The universe was full of surprises. Surprises were a natural order to life. Life was a mystery hidden in the shadows. Shadows hid secrets. Secrets held wonder. Wonder helped the mind grow. The mind gains knowledge as it grows and becomes wise with wisdom. Wisdom provided insight. Insight gave way to new perspectives one could not see before.

In conclusion to all of this?

Stanford Filbrick Pines, man of 12 P.H.d's, past universal traveler, man of science and studies of the unknown, recorder of the strange, reader of knowledge, king of codes, quick of wit and plan, solver of life's great mysteries, and explorer of places which no man would dare go…

… Had no clue of what to do with his present situation.

Something only one man in the world, nay, the whole UNIVERSE capable enough to do such a task.

The only problem was that 'man' happened to be his brother, who was his twin, who happened to be knocked out by the drug his slipped into one of his favorite soft drinks, who also happened to be not a man at the moment but a thing.

Well, not exactly a 'thing', but he had no other name for the form Stan was now in. Names of what to give this new form were always on the tip of his tongue, in the very top of his brain, but not a single one seemed right or fit with Stan's transformation.

Not that he could call this a transformation.

More like a pain inflicted curse that took hold every new moon night on his brother. A curse that Stan had no clear memory of how or why he had such a curse on him in the first place.

Ford sighed, shifting slightly so that he was more comfortable with Stan's new head still resting on his upper legs. His breathing was deep and slow, a good sign that gave Ford some ease. It was always a worry when he had to resort to drugging Stan. Ketamine was fast at doing its job, but he only made sure to put in enough that wouldn't do any harmful lasting damage to his brother in doing so. Making him sleep when the curse would take hold was a… more easy going on Stan. But resorting to that was, (thankfully), rare.

Stan's 'curse' was an odd one. One that was certainly new to Ford when he came to light about the situation his brother was in. And one that seemed to always evade his searching for clues of breaking it. It grew frustrating and irritating the more time passed by, with Ford always coming up empty handed and not one step closer to figuring this curse out.

The main thing about Stan's curse was that it took hold every new moon night when the last rays of sunlight vanished. After that, that was when Stan was transformed into this new form till the sun rose the next day.

It was luck for them that the curse didn't happen every night and only just on the one, but from what Ford could tell, it was anything but peaceful.

Yes, this was Stanley, his twin brother, but on some nights of the new moon, Stan acted… different. Less of himself and more like the hostile creatures they had to fight off now and again. If tonight happened to be one of those nights…

Ford shivered.

It was hard to defend himself when he knew the creature he was fighting off was his own brother. He was lucky most of those nights when he walked away with only a few minor scratches. He was lucky his skill beyond the portal were still in good use, but for how long would it last with his aging body?

He really didn't want to find out.

Reaching into his breast pocket, he pulled out a small tape recorder, clearing his throat a bit before switching it on. "Status report. Year ten. April. Tonight is yet another new moon, and, as expected, Stan's curse has actuated. Time record has stayed in the same time frame of under three minutes. Unfortunately, the resort of using drugs had to be used. Memory may have lapsed again judging how he had acted today with follow up support from the drugs he slipped into my portion of dinner. It's forgivably understandable since this action has happened plenty times in the past, and with the recurring memory loss after the new moon passes, it's safe to assume not all memories had returned tonight."

"Full note, the drug will soon wear off thanks to the enhancement in the immune syst—" Ford leaped back in surprise as Stan suddenly, and quickly, jolted up. New legs jolted and slipped out from under him, ending in tangled mess on the floor, struggled to find some leverage to stand up properly. The motion was rocking the boat quite a bit enough that Ford was worried it would tip over.

Luckily, Stan managed to find his bearings with his new limbs, steadying himself as the boat slowly stilled. There was an awkward silence the hung between them, one who had no idea if it was alright to say anything at this point, and the other gaining his bearings. Stan's head suddenly snapped towards Ford's direction, freezing the scientist in place.

