Lights flickered from a lamp hanging from a low ceiling, barely illuminating the scanty room below.
An old fashioned alarm clock, the kind with bells on either side, began to ring loudly, breaking the peace of the still and nearly dead silent room, which up until then, was only broken by periodic heaves evidencing the presence of someone in the room.
A figure stirred on the lower lower half of an metal bunk and the iron bars underneath groaned from supporting his full weight. A young man with deep olive skin, long braided hair and sharp eyes groggily rubbed his eyelids a couple of times before breathing out deeply.
He looked at the table right by his bed, filled with a sense of vertigo and having an insatiable desire to fall back asleep.
On the average day Michael would sit in bed for about an hour tossing and turning, trying to acclimate to the sudden change in his state, but today, he knew he had to get up earlier.
He was getting ready for an online certification exam, and was hyper the night before for all the money he would get once he landed one of those remote jobs everyone seemed to be on these days.
He grabbed his towel off the bathroom door and dived in ready to make it rain and cool the sudden heat that spawns from nowhere seemingly once one wakes up.
He turned the knob and all he got was a wheeze instead of actual water from the shower head
"I can't believe clean water has been added to the list of items deprived because of this shitty war rumor" Michael sighed
it was a disappointment, one which was bound to come sooner or later.
He grunted in displeasure and reached for a bucket in the corner, walking out of the room and hoping to get some from the borehole directly outside his dorm as he was lucky to be right beside the main entrance, and thus very close to it.
Upon stepping foot outside outside, Michael needed just one breath of fresh air after staying in that stuffy room all night to convince him to admire the beauty of his varsity.
The vast field was evergreen, softly and gently illuminated by the rays of the morning sun, the dew visible, bending and nearly breaking the narrow and slender leaves of the grass they rested upon, the slight breeze gliding past his skin and bringing relief as though one floated with its passing.
Everything felt better now that he was basically one of the few people left in school, the finals were the week before, and with its passing scanty rooms, halls, and roads followed.
He craned his neck left, to the iconic yet always strange dorm buildings. The red bricks, the moss covered walls with net like cracks spreading all over, hinting at the aged and depreciating state of the buildings.
"wait, wait" he repeated as he sighed for the second time in five minutes
His thoughts gathered as he came back to reality upon realizing he was wasting valuable time appreciating nature instead of studying. In a hurry, he skipped the stairs by jumping three steps, and just as he placed his bucket under the tap and began to heave on the handle of the seemingly prehistoric machinery no one ever had to use, a deafening siren blared out, killing whatever sense of calm the serene environment had given him.
On the average day Michael would look right after looking left, or even look right first, just because of how much he loved the view. The college was on a hill, and overlooked a city below, courtesy of the cryptic vice chancellor.
Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed something strange. What looked to be a bird, but was much bigger and much too rigid to be one, seemed to zoom, no, it was better to say it began to plummet, because up until that point, the contrails following closely behind suggested it was gliding. It piqued his interest, and he edged closer to the iron netting installed as a makeshift fence, his fingers digging into it, face pressed tightly against it, nearly wishing he could phase through it, and right before his eyes, just as it made contact…
A sudden, and terrifyingly growing ball of light, accompanied by a thunderclap, and rapidly expanding shockwaves of air forcing the dust into dreadful contours. Before he could get his thoughts together, he took a step back and turned in the same instant, spurned by his survival instincts set in.
His following steps were rough and rugged, motivated by the frightening realization of what was about to occur, and like most other people, he had nearly fallen twice in the past thirty seconds, but he got back up for fear of what would befall him in the event he didn't. He couldn't afford to notice anyone else, but in his desperation and confusion, the familiar sound of scrambling footsteps around followed him and that was all he held onto, hoping he made it in time to the one place which could very well serve to save his life, the bunker at the far end of the school.
For weeks prior there were threats of a third world war, and tension was high all around the world, from the middle east, to the world powers, to even smaller insignificant countries in the grand scheme of things taking sides and condemning actions and inactions. Fear, uncertainty and disillusionment ruled the coming months before this cataclysmic event.
He hadn't taken enough strides to get to the emergency bunker at the far end of the school field, before the echoes of a shockwave drew nearer and louder by the second. Breathing hard and in a desperate race against time, he charted his best course of movement and decided to thread through some structures leading up to the bunker.
No sooner had he exited the rear door of the cafeteria, than a sudden gust came upon him from the back, flinging him like a ragdoll against the rough concrete floor. Then everything was black and cold, and that was all that mattered.
By the time Michael, or what remined of him stirred, he was sprawled on his back under what seemed to be the rubble, discombobulated and confused.
There was a constant ringing in his head, threatening to deafen him permanently, and nearly subduing slight, muffled, almost imperceivable cries from above and around him.
He opened his mouth, the shape for a cry on his lips, but all he heard were stifled gurgles and gasps, evidencing the air bubbles trapped in his throat. He began blink rapidly, losing his grip on the reality around him, desperately trying to reject things. And with every cycle his eyelids shut off to the world, he began to see a bright light, an unusually bright light, enveloping a fragile looking palm, and as he reached out to it, praying to whatever Gods existed to save him, to rescue him from this nightmare, vertigo took a hold of him.
It was sudden.
A cacophony of sounds; the rough pounding of rain, the slushy sound from erosion in real time, even the distant rumble of thunder.
The hand he reached out and firmly grabbed onto, seemed to dwarf his own. It dwarfed him way too much.
"such beautiful babies, now who could've possibly left you in this foul weather" a low, yet feminine voice resounded as a lady in a raincoat bent over to pick up a small wooden casket with a baby inside.
He could barely hear anything, all of a sudden, everything was irritating, the annoying wailing he heard from either side of him, his sudden hunger, the way his field of view narrowed down, the strange displeasing smells assaulting his nostrils, everything. He saw he was in what resembled a cave, more of a pit, to be precise, tried to reach out to the edge of the cave he seemed to be in.
He had had gone spelunking in the past, and while he hated it, he never had any memories of experiencing weird symptoms such as these while on am expedition, especially one where everything tripled in size.
Michael stared down at his tiny, pudgy hands, still trying to make sense of it all. His fingers once strong, dexterous and calloused from gripping pull up bars and working night shifts were now soft, stubby, and completely useless. He wiggled them, as if hoping they'd return to their familiar form, but no such luck. A shrill cry escaped from his throat as his confusion turned to frustration, but all that met his ears was the high-pitched wail of a child a sound he had never made in his life since he attained consciousness.
His head wobbled as he looked around the room, soft colors and a large window letting in too cold air; something the strange lady fixed a moment later. It was like being trapped in the world of a child's fantasy, and he was not amused. The walls were adorned with hand drawn images of smiling animals and gentle clouds. There was a damn rocking horse in the corner, for gods' sake.
His mind tried to fight the reality of it, but no matter how hard he focused, he could feel his new body, hear his toddler cries, and taste the bitter tang of confusion in his mouth. This wasn't real.
The stranger came around to pick him up , he could feel his small body squirm in her arms as she cradled him, rocking back and forth, but his mind was consumed with a single thought: (What the hell was happening?).
He wanted to shout, to demand answers, to tear this illusion apart, but all that came out was a gurgle. The frustration of his situation mounted, but his new form was weak, unable to express anything other than childish sounds and basic needs. He had been reduced to an infant.
"I don't belong here," he muttered to himself, the words barely a whisper from his lips, though they would have been incomprehensible to anyone else regardless of how loud he could have been.
But the truth lingered. This was his reality now. He could no longer deny it. He had been reincarnated, thrust into the fragile body of a toddler, and everything else was a mystery.