"Final Curtain"

a short story by David J Rust - coypright 1996



"Come in...  Please sit down."


I'm not sure how long I'd been kept waiting, but Dr. Elsie Sun-Feldman was never on 
time.  Since I first came to the Institute two months ago, she'd been the only one to 
make sense to me.  Her words had been calming and serene; her work with me, 
reassuring and helpful.


But, lately, it almost had been of no use.


"Th...thank you, Doctor." I said, as I sat on the chair opposite her desk.


Her office always looked different to me; I think it's because she was a compulsive 
knickknack purchaser.  Bookshelves lined her small ten-foot-by-ten-foot office and 
covered it in little ceramic Santa's, deer, anthropomorphic bears, tiny wolves and a 
host of other dynamic shapes from faerie tales and greeting card manufacturers.  But 
no matter how many times I came here, the little statues seemed different.  
Sometimes, I'd even wondered if she replaced them to pick at my insecurities and rub 
my own psychosis in my face.  But she was my doctor; she'd never have stooped to 
such a thing...


"Now, you say you've been having difficulties this week?"


I nodded and gulped, fidgeting in front of her.  I glanced over to the one window in the 
room.  Like a blind eye, it had never been open while I've been present; a simple, 
yellow curtain covered the only view outside of the Institute.  For some reason, that's 
always comforted a part of me as I sit and tell her about my troubles.


"Uh, well.  I ... I've been seeing -him- again..."  My stammered reply brought a raised 
eyebrow from Elsie as she continued to scribble notes.  "F...five times, this week..."


She nodded and leaned forward from behind her desk.  "I thought you'd not had an 
attack like this in quite some time..."


"I haven't!" I replied, frantically, "I ... I don't know what's wrong with me!"


She smiled and leaned back in her chair; her fingers steepling before her brow.  It was 
the look I'd seen on many faces before; one of certain knowledge and insight; a 
confidence in what she believed and knew that I should believe as well.  "Sure you 
do; we all know what's wrong with us ... it just takes time to admit the answers to 
ourselves."  She paused and brushed some unseen dust from a small wolf-statue on 
her desk.  "Tell me about the most recent event..."


Pulling my eyes away from that tiny statue, I shook my head and cleared my throat.  
"A...all-right..." I replied.  "I...it was in the lobby.  I was sitting there reading "Newsweek" 
when a medicine cart came by."


She nodded and made a note on her pad.  "And...?"


"And... well, I just sorta looked up, y'know, and ... and there he was..."


"There 'who' was?"


"Th...the wolf."


She nodded and stopped writing.  Silence descended on the room as I stared back, 
trying to hide my rational expression of embarrassment.  The ticking of an unseen 
clock filled the warm, room with impatience.  We both knew what she wanted and was 
waiting for; no matter how uncomfortable it was, I had to tell her everything.  It was the 
long-established pattern of my treatment.


Embarrassment was still my number one enemy in these sessions; no matter how 
frequently I spoke to her about myself.  She was a 'normal' ... a 'mundane', as we 
used to call them in Faandom circles.  I wasn't.  To her, all of my life and experiences 
must have seemed crazy and ridiculous.  People like Dr. Sun-Feldman didn't see the 
world the same way as a person like me.  I had always had my dreams of fantasy and 
magick.  She dreamed of politics, business and medicine.


I've found that it's like that with most people in the world; the practical day-to-day 
concerns overwhelm them and consume their minds and time.  They rush about like 
rats in a maze, trying to find ways to make their lives easier and more streamlined so 
they can afford more time to run around the same maze a little more.  The more they 
run, the more they stay trapped.  Then, one day, they wake up and their children have 
left; their youth is gone and the world they thought they knew is different.


I once swore that would never happen to me; but now ... I'm not so sure.  I'd learned, 
while at the Institute, that I could take my fantasies too far.  After all, isn't that why I had 
been brought here with the good Doctor?  The practical world I'd demonized seemed 
like my sanity's only hope.


"I saw him Doctor...  And it thrilled me."


"How so?"


I stammered.  "He was so handsome; so ... perfect."  I hung my head and shook it 
slowly, trying to forget how I felt that wolf surrounding me and encapsulating my every 
move.  "B...but th...this time, he gave me something."


Dr. Sun-Feldman cocked her head and leaned forward.  "Gave you something?"


