Isaac paced, letting his feet wander about the kitchen as they would while his mind worked on more important matters. Saying he was nervous would have been an understatement. He’d just broken the law. Normally the notion would never have crossed his mind, and he was far too skittish a person to let someone convince him of any drastic action easily. Isaac was well aware of the consequences of theft, and as he paced several scenarios played out in his head, each ending with him rotting in a cell for the rest of his life or sitting an electric chair as an apathetic jailer flipped the switch.

Then again, an interesting opportunity had come up. It wasn’t merely for the money. He wasn’t that shallow. In fact he could have lived quite happily comfortably never having to steal anything, but he would have had to do it somewhere else. Isaac owed too much money on his home to pay it off himself, and he was slowly sinking into debt. He could have sold the house to pay off most of it, and then he would have been fine, but it was the principle of the thing. The ancient home had been his – his family’s – for as long as he could remember, and giving it would be like giving up a piece of his soul.

So he had been desperate for money. Any way he could get it. He’d known to stay away from the loan sharks, he wasn’t stupid, but in his haste to find something that could help, he’d been pressed into illegal action. It had been easier than he’d supposed to find someone willing to pay off the house, as long as he did them a little favor first. Isaac had graciously accepted, knowing that it might very well be the last chance he had.

The target had been … unusual, but who was he to argue with the criminal mastermind. It was easy enough to steal, even as the amateur he was. The city museum had recently come into possession of a priceless artifact: an ancient mask of war that served as one of the last remnants of some dead civilization. It had been on a temporary exhibit at the museum for about a week, and he’d simply gone one day, waited until he was the only one there and had broken the glass. There was no alarm, no security, or anything. The glass wasn’t even very thick. He’d just picked it up, tucked it under his jacket, and walked out. The security guard even smiled and waved goodbye.

Now – now that the actual hard part was over – Isaac was having second thoughts. As he expected, his conscience was suffering greatly from the experience. After all, what he’d done was wrong, but he didn’t feel like there was any chance he’d get caught. Instead, his mind was giving life to the mask. It stared at him from the kitchen counter, empty eye slits following him around the room.

The thing was utterly ugly. It was beyond him why anyone would want the thing. It was modeled so that it might look like a jackal or a hyena or some such predator. The surface looked to have been stitched together with whatever animal’s fur had been at hand, and where the mask tapered down to form the muzzle of the creature, there were actual animal’s teeth fused to its frame. Added to that, the thing was apparently cursed.

Oh, as much as he’d liked to have not known that little fact, it was hard not to have learned the thing’s entire history while he was waiting for everyone to clear out. One of the museum’s many archaic enthusiasts had noticed him lingering, and he had to at least pretend to be interested at the risk of appearing awkward. Apparently the mask was the property of some ancient king. Sort of a good luck charm going into battle. Believing that mask had some otherworldly power, a rival had stolen it and tried to usurp the king from his throne. He’d succeeded, but the king cursed the mask with his last dying breath. The more the new king wore the mask the more bloodthirsty and savage he became, eventually even loosing his grip on his humanity. His subjects had killed him, claiming he’d been possessed by some sort of demon.

It was a ridiculous legend, of course. The thing was hideous, but there was no way it was actually cursed. Still, it was odd the way the thing’s hollow gaze seemed to follow Isaac around the room. He stopped pacing and eyed the mask wearily. It couldn’t be cursed could it? The mask looked back at him placidly. It looked completely contemptible, sitting there as if it were accusing him of being scared of it. What’s wrong? Lost your nerve?

He walked over to it and picked it up, turning it so that he could see through the eyes. The curse was an absurd notion. There was no curse. You couldn’t give supernatural abilities to a mundane piece of wood, no matter how many animal hides you stretched over it and no matter how much blood you spilled over its possession. Ah, but you’re still scared aren’t you?

Was he really scared of a piece of wood? You are aren’t you? You can’t handle a simple little inanimate object because you’re too frightened of what some stranger told you. You know what? He’s laughing at you right now. He’s got you scared, and he knows it. Prove him wrong. Put on the mask.

He stopped and stared at the thing. He’d really been about to put it on. What was wrong with him? He should just put the thing down and go back. Wait for his ride and leave the thing out where he could watch it. But then you’d never prove anything. It’d haunt you, and you’d never know for sure. Just put it on. What harm can there be?

He tried to shake off the eerie feeling from the mask and he put it on. The thing smelled just as bad as it looked, full of death and decay that came with the territory of an artifact. He laughed to himself. See? No curse. No psychosis. No sickening transformations. He was himself, and the mask was just an old piece of junk. A priceless old piece of junk that was going to let him keep his family’s home, but a harmless old artifact nonetheless.

Isaac paraded about the house with the mask on, flaunting his victory over his own fear. He stepped up to the mirror, wondering what he looked like in the mask. Just as he suspected, he looked ridiculous. It looked as if he had some dead thing attached to his head, and his own appearance did nothing to improve how ugly the thing was. In a mocking gesture, he struck a pose in front of the mirror, extending his hands like claws and dropping his jaw as if to roar. Oh, that’s cute. This'll be fun.

For a moment, time seemed to stand still. As he stared into the mirror, the fur on the mask seemed to change, becoming more of a solid color. The teeth lengthened, becoming vicious fangs, complete with living gums. The skin around them stretched into jowls, hanging over the teeth in a vicious snarl. What’s worse, he could see his own body changing. His lower jaw formed to match the mask’s mouth still stretched wide in the mock roar. His eyes yellowed and became a part of the face. His hands turned into real claws, hooked and wicked. His shirt stretched into a speckled fur pattern, and soon what was standing before him in the mirror couldn’t be recognized as ever being human.

