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.