I nodded.  "Memory."


The clock continued to tick on, the faded-yellow curtain to one side of my vision and 
the little ceramic desk-wolf to the other.  My therapist looked at me from between them 
and looked concerned.  "Tell me more."


"I remember changing, Doctor.  I mean, I actually remember the night in Lyon's Pub."  I 
felt a tear run down my fur ...my face... as I cast my conscious mind over the memories 
that couldn't possibly be my own.  "He gave me a memory."  As I sat there, I knew what 
she was was going to say next.  Like so much that had happened to me in the past few 
months, it was inevitable.


"Describe this ... memory."


My private thoughts had always been my own; my beliefs, my one comfort that I didn't 
have to share with anyone.  Talking with the Doctor; sitting in her chair, was like being 
an onion with her sharp, long fingernails peeling back layer after layer of my privacy 
and personal life.  Part of me didn't want to be there, but the other part -the rational 
mind- knew I was still sick, and forced me to stay.


I wanted to get better and escape the delusion, no matter how appealing it may seem.  
(Didn't I?)


The sound from my throat echoed as if from a million miles away.  I could feel my 
muzzle ...lips... move as if on their own, as I fixed my emerald eyes on her hands and 
recited the recollection that the hallucination had granted me...


"I was there, in the bar at my brother's party."  I gulped a dry, shuddering mouthful of 
air as the images flooded back to my mind.  "The changes had been going on, as I told 
you.  The rabbit-woman, she was kicking and writhing across the room from me as ... 
as I sat there."


Dr. Sun-Feldman interrupted.  "But you don't really remember just sitting there now, 
do you?"


My head shook of it's own accord.  "N...n...no...  I ... I was scared and I could ... feel the 
change."


My rational, truthful self railed against my fanciful intuition as the falsified memories 
bubbled and swirled around my consciousness.  I felt it clearly - as if I had really 
experienced it all those weeks ago.  I could remember sitting there, stunned and 
fearful as the changes swept the room.


Part of me felt that I shouldn't have been scared; that it was what I had always wanted.  
That part of me had been screaming to embrace the change.


"I was ... scared."


"Scared?  I thought you told me that you had always wanted to be a wolf."


I nodded slowly.  "I ... I did."


"Then why were you scared?"


"I was afraid."


"Afraid of what?"


The truth gnawed and bit at me as I shook my head in denial.  "A...Afraid of it not being 
real.  Afraid of losing my mind."


"But you knew that the others around you were changing," she pointed out.


Eyes tearing with stinging salt, I looked up and caught her cold, discerning face.  "Not 
... not really; I mean, what if they weren't?  How could I know that I wasn't going 
crazy?"


She pointed at me with her pen.  "Your brother changed; before your eyes."


"But that could have been just a hallucination!  I couldn't know for SURE!  A...and that 
is what ... scared me..."


She sat back in her chair, her pen rolling between her fingers as she considered.  I 
watched the implement's tip rotate slowly from the Doctor to the figurine to the window 
and back again.  The ticking of the clock filled the room and seemed to scratch at my 
scalp with a dentist's tenacity.


"So, what you are saying is, the intuitive, imaginative part of your mind could accept 
everyone becoming something else, but your rational mind feared that it wasn't real.  
Is that correct?"


I could still feel the change as I sat in her office, her question filtering through my 
sharp ears to my brain.  I could recall the slow, gradual pumping of blood filling my 
limbs; my arms, legs and chest stretching, growing more lean with long bands of 
taught, in-shape muscle.  The feeling of soft, luxurious wolf-fur bristling from my flesh, 
pushing against my clothing from the inside as my bones knitted and molded to form 
new shapes and lupine features...


"I ... I think so," I finally answered, pushing the memory further back.  "I mean, you've 
said that I'm a human with a ... a hallucination.  That I'm suffering from some sort of 
lycanthropy."


Dr. Sun-Feldman nodded.  "That you are, and I think this 'surfaced' memory is further 
indication of your fanciful nature trying to embrace the disorder."  Slowly she stood 
and walked around the desk.


For some reason, I couldn't recall having ever seen her legs before; she had always 
remained seated and never walked towards me.  The hairs on the back of my neck 
bristled as she passed in front of the yellow-shrouded window and moved around 
behind me.


