"Down the River" by Virmir kendo.virmir at gmail dot com http://virmir.com
 I called them "jackals" because, frankly, that's what they looked like. They had thin heads with sharp muzzles and pointed ears. Standing on two legs like that they reminded me of those Egyptian hieroglyphs, though they of course lived nowhere near the desert. Their slender bodies were covered entirely with a rich beige or yellowish fur. Though their hands were clawed, they were roughly human shaped and quite capable of grasping with their thumbs. Their feet were digitigrade though, and they had thin yet lush tails. 
In that short day I had spent with them I quickly grew to love and admire these people. Envy even. Their lives were so simple, yet filled to the brim with enthusiasm and charm. For a tribal race living in a dense rainforest, their intelligence was amazing and I was surprised by how much they knew about modern culture. Many even spoke English.
 As much as I was glad to meet them, I didn't come for the jackals. They were yesterday's news. Everyone knew about them already, along with the handful of other human variants scattered across the globe. I took a few pictures anyway. I would treasure these rather than sell them.
 No, what I really came for was this new "snake monster" that had been spotted in the river. I was only going by vague third- or fourth-hand descriptions and a grainy out-of-focus photo, but if I was right and there really was a new species out here, I could make a pretty good haul selling the first confirmed photos of it. It was kind of funny. Twenty years ago this would have been a ridiculous wild goose chase in the same category as the Loch Ness Monster. But with the explosion of new species being uncovered across the globe in the past two decades, the jackals included, it was a fairly reasonable gamble. Granted, all of the new discoveries drove the prices for those magical first pictures down, but it would still be well worth the trip.
 The description of these new snakes was just as outlandish as the others. However, I took it seriously, for many other rumors came out to be proven fact in similar cases. The length of the snake varied by account. Some said it was seven feet long while others claimed up to twenty. Most agreed it was green, with a diamond pattern on its back. But then there was the head, which surprisingly (and most unsettlingly) varied little from account to account. Rather than a normal snake's head, this thing wore one that resembled a human, though it was bald and green scaled. Black sunken eyes and fanged teeth. Instead of attaching to its neck from the back of the skull so that the head pointed downward, the skull was supposedly attached as if it were on a human neck, so that the creature must always arch its body upward like a cobra just to see forward. This was how it swam. A freaky picture indeed. I had no intentions to get close, as my professional grade camera had 50x optical zoom.
 I had convinced the jackals to take me out on the river. No one was willing to do so at first, in fear of these snakes, but I offered a trade of most of the camping supplies I brought along, including a smaller camera. I finally found a taker who was enthusiastic about the goods from the outside world. Three of them in fact: a family. The father was about my height, though much skinnier. The mother was smaller and more delicate, and her ears drooped slightly. And then there was the kid, who I would have guessed to be ten or twelve or so, though I wasn't sure how the jackals aged. 
I was fond of the kid from the start. He was about half my height and had a tuft of yellow fur that hung over his eyes like a child who had successfully gotten out of several haircuts in a row. Of course the jackals didn't worry about such silly things as modifying their appearances. Though they were members of a tribal race, their clothing was a bit more advanced than simple loincloths as one might expect. They had rather extravagant costumes for ceremonial purposes. But their day-to-day wear consisted of crudely stitched together brown leggings resembling shorts, which father and son both wore variations of. Like most of the males, they went bare-chested. Understandable, since excess clothing thrown on their furred bodies would likely be uncomfortable in this humidity. The mother was decent though with a course gray cloth covering her.
 So we went out into the river on the long canoe. The thing was so long that it took all three of them to navigate while I sat and dumbly watched, weighed down by my backpack and swatting flies, snapping the occasional picture of them or something off the banks that caught my attention. The father stood in front with a long pole, prodding it into the water and directing the boat. The mother stayed in back providing most of the propulsion with the oar. The kid was with me in the center, sitting just in front of me with an oar of his own, providing additional propulsion and occasionally helping his father steer. 
Thankfully both the father and son spoke English, though they asked me more questions that I did them, especially the kid. I found myself explaining to him what I did for a living, the camera, and several more or less interesting aspects of my daily life. He posed and smiled a canine grin as I snapped his photo.
 Eventually the river widened so much that I would have mistaken it for a lake, the current ebbing to a slow, peaceful flow. The father bade us to quiet our voices as we approached the target area. The three of them had apparently seen this odd snake in these waters before. We progressed on, a small island manifesting in the widened river ahead. It was perhaps a good twenty feet long and quite narrow, hosting a copse of trees and large leafy ferns that hung over the water. My eyes caught some movement on the far end of the island, but I was too slow with the camera. We drifted on some more as I scanned the shorelines through my viewfinder.
