It had all started with a giant lurch that jolted me awake. I was forced to open my eyes to the warmth of sunlight that caressed my left check, to the sharp bursts of air gulped greedily by my starved lungs. I felt like I had run a marathon! My eyelids were still slightly held together by the sticky fingers of slumber when a wobbly, petrified scream rang out.
My bed had always been across a mirror and right now my mirror reflected a small kid hogging up my bed, wearing a seemingly over sized identical pyjama set and a look of pure fear - my three year old clone. A tidal wave of confusion raged, hitting me in the face. Was I dreaming? It took about 2.5 seconds and a smack in the face to realize I was not.
Frustration grabbed me by its fingers and threw me up and down; I felt like puking.
Needles prodded my head- what had happened during the night?
Stumbling out of bed proved to be a difficult task for my chubby legs, which were now shorter than before. It felt like a century later when I finally reached the living room.
Everything looked ages younger. My stomach had twisted itself into a series of complicated knots which made me even more queasy. It was like I could remember whatever happened when I was three but everything after that was a blur- like looking through a frosted window.
Desperately I tried to rationalize things out but my brain had decided to pick today, of all days, to go the Bahamas. Feeble disposition and exasperation clouded my thoughts- what evil had possessed me and turned back my days? Pinpricks of tears stung me eyes and a cocktail of anger, fear and impatience pumped through my veins and beat against my heart.
I resisted the urge to pull at my hair, sighing I sat down and it was at that moment in time when calm black waters claimed me.
By Andrea Fernandes, as her response for the second task.
My bed had always been across a mirror and right now my mirror reflected a small kid hogging up my bed, wearing a seemingly over sized identical pyjama set and a look of pure fear - my three year old clone. A tidal wave of confusion raged, hitting me in the face. Was I dreaming? It took about 2.5 seconds and a smack in the face to realize I was not.
Frustration grabbed me by its fingers and threw me up and down; I felt like puking.
Needles prodded my head- what had happened during the night?
Stumbling out of bed proved to be a difficult task for my chubby legs, which were now shorter than before. It felt like a century later when I finally reached the living room.
Everything looked ages younger. My stomach had twisted itself into a series of complicated knots which made me even more queasy. It was like I could remember whatever happened when I was three but everything after that was a blur- like looking through a frosted window.
Desperately I tried to rationalize things out but my brain had decided to pick today, of all days, to go the Bahamas. Feeble disposition and exasperation clouded my thoughts- what evil had possessed me and turned back my days? Pinpricks of tears stung me eyes and a cocktail of anger, fear and impatience pumped through my veins and beat against my heart.
I resisted the urge to pull at my hair, sighing I sat down and it was at that moment in time when calm black waters claimed me.
By Andrea Fernandes, as her response for the second task.