"You see," she continued, unseen, "you always lived a life where you denied the 
simple realities of growing up.  You've admitted it yourself.  Through out your teenage 
years you dreamed of living in space...  You felt that you weren't even human; but a 
centaur or satyr incarnate in a human body!  You surrounded yourself with people 
who thought like you, who fed your insecurities rather than forcing you to face them."  
Slowly, the doctor came back into my vision from the other side, the warmth of the 
room heightening the effect of the faint perfume she wore.


"And now," she continued, "your mind clutches and grasps at the fantastic as your 
rational mind insists that you finally grow up and live in the real world..."


Embarrassment and frustrated anger fought beneath my face for control of my 
expression as she finished her walk around me and came to stand behind her desk 
yet again.  I could still remember the change though; the heightening of my senses, 
the lengthening of my ears, the sharpness of my eyes...  I couldn't shut it out!  As I sat 
there and looked at her, I lived it again and again and again.


"You don't understand.  I...it's not about me growing up.  You don't have to abandon 
fantasy to be an adult, Doctor.  I...it's just that..."


"It's just that you feel so comfortable without any real responsibility, that part of you 
would rather live in a delirium, isn't that it?  You don't want to live in the 'practical' 
world at all."  Dr. Sun-Feldman's interruption chilled my embarrassment, allowing 
anger to rise more surely.


"Now wait just a minute," I replied.  I raised a clawed finger to point at her, my eyes 
flickering with an inner light.


"No.  You wait," she said, interrupting again.  Pulling out the drawer from her desk, the 
doctor removed a small, square photograph and tossed it to me.  "Look," she said 
simply.


Anger still clouded my vision, and I fought back the images of my furry arm still poised 
pointing at my therapist.  Sometime during the past minute, I had stood and now 
looked at her from the vantage of my full height.  Calming myself, I sat down slowly 
and turned over the photograph.


It was my brother.


There were other people in the photo, but my eyes were drawn to him most of all.  
There he was, standing next to everyone else in the family, Thanksgiving turkey on the 
table, lefse on a small serving tray, sweet potatoes in a bowl ... it was a scene I had 
witnessed many times before.  But not like this.


My mind rebelled at the picture; it was if I'd seen it already but just couldn't believe my 
eyes.  The calender in the background was clear enough and though this looked like 
any of the numerous Thanksgivings I'd attended as an adult, this had been taken just 
a couple of weeks ago.  And my brother ... was human.


I shook my head slowly; eyes unable to leave the confusing sight.


"You see?"  Dr. Sun-Feldman's voice crept into my reverie.  "It never happened.  It was 
only you all along..."  I shook my head in disbelief as she continued.  "You have to 
face facts and face the truth.  It's the only way..."


The world seemed to spin about me; the implanted memory of my shifting change 
fighting with the cold reason of the photo before me and the succubus voice of my 
therapist behind her desk.  I wanted to believe ... I really did...


But what was it that I wanted?  Madness?  Sanity?  Which was which?


I could remember it even in my confusion; that memory of my flesh filling out; my 
ankles rising as my legs expanded and filled out with thick, strong paws blended with 
feet.  I could still feel the erotic feelings of my groin expanding and swelling to 
gargantuan proportions.  Heavy, full and satisfying for the first time in my life, my 
genitalia were just one of the things that spoke to me of the truth of the transformation 
that I could only see in mirrors.  Which was the real truth?  The photo of a human 
brother or the half-remembered metamorphosis?


Change like that couldn't happen; not to me.  Could it?


The brush of soft fingers caressed my cheek (fur?  flesh?) and I looked up to Elise 
Sun-Feldman standing there.  Her look was solid, practical and concerned, her stance 
a study in clinical precision.  There were no wasted movements as she smiled thinly 
and put her hand on my mine.  "Please...  Remember, I'm here to help you...  It's time 
to grow up."


The faded yellow of the curtain framed her from behind as I looked at the photo in my 
hand.  Was it indicative of my sanity or madness?  Her voice sounded so sincere, but 
her logic; her ideas were so ... cold.


As I sit here now and think back, I don't know where the thought came from, but a part 
of me I hadn't heard from yet seized upon it like a desperate man to a tree during a 
tornado.  My gaze cleared and the debate quieted down inside, waiting for an 
outcome.  The yellow cloth became clear in my vision as I stared past Elise to focus on 
that seemingly insignificant piece of cloth.


