This choice: Ripping your examination from your body, you look around the room. • Go Back...Chapter #5You look around the room. by: Mr. George   Wondering what kind of hallucination, or trick this is. You force yourself to put down the mirror. Your hands tremble with the effort, as you ease yourself off the bed. Not wanting to look away from the mirror, half expecting it to vanish if you look away.
You draw a shuddering breath, and make a deliberate effort to close your eyes, shut out the world. It's harder to deny the various sensations from your body as being delusional. The brush of the material over your body as you breathe. The innate sense of just being smaller, weaker is hard to fight.
Opening your eyes once more, you feel your eyelashes fluttering, as if they're bigger. They feel like butterflies have been attached, and you see the same distorted reality around you. Your body, still as feminine, your skins still as soft. Your body still as... still the same.
Nodding curtly to yourself, you have to admit this is truly your body. The half-reflection in the glass merely confirming this as the birthday present you never expected or wanted. Not feeling ready to leave the room, barely able to move you scan the room taking in all the differences.
Fixating on the closed wardrobe, you stealthily approach it. Unsure whether you're trying to catch sight of who ever is behind this. Hoping to catch sight of your clothes. Your boy clothes. Equally dreading seeing girl clothes.
You rip the door open with a heave, as if tearing off a plaster. The various items swing in the sudden gust. The diaphanous tops, blouses, skirts, and dresses swinging back and forth at your reveal. Your pulse pounds in your ears, as you turn your back on the vision of all those girly clothes. Allowing your weight to press the door closed, you only step away when you hear the magnetic catch click into place, hiding them from view.
The posters on the walls, now of boy bands, no hint of the fast sports cars, or the bikini clad beauties. The colour scheme is softer, more pastel, and less deep black, blue and red. The bedside table hidden beneath an avalanche of beauty and fashion magazines. But it's the make-up table that catches your attention. Its top covered with all kinds of sprays, lotions, balms, powders and God knows what. The three fold mirror making it hard not to catch your reflection.
Sitting down at the table, you wonder how to use all these things. Your eyes fall on the picture in the frame. A family portrait, slightly off, clearly you recognise yourself. Well, your female self in the mirror and in the picture.
You bury a gasp of realisation behind your hand, as you see John. Your brother.... Well, sister now, if you're to believe the picture. You also have to stare at your parents picture to see the differences, and similarities there. They've swapped too. Your mum's face still recognisable, the soft face, now looking masculine, with a harder jaw line, but still the same handsome features.  indicates the next chapter needs to be written. |
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