessly repairing places to sit down at the edge of town.

The lantern flickered. A sharp screech of tires filled the air. I stood and banged my head into the shelter’s top. The board cracked but held its weight. I rubbed the bump on my head while looking around.

Rule 9

Take Mental Inventory & Repair Bus Stops

A vehicle cruised down the street at high speeds. The tires cast clouds of smoke as rubber burned. Bright lights at its front blazed above a grill bent into a demonic smile. It fishtailed and spun twice before halting, ten feet away from the bus stop.

It made little sense, but there was a bus, at the bus stop. Logically speaking that’s where they belonged, but I hadn’t seen anything like this since my return to the changed world.

This looked like the exact same bus that had dropped me off at the corner market near my house. The sides were not made of metal. It appeared to be a varnished wood. I had no idea what kind of engine made this run.

Its door opened, and a foul round troll of a woman sat in the seat. She swished a cigar and shouted at me in a phlegm filled voice, “Well?”

Automatically, I said, “Greetings, I’m Mister Underwood, and I find myself in dire need of transportation.”