When one door closes another one opens.

 

Nick Williams blew some dust off of the strange object. He and his wife, both a little tipsy after a night of imbibing, had decided to play a game of “what weird shit can we find in the basement?” In their defense, things like that were actually amusing when you were drunk. Stella had fished out a glass orb, clouded and dimmed with age, its once intricate crystalline designs faded.

“So what is that thing, exactly?” Nick said.

“My Cousin gave it to me on our wedding day. She said “If that man of yours ever gives you any trouble, just make a wish on this stone. The Man in blue and yellow will hear you and grant your wish.”

“Really? Your Cousin was always such a weird girl.”

“Eh, she was, you know, into the mystical things. I don’t think she ever really got over me marrying her Ex.”

“So, have you ever wished on it?”

“No, but I’m still thinking about it, so watch your step, mister.”

“Well, if you won’t, then I will,” he said, snatching the object away.

But what was there to wish for, really? He had pretty much everything he wanted in life, even at the young age of thirty. A wonderful and loving wife, a big beautiful house out in a nice neighborhood, a job that was actually both likable and well-paying at a local advertising firm.

He decided to take the orb upstairs and ruminate on the issue. He was an amateur photographer in his spare time and posted a lot of his work on sites like tumblr and Instagram. The problem with those sites, though, was that people his age and gender were not exactly the primary userbase, and to get to the photos he wanted to see he had to sift through a lot of teenage drama about homework, breakups, and petty rivalries. When he logged on to the front page that night, he was greeted with an impressively melodramatic rant written by some 12-year-old girl about how her parents just didn’t understand her, her boyfriend was a jerk, her teachers were literally Nazis, ad infinite. Nick had brought a beer with him and took a sip. “Sheesh,” he muttered. “Complain, complain, complain. Enjoy it while it lasts, kid, because being an adult is much harder and no one’s going to listen to your whining. If I was in your shoes I’d be on easy street. I wish there was some way I could show that to you.”

The stone, which he had tossed on his bed, started to glow a bright blue. Nick saw it out of the corner of his eye and then whirled around in his chair to face it. The stone levitated into the air, and then began to spin. Nick knew he should get up and run, but the spectacle was frankly too fascinating to run away from. He watched as the stone seemed to dissolve into nothing but light, first a globe, then unwinding into a long stream, which, after a long pause where the air hung thick in the room, snaked right into Nick’s chest with an astounding speed, passing right through and coming out the other side before fading away into nothingness.

Nick took a few moments to contemplate what had just happened. Then he scrambled out of his chair and ran downstairs to tell Mako. “OK, I know you’re not gonna believe me, but listen. You know that weird stone you got from your cousin? Well, I was minding my own business, you know, getting caught up online, and all of a sudden it started, um…” what exactly had happened?

Stella had a concerned look on her face. “Honey, I honestly have no clue what you’re talking about…are you feeling OK?”

“I’m feeling fine, jeez!” He said, then instantly fumbled for an apology. Where had that little outburst come from? Whatever it was, if tonight was going to be one of his ill-tempered nights, perhaps he should just spend it alone.

There was a knock at the door. When Mako went to open it, it turned out to be Nimi and Red Wilkins, their next door neighbors. The couple was about ten years older than Nick and Mako, and while they got along decently enough, they certainly weren’t terribly close; an unexpected visit at this time of the night was a strange occurrence indeed.

“We heard a noise from your second floor,” Red explained. “Is everything alright?”

“Yeah, everything’s fine,” Nick said. He gave the two an odd look; there was something different about them. Not physically, just…emotionally. Like he was feeling a connection to them that he never had before. Red seemed to be regarding him with the same studied intensity. Finally she said, “Nick, did you do something to your hair? Looks different. Thicker, definitely, a little lighter too. New shampoo?”

“Oh, please,” Mako said. “Nick’s physically scared of shopping. Whenever I go, he orders me—orders!—to get the cheapest generic one at the store, ‘nothing fancy’.”

“Well, maybe it’s just me, then,” Red said.

Nick excused himself to the bathroom to take a look with his own eyes. Red was right—it did look different. And that wasn’t the only thing that looked different. He looked distinctly younger, a few of the (small; he wasn’t that old) wrinkles around his eyes and mouth, mostly gained through his own poor behavior, nights of smoking and boozing, seemed to be much less prominent. His face looked a little rounder too, his jaw less angular. But more than any single feature was the feeling that his body was being tightened, constricted, in a weird, non-physical way. Nick shrugged off the feeling and decided he’d only do something about it if it got worse.