He had seen those eyes plenty of times over the years, yet they were always startling to see. Stan's whole head had reshaped and formed into a skull of an animal, most notably in equine shape and stature but the teeth were replaced with more sharp pointed canine molars that lined the whole mouth to the back of the jawline. The eye sockets were notably spaced out more than a regular horse skull, shifted to look forward with some sideline view.

The eye sockets in particular were filled with inky blackness that no light could pierce through. And Ford had tried nearly all possibilities of lights from this and other dimensions.

None had worked.

But what really worried Ford was the absence of glowing bronze orbs that were supposed to be in each socket. Not deep, dark abysses that were gouging deep into his soul. It was hard to determine if Stan was in control of himself each new moon night, and every night Ford had to make sure that Stan had some control of his new body or else things would get bad for both of them.

Thankfully, it didn't seem to be the case tonight as the orbs blinked into existence, relieving Ford some of his worry. However, his relief didn't last too long as a bone snout was suddenly pressed against his own nose, along with a deep rumbling angry growl as the orbs turned a light reddish color.

"Hey! Don't start giving me that Stanley! I did it for your own good!" Ford huffed, pushing Stan off him as he got up off the ground. "Honestly Stanley, I wouldn't have resorted to using the drug if you hadn't tried to drug me first."

A series of clacking jitters mixed with low powerful growls emanated as Stan glared back at Ford, giving a small hiss as he sat on his haunches in what little room the deck gave him.

"Stanley." Ford gave a huff as Stan turned his head away, showing the full view backside of his head. He didn't know which was more difficult to handle. Stan in his normal form or in his cursed form. They were both arguably stubborn and hardheaded to deal with, though the cursed side of Stan was a little more aggressive than his normal side.

It was better to get things out of the way before anything got out of hand at this point. "Look, I'm sorry for pulling a stunt on you like that." Stan's head tilted slightly, looking at him from a corner angle. "But what else was I supposed to do in such a situation like that? It was clear you didn't fully remember that—"

Stan twisted around, letting out a bloodcurdling monstrous scream right out in front of Ford's very face with a forced as strong as high wind speeds with a gust of hot temperatures that could measure up to the heat of a volcano.

The entirety of the scream lasted for a good ten seconds before Stan stopped, letting out a hot puff, looking back out again with no show of facing Ford again. Ford's glasses were slightly askew on his face, his greying hair tousled out of place from the force they were thrown into. Luckily, Ford was used to this behavior Stan displayed in this form. And wise enough to know it was best to let Stan brew in his emotions a bit before dealing with them.

Taking a deep breath to calm his nerves down and letting it out as a deep sigh, he carefully chose his next words. "Stanley, I'm sorry for what I did. And believe me, I didn't want to resort to such a thing." A gruff huff answered him. "Really! You know as well as I do that I never intend to do such things to you, even in such situations such as this." He stepped forward, getting close enough that while he was a little out of ways at a reaching distance, it still gave Stan enough space not to feel closed up or threatened.

"But you're slightly unpredictable in this state. It's hard to tell if you're in control or if you're not." At that, Stan did turn his head slightly. "We both know it's safe to take precautions, only when necessary. And, well." Ford rubbed the back of his neck, glancing away sideways. "You're memory didn't fully come back right away tonight."

Stan made small sets of clacking sounds, twisting his head to glare at Ford, though the red tint in his orbs were fading but still lingered.

"Stanley, I've known about the curse for nearly eight years now."

The orbs turned into a milky white color as Stan reared his head back, looking like an animal that had just been spooked. The milky white soon turned into violet, then it mixed with turquoise. Ford waited, watching the orbs glow in the dark night. A few minutes passed before the orbs returned to their normal bronze color. Stan just stood there for a moment, staring at Ford for a long minute that seemed to be forever.

A high pitched yelp emanated as Stan's newly acquired wings puffed out in full view before quickly covering the whole front of Stan while emanating out small sounds that sounded to be a mix of barks and pips.