 Suddenly, all three began shouting some unintelligible words in their native tongue, pointing to the right front of the boat, away from the island I was intent on. I looked up, seeing what looked like a long slender tendril with a ball on its tip protruding from the waters. I angled my camera and zoomed in quickly, firing off several shots. Perfect! It was only after I took the pictures that I realized what exactly I was looking at... 
Through the magnified viewfinder I stared into the thing's horrible black eyes. Its head looked like a human skull, wrapped tightly in green scales. Where the nose should have been there was but a hole. Fangs and a forked tongue protruded from its gaping maw. Continuing down the neck was merely a serpentine body, the scaled hide disappearing under the murky waters. It was the freakiest thing I had ever seen in my life.
 And it was heading right for us!
 Paddles dipped into the water as we began to edge in the opposite direction. Slowly... We weren't moving away quickly enough, but the father angled his pole in the direction of the beast as it swam closer. The pole was plenty long enough to prod the thing away before it could even get close. We were fine.
 Then a green tendril shot out of the water from the opposite side, slamming right between me and the kid. It wrapped around the wooden canoe, flipping it clean over. We were all dumped into the brown soupy water.
 Arms flailing about, I sank and sank, muffled shrieks softening around me. I finally found the sense to let go of the camera and slip out of my backpack. The heavy sack fell to the depths as I rose towards the light. Suddenly there was a flash of green to my left and I held my arms about my face. It felt like someone took a baseball bat and hit my left forearm. I finally broke to the surface, just catching a glimpse of the crimson streaks in the water as I took a precious breath. I had been bitten!
 I was underwater again before I knew it. This time I saw a blob of yellow before me, slowly sinking as it too flailed its arms weakly. It was the jackal kid. With my right arm, I reached out and grabbed him by the back of the neck. His skin was loose, like a puppy grabbed by the same spot, so my grip was secure enough to pull him closer and upward. We both broke the surface. By now the terror had subsided enough for me to think. I wrapped his arm around my back and began kicking for the shoreline.
 Endless minutes later I made it to the muddy edge of the river, throwing the jackal kid down on his back. My left arm throbbed, by my focus was on the child. Thankfully he was breathing, the water spurting from the corners of his muzzle. Good thing, as I didn't have a clue how to perform CPR on a creature with a mouth like his. I sat down in the dirt and clutched my left forearm. The pain was worsening. An itching, burning sensation... I rubbed the skin around the festering wound, and the skin peeled clean off. Underneath were what looked like bright green scales... the same scales as that freakish snake.
 In horror I screamed, throwing myself backwards and landing in some tall grasses. By now the jackal kid had propped himself up and panted heavily from his exertion, wearily looking upon me as I lay on my back and wailed. The pain intensified by an order of magnitude as it progressed down into my hand, which began twitching violently, and up my shoulder. More of the skin came off in flakes; more of the scales appeared.
 The jackal child scurried up to me with a hanging mouth and terror in his eyes. He watched dumbfounded as the scales progressed towards my shoulder and I flailed about, tearing my own skin away with my right hand. Suddenly he took the folds of my shirt within his claws and looked me in the eye, hesitation pursed on his tongue...
 "I... I can stop it... but it will hurt... and..."
 "H-help me!" I gasped. "Oh god, the pain! Anything! Anything! Just help me!"
 "Are-are you sure?"
 "YES!!"
 He pulled back slightly, hesitation and fear painted across his face. His visage blurred as I winced. The pain now stabbing into my collar bone. I clutched the flesh there, digging my nails into it as I gritted my teeth.
 Suddenly the jackal boy curled his lips, displaying an impressive set of canine fangs. He lunged forward, sinking his teeth into my exposed right shoulder. He bit me! I struggled to throw him off, but was far too weak. He clamped his teeth there for several long seconds as I screamed before finally letting go. The jackal boy then looked at my face with those fearful eyes once more, except his muzzle was now drenched in my blood. 
He proceeded to tear my shirt off and press the cloth against the wound he had caused, which was bleeding profusely. I barely noticed this, however, as a new and even more agonizing pain rippled through the entirety of my body. It started at the wound site but then traveled down my chest to my heart. Each beat sent a wave of heat and searing pain through my veins. The new pain met the one spreading up my left arm and the two seemed to push against each other. My world became agony. My body spasmed. My face hurt the worst, as the bones cracked and it felt as if my skull was being split open. Thankfully, I blacked out.
 The birds brought me out of my slumber. The complex ensemble of chirping rang clearly through my ears as a blissful melody. Then came the scents of the forest. The flowers, trees and animals. The scent of blood -- my own. Then there was my little savior.
