Wade stepped towards the bedroom door. The vibrant yellow shag carpet felt oddly comforting beneath his feet. As he reached the door, his hand briefly paused on the knob. With a deep, steadying breath, he turned the knob and stepped into the hallway, his eyes searching for the bathroom.
He was greeted by walls adorned with a floral pattern in orange, brown, yellow, and green. The hallway was illuminated by a pendant light fixture with a colorful glass shade, casting a warm glow. Family photographs lined the walls, each in simple wooden frames. At the end of the hallway, another bedroom door stood slightly open. The bathroom door next to the other bedroom was also slightly ajar. Wade hurriedly walked into it. The bathtub and the sink were an ugly avocado green. A yellow shag bath mat, matching the carpet, complemented the bathroom's linoleum floor. 'This house needs some serious updates,' Wade thought.
Above the sink hung a mirror framed in ornate, tarnished metal. Wade steeled himself, his heart pounding in his chest, and looked up. The reflection that stared back was a shock to his system. A young boy who looked no older than eleven, with wide, frightened eyes and a mop of unkempt sandy blond hair that seemed to have a life of its own. The face was round with the softness of youth. He was about 4'7", he guessed.
"This is...me?" Wade whispered, the words barely audible. His voice had a delicate, airy quality. Wade reached out, his fingers touching the cool glass, half-expecting to pass through it to prove this was all some elaborate illusion. But the glass remained solid and unyielding.
The sound of footsteps, heavy and measured, echoed down the hallway. Wade's lips pursed into a thin line, and his eyes widened. Panic surged through him. He darted back into his bedroom, closing the door softly behind him and locking it. Wade paced, his mind a whirlwind of questions with no answers. How had this happened? Was it some form of punishment, a cosmic joke at his expense? Or was it an opportunity, a second chance at life, albeit in a form so drastically different from anything he could have imagined? 'Well, shit,' he thought.
The man's voice, the one who had yelled about the alarm clock, filtered through the door. He would have to interact with these people, whoever they were to this body.
Wade froze, his heart in his throat, as the doorknob rattled. The man was trying to open it.
"Chris, you okay? I heard the alarm clock... and then nothing. Why is the door locked?" the man said, his voice laced with worry and annoyance.
Wade swallowed hard, his mind racing to concoct a plausible response. He unlocked and opened the door, revealing a man who looked to be in his mid-forties, his face tan with smile lines. The man had a slight frown. "Yeah, I... I just had a bad dream, that's why," Wade stammered quickly.
The man studied him for a moment, then nodded, seemingly satisfied. "Alright, well, breakfast is ready when you are. Don't take too long, or I'll eat your pancakes," he said, a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.
As the man closed the door, Wade released a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. The interaction had been brief, but it had revealed a crucial piece of his new life's puzzle—his name was Chris, and this man might be his father or grandfather.
Wade sat on the edge of the bed, his mind a whirlpool of thoughts. One detail stood out: the man's accent. It sounded American, with a hint of a southern drawl. Maybe he was still in America. The thought offered some comfort, but he had no clue when he was. Just because everything was retro didn't mean he was in the '70s, right?
Wade, now Chris, knew he couldn't stay hidden in the bedroom forever. With a heavy sigh, he turned to dressing for the day. The closet's wooden doors creaked slightly as he slid them open, revealing a collection of clothing that screamed the 1970s. He sifted through the garments begrudgingly, finally selecting a pair of well-worn jeans and a striped red t-shirt, the fabric soft from years of washes. All the rest of his clothes were quite formal.
As he dressed, the fabric of the jeans felt heavy and stiff, and the t-shirt hung differently on this younger, more slender frame. Each movement was a reminder of this new body. No shoes were in sight, so he slipped on some socks.
The delicious aroma of breakfast wafted through the house. His stomach growled loudly. Wade opened the bedroom door once more.
The stairs, also covered in yellow shag, gave a muffled creak as he descended. The staircase opened directly to the kitchen. The avocado-green theme continued in the kitchen appliances. The laminated countertops were an orange eyesore.
The man at the green stove glanced over with a smile in greeting, flipping a pancake with a practiced flick of the wrist. Each pancake landed with a soft plop onto the growing stack, golden brown and steaming. He wore a thick flannel shirt patterned in deep blues and greens, the fabric worn at the elbows. A pair of denim jeans and sturdy boots completed his attire as he turned from the stove, a plate of pancakes in hand.
Wade's reply was measured, his tone cautious. "Morning," he said.
"A fine day it is, bud. Pancakes are ready. Hope you're hungry," the man said, gesturing towards the tower of pancakes on the table.
Wade took a seat, conscious of the eyes observing him. The man served him a plate of pancakes, their aroma distracting Wade from his inner turmoil. "Thanks," Wade responded.
He took a few small bites of his pancakes. His gaze briefly wandered to the window by the front door. There were overcast skies and very little sunshine. The ground was covered in snow. 'So winter,' Wade thought.
There was a faint flush of a toilet and soft, light footsteps. A teenage girl emerged from what he guessed was the downstairs bathroom. She was clad in a cozy, oversized sweater. Its rich, earthy tones and intricate patterns gave her a bohemian look. The sleeves were slightly too long, covering her hands except for the tips of her fingers.