Relief flooded Ford as he let out a hearty laugh, reaching his hands out and running them through the forest of abyss black feather that were hiding his brother. "It's fine Stanley! This isn't the first time that it's happened." A high whine came from within the feathers, shifting suddenly downwards till they landed in a mound on the deck with a loud THUMP. Another series of laughs escaped Ford as he knelled down beside the mound.

"It's okay Stanley. No damage was done." Ford calmly spoke, running one hand through the feathers in a slow petting motion. It was a marvel how soft they felt to his touch, and yet so easy to run all six fingers through them. Like they were nothing but air. "You were just having a small recurrence of the nights before I came into light about this."

Stan let out a small grumbling growl, still hiding under the feather mound.

"It could have been worse." Ford shifted himself, sitting Indian style next to his twin, leaning against him as he did a slow sweeping motion with one arm, going in wide circles. "At least you have control of yourself tonight. I didn't think I could handle your other self."

The feathers shifted, parting away enough for an orb to glare at him.

"Alright, alright, fine." Ford sighed after staring at the orb for some time. "We both know that's a lie. But, still." He smiled softly as the orb loosened its glare at him. "It's nice to know that you're still yourself."

Stan was still for a moment. Finally, with a huff, Stan shifted his body, drawing back his wings and folding them neatly against his back. Long thin bird-like legs folded under his body, hidden completely from view and out of sight. Stan growled, jittering clicks as he faced Ford.

"I'm glad that's been settled." Ford held out a hand, rubbing under Stan's jaw. A deep powerful rumble emanated from Stan's throat, leaning into Ford's touch as the orbs turned a pinkish tint. "Now, if I may?" He held up the tape recorder.

Stan stared at the little device. With a puff, he laid his neck down on the ground.

"Thank you." Ford cleared his throat, running a hand along Stan's neck. "Tonight is a safe night. The curse has taken effect but Stanley still retains his memories. Last new moon study was on the legs. Now I want to shift focus on the wings." Below him, Stan let out a whine.

The inside of the Stan O' War II was warm as Ford stepped inside. He didn't like to leave Stan by himself out there, but his body was too big to fit through the door and Stan didn't like confined spaces in his cursed form. He would be back out again as soon as his body warmed up again.

And coffee. Coffee sounded nice at the moment.

With the kettle on the stove, Ford sat down on at the small table, taking out a small booklet hidden within the wall. It was a small book, smaller than his first three journals with white cover and an antler symbol on the front. Small bookmarks stuck out between pages, one having a kitty sticker on it.

He opened the small book near the front. A drawn picture of Stan's current form stared right back at him, hunched in a sitting position.

I was finally able to convince Stanley to let me draw a small picture of his 'curse' in this journal. It's not much but since this is the only thing that has not disappeared yet, it's safe to assume that it won't be going away any time soon.

I've note down some parts of his body that could help in finding out what this curse is and how to possible undo it.

Head- The only part of his body that's skeletal. The head resembles much like a horse, eye sockets are position in the upper side area giving forward and sideways view. Teeth have turned sharp with strong bite force. Been bitten once and had to get stitches and a cast in a sling, but no signs of the curse being transferred to me. Can now rule out one possible theory of how Stanley got inflicted with the curse.

Antlers- Grow out from the back of the head. They grow out like tree limbs that reach almost all the way to his tail. Very sharp. Tried to touch them once, resulting in the bite incident. Apparently, whatever Stanley has turned into doesn't like it when someone tries to touch their antlers.

Ears- Between the head and antlers. Big, round, and can turn in all directions. And very soft to play with~. Noted that this should not be a constant thing as Stanley does NOT enjoy having his ears touched and having my hands so close to his antlers. Don't want my arm in a cast again.

Neck- Long, like a llama, covered in thick 'mane' comprised of fur and feathers that blend together it's hard to tell if it's fur or feather. Starts at the back of the head and ends at the shoulders.