Isaac lurched away from the mirror, letting the mask clatter to the floor. He gazed at his reflection, and after a moment of study to make sure he was completely normal, breathed a heavy sigh of relief. He was letting his imagination get the better of him. That’s right. There’s no such thing as curses.

He stood there for a moment, letting his heart slow back to normal, and then he remembered the mask. He quickly picked it up, looking at it carefully to make sure there was no damage.
After all, this was a priceless artifact, and any damage might be looked down upon. Thankfully, it was as sterling as it had ever been, and the fall didn’t seem to cause any more damage.

He returned the mask to its spot on the counter and returned to pacing, more on the edge of his nerve than ever. His imagination ran away with the idea, making him feel as if his body was changing every time he couldn’t see it. He kept raising a hand to his face to make sure nothing was different. He even passed by the mirror once as he paced, picturing the creature there out of the corner of his eye, but turning to find only his own, familiar reflection. After that instance, he resolved to stay as far away from the mirror as he could for fear his imagination would get the best of him again.

It was another hour before a car pulled into his driveway, headlights flashing through the glass front door. He’d arranged for one of his friends to transport him where he needed to be. His car had broken down weeks ago, and besides, he was in no condition to be driving, especially out this late. Still, he had a delivery to make, and on time was a priority. He was at the door before the driver had made it out of his car. Turning to see Isaac, his friend greeted him gruffly.

“You look like hell,” he didn’t smile as he spoke. Carter wasn’t exactly the most fun-loving guy around, but he would at least give a friend a ride in the middle of the night on short notice.

“Rough night,” Isaac stepped forward and shook Carter’s hand. He was sweating despite the cold night air, and he still didn’t have his imagination in order. The reflection of himself he saw in the car’s window was already animalistic. His face was rougher, sharper, and he looked hunched over slightly, like a bear standing upright. He made an unconscious effort to straighten his posture, still trying to tell himself that there was no such thing as a curse, “You don’t mind leaving right now do you? I’ve got a big client for my art, and I need to make the delivery tonight.”

“Ugh, that ugly thing?” Carter eyed the mask, “I thought you were into a little more traditional sculpture.”

“The client calls the shots,” Isaac forced a nervous laugh, “He wanted hideous, and he got hideous.”

Carter nodded and got into the car, popping open the door lock on the passenger side. Isaac got in and set the mask down on the dashboard where it gazed back at him with an empty-eyed stare. I heard that you know. Carter gave the thing one last look and then started the car, finally getting the trip underway.

As the trip progressed, Isaac began to get increasingly uneasy. He’d planned to be asleep for most of the drive, but instead he was annoyingly alert. He was painfully aware of the engine’s running pattern, interrupted at regular intervals by the low squeak of an axle spinning. More recently, he had become aware of another, little tap-tap pattern that he couldn’t identify.

Eventually, he just put his head in his hands, trying to focus on something else. That effort however, proved futile. He could still hear everything, and he was beginning to get a sick feeling in his stomach. His head pounded now, and he let out a slight groan, leaning against the window.

“Hey Isaac? You alright?” Carter sounded worried. It made sense of course, Isaac was still sweating, and he was sure he must’ve looked awful. He tried to muster a response, but all he could manage was another groan, “You look like hell. I’m pulling over, okay?”

There was a nauseating slide forward as Carter jammed down the car’s breaks, pulling off to the side of the highway. He killed the engine and opened got out of the car, running around to the passenger side to see if he could help Isaac. He opened the door and helped Isaac out onto the pavement, where he proceeded to wretch uncontrollably.

He finally stopped, looking up at Carter’s worried face through bloodshot eyes. With the engine’s whir gone, Isaac finally put a finger on the strange rhythm that had eluded him earlier. He stared fixedly at Carter’s jugular, watching the muscle in the neck twitch slightly with each tap-tap of his heartbeat.

Isaac felt an alien pull to the spot, as he gazed intently. Something foreign, something completely disgusting, but something much stronger than he was at that moment. He lunged at Carter and caught him off guard, sinking his teeth deep into the muscle at the neck. Carter tore away with a confused cry, but Isaac persisted.

There was a brief struggle, but Isaac got in another good shot at Carter’s neck before he was prepared, and the man sank down without much resistance. Isaac drank deeply from the wound, reveling in the blood like some sort of drunkard, and tearing at his friend’s flesh like a crazed and starved animal. Slowly, the headache abated, his stomach stopped aching, and Isaac returned to his right state of mind.

He stood up suddenly, realizing what he’d done. He felt another wave of nausea come over him. He’d just gutted one of his friends! Why? To satisfy some strange and disgusting desire for blood. The prospect was nightmarish, but he couldn’t deny what he’d just done. And doesn’t it feel good? You overpowered him. You beat him. You’re stronger, more fit. It’s only right that you take the spoils of his flesh!

A car drove by, headlights briefly illuminating Carter’s car and the two figures next to it. For a moment, the car looked as if it was about to stop, but then it sped off, looking to be in a hurry. As it flashed by, Isaac caught a glimpse of a frightened face in the window. They weren’t stopping anywhere near him. He scared them.

He stepped slowly back to the car, looking at his reflection in the window once more. He was definitely different. He stood with his back arched forward in a predatory stance. His hands were tipped with the shallow beginnings of claws that arced out through the shattered remains of fingernail. His face protruded slightly into the beginnings of a muzzle. He grinned at the reflection, showing a set of sharp fangs. The transformations certainly came together in quite a gruesome image, but it was also a powerful one. Isaac stood and flexed new muscle, feeling the strength in each limb. He laughed out loud into the night, letting the sound distort itself into a long, low howl of pleasure. That’s my boy. First your mind. Then your body. Then your soul.