 My eyes blearily blinked open. My entire body ached, yet it was nothing compared to the experience I had just been through. Angling my head downward I could see the muzzle of the little jackal to my right, pointing skyward. He was resting the back of his head against my chest and had fallen asleep. My right arm was pinned under his body. My eyes turned to my left.
 I brought the scaled arm up to my face. It felt numb, the cool green scales much less sensitive to touch. The hand was smaller and deformed slightly, though I could still flex my fingers. I followed the scales up my arm to my shoulder, and past... But here they stopped in tendril patterns, reaching for my heart, though they never made it. My own human skin was not what blocked the scales, but rather it was the tawny fur of the jackals. In fascination I scanned my bare chest, finding it covered with thick jackal fur. 
I wedged my right arm out from underneath the sleeping child, causing him to stir slightly, and held it out next to my left. By stark contrast, my right arm was that of a jackal, slightly thinner than it used to be and covered with that same yellow-brown fur. My fingers on that right hand were adorned with thin black claws. The black pads on the bottom of my hand were just as sensitive as when the hand was human. Then both of my strange new hands were used to feel the pointed muzzle protruding from my face, the fanged teeth, the pointed ears.
 It all came together, of course. I had been becoming one of those snake things from the bite on my arm. I shuddered at the thought. That ghoulish head upon a snake's body... But the jackal's bite prevented the rest of my body from changing, instead making me a jackal, probably because he'd hit a main vein and that change spread faster. I was hugely relieved. This form was far more preferable.
 By now the jackal child had woken up and had given me my space as I wordlessly prodded my new body. He sat on a rock by the river, staring out into the depths, wringing his tail in his hands. 
I went to join him, stumbling out of my old shoes that no longer fit. Walking on my toes felt odd, but it was impossible for me to bring my heels to touch the ground. My entire body was thinner. My pants would have fallen clean off if my new tail wasn't uncomfortably bunched up inside them. I eventually made it to the riverside but was distracted by my reflection. I studied that unfamiliar face for a long while. The only semblance of my former self was a few strands of fur that hung in my eyes, vaguely alluding to my former haircut. My life as a human was over. I would have to give it all up. There was just no way I could go back like this. My mind weighed heavily over my life.
 Until I looked up at the jackal child to my left. He just sat there, staring blankly across the water. The fur below his eyes was parted as tears rolled down the tracks in streams. My god. His parents... He lost both of them. No, they might not be dead; what if they became those freakish snake things? A fate worse than death! And then it hit me: it was all my fault. I was the one that had lured them out there, for nothing more than money. All of my personal troubles melted away to insignificance at the sheer weight of my guilt. I, a foreigner, had come out of nowhere and personally destroyed this kid's life.
 I reached out with the scaled hand and touched his shoulder, expecting him to tear away in rage. Why did he even bother saving me? Instead he turned and stared into my eyes. Those big innocent eyes bored into my soul. Then without warning, he threw himself into my chest and embraced me, burying his muzzle under my chin and sobbing bitterly. I was stunned. I didn't know what to do. So I just hugged him back.
 We remained that way for several moments, and his sobbing slowly died down. That's when I decided I was going to make it up to him. Nothing else mattered. I was going to take care of him.
 After a long while he pulled away. He grabbed my right hand tightly and pulled me along, heading towards an overgrown pathway in the thick of the forest. I stumbled along, tripping over my new feet.
 "Where are we going?" I ventured, trying to sound out the words correctly with my elongated mouth.
 "Home."
 ----
They were floored. All of the children sat there wide-eyed. The girls' ears were flat against their heads, terrified at the descriptions of the fearsome snakes and the thought of becoming one. The boys' ears were pointed forward, their muzzles handing open in rapt fascination. The old shaman ended with a flourish and a bow, extending his green scaled left arm fully out of hiding from under his cloak so that all could see. An ensemble of tiny gasps sounded among the small group.
 "And that, my friends, is why my left arm is green."
 A smile wedged out from the corner of the shaman's graying muzzle.
 "Any questions?"
 And of course there were plenty, ranging from a more detailed description of this "cam-ra" or what exactly the mystical shaman did so many years ago when he was a "hew-man." The old shaman answered each with a practiced ease. He glanced up past the village to the river ahead during his explanations. Really he should perform the ritual and bless the bridge before construction began, as was the reason he came. But that could wait a little while. After all, the children were most important.
 Then of course the questions turned to the inevitable.
 "Okay, but why do you have horns?"
 "And feathers sticking out of your neck?"
 "Why is your tail so big and red?"
 Oh dear. The shaman ran his right furred hand over the horn protruding just behind his pointed ear, recalling his other bumbling encounters with the were-creatures of the forest. Hmm, it was going to be a long night indeed.
 END