Body- Slim, long, bony. Fully black in color. Structural standard like a cat, though front limbs are birdlike and the hind legs are that of a mix of lion and wolf. Back, underbelly, and hind legs are covered in 'fur', but the top halve of front limbs has 'feathers'.

Wings- Interestingly enough, Stanley has two pairs of wings. The first pair are feathers, located on his back near the lower end of the shoulder blades, shaped for speed as they match the structure of a peregrine falcon. Almost three times the size of his body, yet folds up neatly on his back they appear smaller this way. Second pair are located further down on the sides of the spinal cord. Skin is in place of feathers, matching the same way as a bat. These are more for power as more muscles are developed here and much bigger than the first pair, giving more boost to flight and strength. Second pair fold inside the body, showing no trace of their existence unless needed.

Tail- Extends out the back with an impressive twenty feet. Trail of 'mane' goes down from the base end flank all the way to the tip ending in a tuff. The tail can act as a whip and form of limb grabbing appendage.

Eyes- One orb in each eye socket, changes various colors depending on Stanley's mood. Shift and bend to match facial expressions and has been amusing to see what they can do.

Using these key factors I've collected, these could help in finding what Stanley turns into every new moon night. If I can compare to what creature that closely resembled these parts, then maybe I can find a way to fix this. Hopefully soon.

The day he wrote this was seven years ago. And he was still no closer to finding anything about it.

The next few pages had some monsters that they tracked down, matching some similarities to Stan's curse.

The Jersey Devil was the closest to matching, than a griffin, a dragon, wendigo, sphinx, chupacabra, nagas, couple of tree spirits, ghosts, manticors, gargoyles, vampires, black dogs, mngwa, trolls, ghouls, and countless other creatures that they encounter over the years.

Nothing.

Stan's curse was certainly one of a kind.

Not even spells could undo it. And Ford had literally kidnapped a witch one time to undo Stan's curse, but nothing could break it and Ford was turned into a cat for a week.

He sighed deeply, rubbing circles in his skin at his temple.

Eight years of work and still he could find no clues.

Stan really needed to stop being such a big mystery

Stan really hated it when it was a new moon night. When he transformed into this… thing. New limbs and all the stuff.

He hated how his senses were torn from human and whatever he was. He wanted to be human. He was human! He remembered being born human. Not… this! He knew it was a curse. Curse of what? He couldn't remember. What did he do? He didn't know. Was there anything he did? No. Did he touch anything? No. Did he have anything that could help?

NO!

He was cursed and that's all he knew! Why or how he had no recollection of! He knew when he got the curse. Five years after 'the incident' happened, but that was it! His memory was fussy after that and nothing else.

Stan sighed, gazing at his reflection in the water. It was ugly to look at himself like this. The monsters they met over the past decade had uglier looks, but Stan always found himself disgusted more by his own reflection. He hated how he looked, how unnatural his body was shaped now.

Being forced to take on a new body every new moon night, fighting every part of himself to stay in control, trying so hard not to let Sixer know how much this was getting to him. If Ford knew then he'd dive deeper than he already was trying to find a way to reverse the curse.

Stan wasn't an idiot. He knew Ford was trying to help, but yeesh! Poor guy was running himself ragged trying to find anything that would help. Heck, he even dragged a witch to help and that didn't even work! He was stuck with a cat for a brother for a week.

That was hardly any fun.

One ear twitched, and Stan looked away from his reflection over to the door. Ford came out, carrying a mug in one hand and a book under his arm. His face scrunched up and his eyes had the look of a man trying to solve the greatest mystery of the world.

Stan grumbled a greeting as his brother came over, setting the mug down and taking out the little recorder. "The first study of the first pair of wings have been fruitless. As recorded before, any samples that I tried to study for further analyses disintegrates the moment it's detached from Stanley's body. It leaves no trace and studying it while it's still attached to Stanley has proven to be very frustrating." Ford grabbed hold of one wing, pulling it out some so that the feathers spread out. "Each time I tried to study the feathers of the first set of wings, it's always a different alignment in the barbs. Overlapping, under lapping, crisscrossing, and sometimes even straight."

