It was a strange day indeed at Fielder College.
Wendy stumbled her way through the halls of her dorm. Had she been in a better state of consciousness, the frequency of girls in jeans would have struck her as odd.
The weather outside loomed like the climax of a Twilight Zone episode. The sky was overcast, impossibly dark for 10:30 A.M. It seemed to threaten, not rain, but something worse.
She dredged through Physics, dragged through Accounting, and even slept through Film. She wasn’t alone. Every female classmate drifted off, absently scratched at their legs, or was absent altogether. The males just looked concerned or confused.
Lunchtime was no better. Every cafeteria and on-campus restaurant was swamped, and most sold out of any type of meat. Wendy found it odd that her friend Carla Zuckerman was on her second steak. Wasn’t she supposed to be a vegan?
Announcements were made throughout the day concerning Vale Health Center’s extended hours, in a vain attempt to reassure the students.
Evening was settling in. “Two hours early,” Carla told her. “I checked.” Wendy shrugged.
Her 6 P.M. Media Law class with Professor Liz Culbert was cancelled, due to illness. She wasn’t about to argue the idea. Her teeth had begun to ache, and the itchiness of her legs was getting unbearable. She thought absently about getting out of her clothes and spending the rest of the night in the buff. It was strange to think, but what wasn’t strange today?
Dizziness struck as she was exiting Langley Hall. She weaved her way to the nearest ladies’ room, and fought for space at the mirrors with several other students.
The girls stood in disbelief, gawking at their appearances. Each possessed long tufts of varying color hair, growing from their chests and shoulders. A black-haired girl in a Blink-182 cut-off had developed small points to her ears and somewhat claw-like nails. The brunette in the floral dress sported small but deliberate canine fangs. The Hot Topic fashion plate looked deep into the mirror, blissfully mesmerized by her own amber irises.
Wendy gasped when her turn at the mirror came up. She possessed all of the above.
The others were in near hysterics. They blamed the new skin cream they were using, or PMS, or some unknown STD, or a dozen other things.
Somehow, Wendy knew the culprit when she turned around and leaned against the cold porcelain sink.
She was staring out the hatched window at it, full and bright against the deep nocturne.
It was a strange day at Fielder College, but it would be nothing compared to the night…