Around her neck, a simple, handmade necklace lay against the sweater, its pendant a small, intricate carving or perhaps a stone.
She wore thick, patterned leggings and soft, worn slippers, their fabric faded but clean.
She gracefully sat down across the kitchen table from him. Her long golden blonde hair, untamed and flowing, cascaded over her shoulders, strands occasionally falling forward to frame her face as she moved.
"Hey, sweetie. Pancakes?" the man asked.
The girl offered the man a small, polite smile. "Yes, please," she answered. He placed a generous amount on her plate.
"I thought we could catch the eclipse at the observatory today; we might see something even though it's quite cloudy. Maybe eat out for dinner later?" His tone was casual and inviting yet not imposing.
"Sorry, Dad, I can't. I promised Melissa that we would watch it...at her house," she said, shrugging.
The man, pausing as he poured syrup over the pancakes, gave a nod of understanding, though a hint of disappointment flickered in his eyes. "Melissa, huh? That's cool. You girls planning a little eclipse party?" he asked.
"Yeah, sort of. Just a small get-together. A couple of my girlfriends will be there too," she responded, looking down at her plate, her fork slicing through the stack of pancakes.
He smiled, the prominent lines around his eyes deepening with the gesture. "Sounds fun. Just make sure you take a moment to actually enjoy the eclipse, alright? It's not something that happens every day."
She nodded. "I will, Dad. Promise. Melissa will pick me up soon."
"Looks like it's you and me, Chris, so how about it?" his father asked.
Wade pondered the idea, intrigued by the prospect of exploring this new world yet hesitant to venture into the unknown. "Sure," he replied. The man Wade presumed was his father smiled at him.
"Great, we'll head out after breakfast." The man's smile was wide now. "The observatory is hosting a whole bunch of festivities for the eclipse. They're handing out solar shades to everyone, and there's free food; it will be like the Cedar Valley Summer Festival. Not as grand, though," the man explained, his voice tinged with enthusiasm. "These kinds of eclipses only happen every 25 years or so. It's pretty rare."
He paused, a nostalgic smile spreading across his face. "I remember the last time I saw one. I was quite a bit older than you, in my 20s. It was your mom who drove us down to Seattle to catch it. We made a whole day of it, just like we're planning now. Everyone in town was there, all eyes on the sky. It was quite the sight, something I'll never forget. Sharing that moment, it was... special, you know?" His voice trailed off, lost in the memory.
Wade listened, the story painting a vivid picture in his mind. Despite his confusion and the surreal nature of his current situation, he found a strange comfort in the prospect of experiencing something as universally awe-inspiring as an eclipse. "Sounds terrific, Dad. I'm...I'm looking forward to it," he managed to say, his voice a mix of genuine interest and lingering uncertainty.
The man's smile broadened, his eyes lighting up with relief and joy. "Great! It'll be an adventure, just you and me. And who knows, maybe we'll make some memories, just like I did with your mom. It's all about experiencing these moments together, right?"
His sister rolled her eyes. "You're such a cheese, Dad."
Wade couldn't help but agree. It was pretty cringe. The man chuckled at his daughter's comment, the warmth in his laughter filling the kitchen. "Well, I suppose I am," he admitted, not at all diminished by the playful jab. "But if being a bit cheesy means creating memorable moments with my kids, I'll wear that title proudly." He winked at Wade.
Wade couldn't help but laugh. The absurdness of the situation was really getting to him.
For the rest of breakfast, his new dad talked about his fond memories with their mother. Wade couldn't help but wonder what happened to his mother in this life. 'Was she dead, maybe divorced?' The pictures in the frames were all over the walls. She was there.
His mother radiated a gentle strength and warmth in the photographs. In one, she was cradling him. Beside her was a younger version of his sister, a mirror of her mother. Both had long, flowing golden hair. His father was there, completing the family portrait.
Amid the gentle hum of the refrigerator, a series of knocks at the front door punctuated the air. Thud, thud, thud.
"Skye!" a young woman shouted. Wade's sister sprang ungracefully from her seat and hurried to the door, swinging it open and startling what could only be Melissa. Wade watched with bemusement. It was nice to finally put a name to his sister.
Melissa greeted Skye's dad with a flirty tilt of her head, her eyes twinkling mischievously. "Morning, Mr. Raven. You're looking especially sharp today. Must be all that pancake flipping, huh?" Her voice carried a playful lilt.
His dad scratched his head, seemingly uncomfortable at the comment from the teenage girl. Wade wrinkled his nose, too.
Skye grabbed a large, bulging tote with painted flowers and was already halfway out the door when she paused, a slight frown creasing her forehead.
"Skye, did you remember the robes?" Melissa blurted out.
Skye's eyes widened, a silent plea directed at Melissa, who seemed to realize her mistake too late.
"Bye, Dad! Love you!!" Skye grabbed Melissa by the hand, pulled her out of the doorway, and slammed the door shut.
"Bye, Mister Raven!" Melissa purred.
"That girl..." His father blanched.
"Mister Raven...huh..." Wade mumbled in curiosity. 'Was his dad a hippy? That would make me Chris Raven. Sounds...Edgy. I don't not like it. Would that make me an Edge-Lord?'
"Don't even start, Chris," his dad said.
"What did I do?" Wade asked. His father gave him a side-eye.