My voice cracked as I crumpled the corner of the photo and looked into my therapist's 
face.  "What's there..."  My arm, neither and both that of a wolf and human, pointed 
past her at the single, out-of-place covering.  Why did it call to me?  And why was part 
of me scared of it?


The Doctor cleared her throat and shook her head.  "That's the outside, my friend.  
You know that."


"Wh...why is it covered?"


"You wanted it to be.  Don't you remember?"


I shook my head.  "W...which part of me wanted that?"


Dr. Sun-Feldman's face looked confused as I spoke aloud what I had intended only to 
think.  "What do you mean?"


Slowly, ignoring her question, I stood and looked at that simple, faded piece of cloth.  
"What's really on the other side...?"  My murmured ramblings must have sounded 
insane as I stepped around her and approached the wall.  My hand reached forward...


"Stop!"


The clear, sharp tone of her voice caught my mind like a vice.  Clarity fought to take 
control as I turned to face Dr. Sun-Feldman.  "If you question your own sanity, then 
you need help..."  Her pleading, rational face beckoned to my rational mind; my 
intuition trying to interfere.  "That curtain may symbolize something to you in this 
moment, but all it is, is a cover ... a shield against the outside.  You couldn't face it 
when you first came here; you couldn't face the fact that you were different."


The intuitive voice inside me found my larynx.  "I ... I'm different?"


The Doctor sighed.  "Your psychosis makes you different.  Your inability to accept the 
hard and rational world around you."  She stepped closer to me, putting her hands on 
my shoulders with strong, clutching fingers.  "You need to go past the trappings of 
childhood...  Your future isn't in magick and fantasy!  That's why you came here.  If you 
now question whether or not you are human or wolf, that's only a sign that you are 
getting worse!  Originally, you thought everyone had changed; we had made such 
progress..."


I looked over my shoulder at the simple, faded swath of cloth.  "I was afraid of 'out 
there', wasn't I...?"


She nodded, slowly pulling me back towards the chair.  "You were..."


How could I explain the decision?  Only a moment passed, but the weeks of therapy, 
the fears and trepidations, the kind and cruel words; all of them washed through my 
mind.  I could feel him, the wolf -my intuition- standing beside my reason -my doctor- 
waiting for the verdict to be read.


My voice whispered from the depths of my throat, deep yet soft.  "You make a case I've 
heard before, Doctor.  But it's nothing more than the logic of the lifeless mundane.  I'm 
sorry..."


I turned and reached towards the soft, smooth cloth, hanging so innocently on the 
wall.  It's faded, tattered contours seemed strangely out of place in the close, warm 
office.  Nervously, I clenched my fingers and pulled.


The wolf was waiting.


A clear, perfect mirror stared back at me from the wall as the curtain fell away.  The 
office and my doctor were gone.  The small abandoned room where I had come to 
hide after escaping the Institute huddled around me like a welcome embrace.  I looked 
at myself; for the first time, coming to the full realization that my sanity and fantasy 
were one and the same.


The wolf in the mirror was tall and handsome; a sculpted physique -a bit shabby from 
weeks on the run and in hiding- but perfect none-the-less.  His chest rose and fell with 
each breath I took; his lungs filling with warm, living air.  His eyes sparkled with a 
deep, rich emerald while his hands stroked his face in welcome greeting.  I smiled and 
watched as a slow grin crept up alongside the curious muzzle of my mirror 
companion.


His nude body was something of a thrill as well as an embarrassment to me as I 
recalled just how large the metamorphosis had made my sexual organs.  My tail, full 
and bushy swished behind me as tears ran down the wolf's cheeks and wetted his 
beautiful, silver-grey fur.


Today, in the changed world that started that October night at Lyon's Pub, I don't really 
pretend to know what my hallucinations were about.  Maybe it was that I couldn't really 
accept what was really happening to me.  Maybe I finally made my choice about what 
kind of world I wanted to live in.  Maybe I'm still insane.  I don't know what it all meant, 
even today.  But as I look at the horse standing with a human family in the photo I'd 
received the day before my escape from the Institute, I think I know what sanity is.


And I know that *I am the wolf...