Jimmy had looked forward to this day for as long as he could remember.
Year after year he had heard stories of others who reached the transformation age, standing under a bright, full October moon and finally morphing into their wilder selves.
So many myths surrounded lycanthropy, with humans thinking either it was a form of madness or – if they believed it to be real – the result of a horrible curse.
But for those in The Culture, it was simply nature taking its course, no different than experiencing a voice change or seeing hair sprout in tender places.
Most took on a wolf-like appearance and hunted under cover of darkness, joined by their parents and friends. And just as wolves rarely attack people, neither did members of the The Culture – although deer were fair game and raccoons occasionally found themselves on the wrong side of sharp teeth.
There was also an unfortunate incident several years earlier involving the Star Trek cosplayer dressed as a Tribble, but that was rarely talked about except during Star Trek conventions and the Strange But True Animal Attacks podcast.
Following the first kill, the newly transformed would usually wake up in tattered, bloody clothes, with only a spotty memory of what happened the night before. Over time, though, they’d learn to retrace their every move and gain complete control of the beast within. As adults, they would become valued and trusted leaders of the pack.
On this particular night, only Jimmy’s parents – Leonard and Mavis – were around to oversee his ceremony.
They had kept their nocturnal activities out of their son’s sight. It was standard practice; a rule of thumb was to “never show what they will become until it’s time to become the thing never shown.”
“I don’t see anybody else,” Jimmy said as he walked with them toward the clearing where the ritual would take place. “From what I hear at school, the newly transformed in The Culture make it a big party. And everybody wears robes.”
Leonard and Mavis had no robes. They were dressed in their usual garb – blue track suits, reflective running shoes and fluorescent yellow headbands.
“No, honey,” Mavis replied. “It’s just us. It’ll make more sense to you later. Just stand in the circle we drew there and we’ll go ahead and get started.”
Leonard stepped forward, produced a piece of paper from his left pocket, and began to read the sacred words:
By the light of the moon, and the power of the night
It’s the eye of the Tiger, it’s the thrill of the fight
A Survivor lyric might seem out of place
Buy you’ll forget all about it once fur’s on your face
Enjoy the journey, it’s about to begin
Oh, Didelphimorphia, take over this skin!
With that, Jimmy felt a strange sensation, as though his head was becoming elongated and his ears were growing larger. Although his eyes began to blur, he noticed gray fur popping up on his arms and felt his teeth rearranging in his mouth.
And then, he passed out.
Hours later, the morning sun pierced the window in Jimmy’s room, and the young man groaned as he rolled out of bed. His clothes were mostly intact, although he appeared to have dog food splattered on his shirt and he smelled of week-old garbage.
He remembered little of the night before, although he did seem to have a slight recollection of hissing at a cat.
He rose to his feet and prepared to head downstairs when he heard a perfunctory knock signaling the entrance of his parents.
“Mom, dad … what happened last night?” he wanted to know.
“Sit down, son,” Leonard said. “It’s time we told you everything.”
Jimmy plopped down on the edge of the bed while his dad took a knee.
“Jimmy,” Leonard said. “I know how much transforming means to you. And I know you thought this was all part of becoming part of The Culture … those who claim to be well-bred. But that’s just not who we are. And that’s never who we’re going to be.”
“Son, we’re Possum Folk.”
Jimmy had heard of some kids turning into dogs – even coyotes – but manifesting as a marsupial was rarely even whispered about.
“I thought on transformation night we all go on this great hunt,” Jimmy said. “Is that not what happened?”
Mavis walked over and sat on the bed next to her child.
“Well, I guess it depends on how you define ‘hunt,’” she said. “Your father and I knocked over a garbage can and found some Chinese food. You ended up wandering over to the Jemison’s porch and eating some of their dog Ringo’s food. We ate, and then we came home. Really, things went pretty well, all things considered.”
Jimmy had imagined running wild in the forest, wind slicing through his fur and eyes glowing as he moved in for a kill – apex predator-style.
Instead, when the full moon rose and he transformed, he’d most likely hit a top speed of four miles per hour, and only then because he got spooked by a motion-activated sprinkler.
Jimmy shook his head and sighed.
“This is such a huge letdown,” he said.
“It shouldn’t be,” Leonard stressed. “The important thing is that you wake up every day being the best Jimmy you can be and – when it’s transformation night – just be the best werepossum you can be and never be ashamed of who you are.
“Do that, and your mom and I will always be proud of you. We only ask one thing.”
Jimmy looked at them, fighting back tears.
“What’s that?” he asked.
Mavis smiled. “Stay out of the road,” she said. “It can be really dangerous … especially after dark.”
