Prompt: Use the words jar, sand, and patch.
They made me into a monster, she thought. Immediately, she corrected herself. No, I did that to
myself.
The transformation was not quite complete. A look downward offered a glimmer of hope as she
saw a patch of skin – human skin – still existed on her forearm.
She slapped her hand onto the device beside the door, and her horrific reflection was jarred away.
Beyond, she saw a narrow path through the world outside. At one point, it may have been more
enclosed – a solid wall existed to the right, but the left side was more open. Wide, empty slots
lay where windows might have been. As she stepped forward, her eyes looked over the expanse
of orange sand.
For a long moment, she stopped and stared into the distance. Seeing it for the first time with an
open mind caused her to realize that it had a special kind of beauty to it. Wisps of dust danced
on the wind and swirled across the scene. She placed her hands atop the sill and saw light glisten
from her scaly claws.
I need to find help, she thought. I can’t go home like this.
She wanted to be angry – she wanted to blame the aliens for changing her and stealing her away
to another world. In that moment, however, she began to understand their side of things. What
they did was in the name of peace – if they had come through her wall and marched into public,
the fear and violence to follow might have been catastrophic.
I never even apologized.
She turned her attention down the walkway. Filled with a new sense of purpose, she began to
run quickly through the slats of light with a thick tail trailing behind her.