For whatever reason, the Wilkinses had elected to stay for a bit while Mako brewed up some coffee. They shared some awkward small talk about how their jobs were going, what they planned to do for the holidays, and so forth. Normally, Nick could hold his own when it came to talking with Nimi about cars, beer, and sports, but for whatever reason, none of those topics held much interest for him tonight. So he sat quietly and uncomfortably throughout the conversation, resisting the urge to take out his phone and get lost in his own world. Like anyone over the age of 25, he knew that was impolite, and he wasn’t much of a smartphone addict anyway.

“At least school is letting back in tomorrow,” said Mako. Things will be a bit more quiet around here.”

Geez, my wife sounds like an old fart, Nick thought to himself darkly. Might as well stand outside yelling kids to get off her lawn. Even though he was thirty too, it suddenly seemed like a much larger number than he remembered. Thirty, really? It somehow felt to him like he couldn’t be that far along. Maybe more like twenty-five. But then how did he end up meeting Mako in the first place? He brushed the thoughts out of his mind for now.

“Well, I suppose it’s nice,” Red said. “I kind of enjoy the ruckus, though. Makes the neighborhood feel more alive. I guess I just notice it more since I started working from home.” She looked nervous, like she knew she shouldn’t say what was coming next, but couldn’t stop herself. “Frankly, it’s depressing. Nimi and I have wanted a kid for so long, but we’ve just never been able to conceive. Neither of us know what the problem is, and now we’re just getting too old.”

Nimi looked like he had just been slapped. “A bit too personal, honey, don’t you think?” He muttered. Mako laughed nervously and said “I’m very sorry to hear that, Red, um…have you considered adoption?”

“Yes, I know that’s an option,” the woman said. “But really, I just feel like it wouldn’t be the same. “It would always be a reminder of what I couldn’t have. I know that sounds terrible,” she said matter-of-factly, taking another sip of coffee. “What about you and Nick?”

“Well, I suppose we’ve considered it, maybe a few years from now. I’m expecting to get a raise by then, and he might too…”

Nick said nothing. He knew he’d given a thumbs-up to the idea in the past. The other guys at the firm, now that most of them had grown out of their benders-and-hookups phase, spent lots of time talking about their kids, and Nick hated to feel left out. And he really did think he’d make a good dad; he had the right personality for it, and the kid would definitely be well-provided for. But it suddenly seemed so unnerving and burdensome and, well, lame. A bunch of little brats running around, getting into all his good stuff, always making demands on his life. A few years? Try ten. Try twenty. For no apparent reason, Nick was suddenly questioning why he got married at all.

“So we’ve been thinking of getting the north side of the house re-sided,” Nimi said. “We’re still debating whether to go aluminum or vinyl. Aluminum would be more expensive but it would last longer, and it’s better for the environment. Also, we don’t think we kept records on the paint we used, so we’ll call Home Depot and see if they can—“

Nick suddenly stood up from his chair, making a loud and conspicuous “ugh!” noise. He knew he was acting like a child, but he couldn’t help it. This conversation was so boring! Who actually cared about stuff like that? He’d rather be alone in his room than listen to this crap. He stomped off, unintentionally balling his fists, hunching his shoulders, and making melodramatic, knee-high stomps with each step. He stormed up the stairs, yelling a not-at-all-believable “I’m going to bed, good night!” back behind him. When he got up there, he slammed the door behind him, because why not?”

Mako looked like she wanted to squirm away to somewhere dark and private herself. “I’m sorry. He’s been a bit…cranky, tonight. I’m sure he’ll get over it soon.

Bob nodded. “Yeah, I remember when I was first out of college. Not fun. Didn’t take much to set me off.”

When Nick went back to his room, he found that his computer was still where he left it, open to the same page, along with his half-full beer bottle. He read the same rant he had before, only this time he felt something different. The girl, whoever she was, kind of had a point. He took another sip of the beer, only to find it so disgusting that he spat it right out on the carpet.

Nick was feeling odd that entire night. He tried watching some basketball, doing a few household chores, even going so far as to dive into his briefcase and see what busywork he could knock out. Nothing seemed to be working. He kept feeling this incomprehensible sense that he belonged somewhere else. But how could he? This was his home. It had been since he got married seven years ago.

Not only that, but the weird physical sensations were increasing. His body kept feeling more and more cramped and tight, like some force was trying to shove it into too small a space. He also felt like something was rapidly sapping his strength; he was never exactly Mr. Universe, but he went to the gym often enough and didn’t binge and carbs, and definitely didn’t get tired by just hanging around, doing day to day stuff, like some of his unhealthily scrawny or tubby coworkers did. He got down on the kitchen floor to do a few experimental push-ups, stunningly admitting defeat after just five. Sucked just as much as it did in gym class…

Wait, why would he think like that? He hadn’t had a gym class in twelve years. And even then he hadn’t hated it. That’s what worried him most about whatever was happening. Physical problems he could deal with, if he had some sort of sudden-onset muscle dystrophy disease, or hell, maybe he’d just picked up a tapeworm somewhere. It might be painful, and costly, but they didn’t fill him with the same sense of dread that this new feeling did, this feeling that his very mind, his very self, was somehow at stake. Like he was being filled with thoughts that weren’t his own.

