Sean King

Emily J

English

The sun beat down on his scales as he raced across the dunes. Whatever he did, he couldn’t stop. 
“There!” A voice shouted. Darn. No point in trying to hide now. Shutting his eyes, he lets out a breath, feeling his clawed feet turn to paws. When his eyes open, he’s…

a big fluffy mop dog with a giant wagging tongue. He’d be absolutely adorable if he weren’t the size of a container ship. He can change form but has to retain the same mass.

He trotted toward us, feet the size of above-ground pools, tail swatting entire buildings into abstract art. “Down, boy!” I shouted. With a shimmer, he morphed into a three-story squirrel. Still mop-like. Still too massive for this dimension—and hungry.

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