Stumbling over to the moonlit window to inspect the damage to his hand, Elliott tore off
his black gloves and was surprised to see another pair of gloves, dark brown in colour,
underneath. Fearing that the electric shock must have done more damage than he
thought, Elliott tore off his jacket and threw it to the ground where, to his amazement, it
melted away into nothing before his eyes. With a pang of fear, he made toward the
window as if to escape but found himself slowing down as he got nearer as if he were
trying to wade through thick syrup.
Feeling a cold feeling in his feet, he looked down and was surprised to see that his black
sneakers were gone and that he was now wearing knee high riding boots. Even as he
watched, the cool feeling spread still higher and peering down in amazement, he observed
his jeans transforming into tight beige riding breeches right before his eyes. Now almost
immobile, he looked around wildly for some idea of how to escape and was distracted by
finding that he could see the top half of his body in the large mirror on the dressing table.
Staring in amazement, Elliott watched as his t-shirt began to transform into a white shirt
and black tie followed by a gold waistcoat and long, black tailcoat.
The cool feeling was now at his neck and as it crept ever higher, he noted that his face was
changing, a neatly trimmed, dark beard growing in over a stronger jawline. With a pop, a
shiny black top hat materialised on top of his head. Now completely transfixed by the part
of his reflection he could see, Elliott felt calmer but slightly confused. He couldn't
remember what he was doing here though the room did seem strangely familiar. The cold
feeling he had experienced as he transformed was beginning to dissipate and was being
replaced by a tingling in his groin, looking down, Elliott realised that he must have grown
because the floor seemed further away, the tingling was even stronger now and his mind
even calmer. He felt like he just wanted to float away, somewhere quiet and peaceful.
With a sudden start, Elliott realised what was happening but even as his conscious mind
registered the fact that he was floating backwards, his feet clear off the floor, towards the
old oil painting, he felt the cool canvas touch his backside and he melted into the frame
shrunk down to a size that matched that of the white horse. Elliott stood immobile, frozen
in time, the very image of a Victorian gentleman taking an afternoon ride through his
estate.
The one hundred and ten year old painting was a valuable work of art and the gentleman
depicted with his horse long since dead but within the layers of ageing oil colour, Elliott
stood proud with his horse keeping guard of the safe behind him and ensuring that
anyone else who tried to get into it would get more than they bargained for.