The Transformation

The front door slammed. Bernard looked up from his newspaper, his caterpillaresque eyebrows raised in question. He wasn’t expecting anyone, especially at this time of night.

The lamp over his shoulder cast strange shadows across the living room. He strained to see who had entered his home, but there was neither movement nor sound from the foyer. Strange.

Bernard folded the paper and set it on the end table, pausing to ensure that the edges of paper aligned with the edge of the table.

“Who’s there?” he called. “You may as well come in.”

Still nothing.

The grandfather clock in the corner began its sonorous gonging to announce the end of today and the beginning of tomorrow. As the twelfth strike reverberated through the house and silence began again to descend, he heard skittering down the hall.

“What in blazes,” he muttered as he unfolded from his seat and advanced upon the passage. He was tempted to bellow, “AHA,” as he rounded the corner, but restrained himself.  After all, he was unaccustomed to raising his voice. Probably because there was typically no reason to raise it and no one with whom to raise it to since Adele had left him 36 years ago. She wanted kids but he didn’t. Truth be told, it was a decision he’d come to regret in his twilight years.

The tail of a shadow slipped into the kitchen as he watched.

Grabbing the yardstick that had hung on his hallway wall since his retirement from Green Valley High. Holding it out in front of him like a jousting lance, he entered the kitchen.

The shadow he had seen had coalesced into a six-foot-tall rabbit holding a carrot, poached, he could only assume, from his very own fridge.

“Freeze,” Bernard shouted. If ever there was a time to raise one’s voice, it was when a strange, oversized rabbit made an appearance in one’s home.

The rabbit, eyes wide, dropped the carrot and began running in a mad pattern back and forth across the kitchen floor before finally dropping to the floor and rolling beneath the table. And there he stayed, unmoving, eyes open yet vacant.

“Heart attack,” thought Bernard. He had scared the intruder to death. “Oh my,” was all he could summon in response. Should he call the police? What a strange situation.

It was then that Bernard saw a large basket filled with colorful eggs and candies, perched on the counter near where he had first spotted the rabbit.

Absentmindedly he picked up the carrot and began nibbling on it. He wrinkled his nose as he puzzled through the evidence. He tapped his leg as the mist of confusion began to clear. He knew what he needed to do.

Bernard could practically feel his whiskers growing as he lifted the basket and made for the door. He had a lot of ground to cover before morning.