What was worse still is that it felt, on some deep unknown level, right. Like the life he had been living was the illusion that was being exposed, and this ‘hostile’ takeover by unknown forces was actually a very delayed reveal of his true purpose in life. But why would he think that? He had never had any real problems with his life; any objective observer would look it at and call him blessed.

He ended up spending a large chunk of the night back in his room, browsing the internet. Only this time, instead of going straight to his various sports sites or catching up on the news, he found himself spending time on Tumblr, Pinterest, Facebook, and all sorts of other sites he thought himself to old for. It was a surreal experience. He kept seeing status updates from people he was sure he didn’t know, but when he refreshed the page, they were gone. He found himself reading fanfiction about characters and stories he’d never read about or even heard of, and hanging on every word. Even worse, he found himself embarrassingly blushing when stories featuring two male love interests saw fit to consummate their relationship. He found himself sighing and mooning over pictures he would have dismissed as worthless schmaltz just a few hours ago; heavily filtered pictures of landscapes and sunsets, blank pages with inspiration quotes written on them in some modern-looking font, and of course, the ever-present pictures of cute pets and babies doing adorable things.

And the feelings in his body weren’t going away. The newest and most unwelcome developments were tight, swollen feelings in his chest, and a strange feeling of structural change in his groin. When he put a hand down to feel it, it definitely felt smaller than it used to, which freaked Nick out more than anything else that had happened. His chest, for its part, was feeling not just swollen but soft, as if all the effort he’d put in at the gym hadn’t even happened. He put a cautious hand to one of his pecs and squished it. He was greeted with a disturbingly sensitive feeling that made him unwilling to experiment anymore. Even so, he couldn’t help stealing a glance at it every few minutes, and it definitely seemed rounder and fuller, even as the rest of his body felt like it was shrinking away into pipe-cleaner limbs and a fey, waspish torso. Furthermore, his clothes weren’t getting any baggier on him; in fact, they were actually changing along with his body. His shirt had lost most of its buttons and was now looking like a polo, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, the color changing from a professional navy to a bright green-pink combo. His slacks had crawled all the way up to his knees and gotten tighter around his waist and butt, his belt turning from a thin and unobtrusive brown to a heavily studded black one. Even his socks had changed, going from thin and black to bright white, with two red stripes near the top, and knee high.

It was pitch-black out now this late at night, and Nick had chosen not to turn any lamps on. He normally liked the privacy, and it was useful to fool Mako into thinking he was asleep (but wait…he thought, why would I need to do that?), but now it was feeling distinctly foreboding. He hadn’t been scared of monsters under the bed or anything like that since he was a little kid. Still, he couldn’t help looking behind him to see if there was anything lurking there, but saw nothing. At least, until one of his paranoid checks did reveal something: Unless his eyes deceived him, the back wall was moving toward him at a frighteningly quick pace.

Nick bolted up out of his chair. What was happening? Was he going crazy? He looked at the wall, trying to discern whether it was an illusion, but it didn’t look like it. As the wall got closer, Nick panicked, grabbing a few essentials that he thankfully had on the desk—wallet, keys, laptop, credit cards—and getting out of the room as fast as he could. He had barely closed the door when he heard the advancing wall slam into the door behind him. It was no illusion. Then, as he watched, the door itself began to fade away into the wall. Nick made one last desperate grasp at the doorknob, trying to see what was going on, but it too eluded his grasp, falling lamely to the floor and then dissolving into non-existence.

A new door had appeared across the hall. Nick went over to look at it. Cautiously opening it, he saw a bedroom clearly designed for one person. One bed, one dresser, one nightstand. It must be Mako’s room. But where was his? Wait, why would he have a room here. He didn’t…live here? Was that right? It had to be.

Nick looked down at his wallet; it had transformed, without his noticing, from the old, mature-looking leather one to a furry pink one with a black flower pattern. He didn’t quite feel like looking inside yet.

When he went downstairs, Mako was still sitting in the living room. The Wilkinses were gone. She gave him a strange look, and he couldn’t blame her. It had been kind of a strange night, even though he couldn’t remember most of it. He did remember enough to know that he’d been acting like a terror all night. He shuffled his feet awkwardly and apologized.