"No anomalies we've come across has the same set as these feathers. But what of the second set? What secrets do they hold? I want to study every possible clue that could be hidden in case there's any chance of finding a way to break the curse."

Stan huffed, bending his neck down on the rail as he got comfortable. It was going to be a long night.

Four hours came and went, and Ford was no closer than when he had started.

Ford yawned, rubbing his eyes. Nothing new tonight. Just like all the other nights over the past years. Nothing to help or point him in the right direction.

Stan trilled softly, bumping his nose against Ford's shoulder.

"I'm not tired Stanley. I need to find something." He glanced at the outstretched wing laid out on his lap. The booklet was laid out on top, open on a page with a drawn out detail of the bat wing appendage, notes drawn all over with every little detail Ford could grasp at. Anything that would help. "Anything."

Stan rumbled lowly. They both knew it was a lie. Ford had tried countless times trying to find anything that could link to Stan's curse, but nothing ever did.

"Just have to find it." Ford grabbed the mug, almost completely empty and gone cold hours ago, and downed the rest of it. "Just need to keep looking."

He set the mug aside and was back to studying the wing again, not stopping until midnight, clocked out against his brother, snoring away peacefully with Stan's wing draped around him, shielding him from the cold.

It was nice to see his brother getting some sleep, but he hated how Ford only got it after exhausting all his energy. All because of him.

A deep sigh echoed in the darkness, shifting into a more comfortable position without waking Ford up.

This needed to stop. Ford could barely stay awake now a days, and hardly stopped to take care of himself trying to find anything that would help break this curse. And one way or another, it was going to kill Ford. From lack of taking care of himself or by Stan himself, he didn't know. And he didn't want to know, or to happen.

Ford had too much on his mind trying to help Stan out, too determined to let it go after fruitless trails and countless errors. Nothing helped and nothing worked. Stan had given up years ago before Ford came back and found out about it. He tried to talk Ford out of finding anything that would help, humor him a bit and trying to keep him from going past any limits he couldn't do. But Ford was stubbornly persistent.

Just like a real Pines man. Stubbornness run's in the family.

Stan curled around Ford, getting comfortable as he closed his eyes. His body would keep them warm until the first rays of the sun broke through the horizon. The curse would then disappear till the next new moon night. For now though, he just wanted to get some shut eye.

Darker, darker, and darker still.

Every direction held darkness.

He yelped and chirped, bumping the ground with his nose, scratching everything.

Was it safe? How far had they gone? How far away were they from home?

He looked back at his friend, chirping at her to keep up.

Bluey was slow, looking around. Scared, sad. So far away from home.

He bounded over to her, pawing at her legs.

No need to be sad.

Bluey had him!

He would protect her!

She sent him a small smile.

Too small. Too sad. He needed her to be happy!

Bouncing and leaping around with happy chirps, trying to get her to smile.

Still small smile.

Needed her to be happy.

But what could he do?

The mother had sent them away.

They needed to get home.

That would make her happy again.

How?

It was dangerous without big guide.

And he was still little.

They needed help.

They needed to get home.

How would they get there without big guide?

Without mother?

They needed help!

They needed.

They needed.

They needed.

{Svok.}

It echoed in the darkness.

It crawled along the land.

It soar through the skies.

It cut through the barrier.

It crawled through the sea.

It reached a small boat out on the sea.

On the boat, an ear twitched.

12-19-22-18 4-17-1 17-22-18-3-19-26.

1-4-13-20 4-12 3-19-4-2-20 17-22-24-23-11.

3-16-10-17-1 3-6 11-23-26 12-6-18-3-16-19.

17-16 19-22-18-22-11-12 22-17 23-26-22-24-23-11.

2-5-17 2-16-10 12-16-19-9-26 11-23-26 13-22-1-1-19-26?

4-17-1 18-4-6-3-26 24-26-11 22-11 13-22-24-23-11?