“Hey, can I go hang out at the Wilkinses tonight?” He asked.

“I…sure. I mean, why are you asking permission?”

“I don’t know, I just feel like I should.”

“Well, fine. I’ll leave the door unlocked.”

“Thanks, Miss Berkovich!” Nick beamed, making for the door.

Mako was somehow able to get over the shock of Nick addressing her so formally, and by her maiden name, no less. But as she watched him go, confused as to why he looked so much smaller and skinnier than usual, she felt, somewhere deep down, that he wouldn’t be coming back home that night.

The night was cool for late August, and Nick felt surprisingly exposed. Wasn’t this his neighborhood, that he’d lived in for years? And wasn’t it in a good part of town? But his body felt smaller, thinner, and all around more vulnerable. A chill around his toes told him that he should have worn gym shoes tonight, anything but these thin sandals…but wait, since when was he wearing sandals? He looked down only to see what was left of his old shoes disappearing into the darkness and leaving his bare feet exposed, now with freshly painted pink toenails. He rubbed his eyes, looked again, and wondered what was wrong. His feet had always looked like that.

He knocked on the front door, and Mr. Wilkins answered. “Nick, hi! Come on in!” The older man looked a little confused at Nick’s presence, but soon shook his head and seemed to get over it. “If you’re here to see our daughter, she’ll be home soon.”

The Wilkinses had a daughter? Nick didn’t remember that. But he decided it must have just slipped his mind and walked in. The house felt surprisingly welcoming for somewhere he’d only been a few times. He saw Mrs. Wilkins cooking spaghetti and meatballs in the kitchen. She gave him a wave.

Harry noticed a small purple purse sitting on one of the dining room chairs. It looked familiar. He picked it up and slung it around his shoulder. It felt comfortable, like he’d been doing it for years. “Hey, uh, Mo—I mean, Mrs. Wilkins, you don’t mind if I go upstairs, do you?”

“Um…of course not, honey. Go right ahead.”

Nick smiled and took the purse with him.

As he went up the stairs he decided to listen to some music. He didn’t have anything in mind, so he just took out his phone and put on Spotify. To his surprise, he already had a few stations saved, one of which looked very Taylor Swift-centric. He frowned. Did he really like that stuff? When did that happen? Yet, he turned it on, and after a few verses he was already bobbing his head to the beat and singing the songs like he’d been doing it his entire life.

When he got to the upstairs hallway, he noticed something strange. Out of the corner of his eye, a door seemed to be forming out of the solid wall. But when he looked again, it looked like a door had always been there, and nothing was out of the ordinary. It looked like something he had seen recently, but he could not put his finger on it. When he looked at the door, he felt a feeling of safety and security rise inside him, and decided it was safe to open it and see what was inside.

What he saw was a room decked out with a bunch of familiar decorations and furniture. He didn’t know exactly where he’d seen these things, but they were so familiar, so dear to his heart, that the sudden rush of recognition was almost painful. A beeping message caused Nick to look down at his phone. He saw a long list of unread messages, from girls and guys alike about his age (which was…13? 14? His mind was getting foggy). He didn’t recognize them at first but after looking at each one memories of friends and classmates began flooding back. Nick began to feel weak in the knees. He clutched his head as his body and clothing finished their final changes; his boxers finished their conversion to a pair of silk panties, and a sturdy-yet-smooth bra formed out of nowhere to hold up his small but growing chest. His hair, which had been getting longer and blonder all night, flew outwards from his head before tying itself up in a complicated ponytail. His fingernails became long and pink to match his toenails.

He collapsed on the bed in a fit of exhaustion and confusion. He couldn’t remember how long he lay there, but was awoken by a voice.

“Nikki! Nikki, are you up there? You’re going to miss dinner, sleepyhead!”

Nikki sprung up. Oh, right, dinner! And Mom’s spaghetti was one of her favorites! Why had she dozed off all of a sudden anyway? She didn’t even have cheerleading camp yesterday or anything. “Coming!” She called, grabbing her phone before exiting her room.

Mom and Dad were already at the table. Dad gestured to a fully prepared plate next to him and motioned for her to sit down. “Sorry,” she said.

“Don’t worry, sweetie, it’s alright,” Mom said. “The first day of school is tomorrow, after all; I’m sure you’re nervous.”

Oh, right! That was tomorrow! But Nikki wasn’t nervous. Why would she be? She had an army of friends ready to help her take on middle school for the first time, she had Mom and Dad behind her all the way, she had done all the summer work and bought all her books; what was there to be nervous about?

“I’m sure it will be fine,” she said with a giggle, as she prepared to dig in.