I pulled the curtain shut and climbed into my bed. I looked around my small, boxed up apartment. It was my last night in London. Soon I would be in Los Angeles. I was going to be a real journalist. No longer would i write for our small town joke of a newspaper. i was going to write about real world problems; like war, hunger, and abuse. I would hate leaving all of my family and friends but i would regret not taking the chance and going to L.A. for my big shot.
I turned the light off and closed my eyes. I realised that i was happy. Really happy.
All you need is 20 seconds of insane courage, and I promise you something great will come of it.
My daughter closed the curtain. She had insisted on driving me home after my doctors appointment, and somehow that translated to putting me to bed. I was tightly tucked in underneath my wife's favourite floral duvet, as Sheryl darted around to each window, making sure I slept in complete darkness.
I knew she was upset. I knew she was disappointed. Although nothing she can say or do will possibly change my mind. I will not receive treatment for my cancer. I turned down the cure for a reason.
I miss my wife. It has been ten years since she passed, and every day since has been a battle. If she won't come back to me, I'll have to go to her.
Rose, baby, I'm coming. I'll be sitting on a cloud in heaven with you in a matter of weeks. Once I say my final goodbyes, I'll be ready.
I looked at myself in the mirror, smiling as the head lolled to one side, scattering a wave of brown hair across my cheek. What a party! Tugging at a make-up wipe with poorly co-ordinated fingers, I tried to think clearly. I began to wipe away the thin layer of foundation, lipstick, eye shadow and mascara.
With my face clean, I decided it was time to deal with the outfit. I pulled the top and skirt off, laying both on the chair as neatly as I was able in my current state. Then I slipped a night dress over my head and climbed into the soft double bed.
The curtains were open. As hard as I tried I couldn't ignore the moon-light streaming across my bedroom so I stumbled out and pulled the two pieces of fabric together.
I returned to my bed and drifted into a deep sleep.
Kendal pulled her truck to a stop in front of her small house out in the middle of no where. She walked inside, her dad was sitting on the couch sipping a beer.
"Where were you?" He asked like he always did.
"Hanging out with the guys, Bobby's dad said y'all need to talk about something." She said walking to her room. He just nodded watching the TV. She walked back to her room and looked in the mirror. Her hair was pulled back into a pony tail and she just had a small cut over her eye from getting in the fight with that stupid prep. Kendal didn't even know why the girl had attacked her, but she wasn't just going to stand by and get beat up. She wiped the cut off with hot watter then jumped into bed pulling the covers over her head. Her window was open and the cool night air slowly put her to sleep along with the sound of the crickets.
I sat in the book store, looking out the window at the playground across the street. I was bored out of my mind. I wished I was older...I was so sick of being treated like a kid.
This angry thought had exploded from my parents, who were complaining about how annoying I was...gawd! I just wanted to grow up and leave!!!
I woke up and glanced across at the clock that flashed 8:00 AM. Seriously? I groaned and pushed the covers back. Great, I'm not only going to be late to work but the reason is going to be pretty obvious. Where are the pain killers when you need them? Kitchen.
Putting my feet on the floor, I wondered why my alarm hadn't woken me. Then I froze. Wasn't my clock blue? I turned and stared at the black clock and the flashing red numbers. For that matter, didn't I have a lamp on that table and wasn't that table smaller and made of pine? Black. Nearly every item in the room was black.
I jumped out of bed, opened the curtains and stared at the unfamiliar bedroom.
'Relax, relax,' I thought. 'It's okay. You slept at a friends, remember?' But of course I didn't remember and I had a dreadful notion that I had not been sleeping in pyjamas and come to think of it, my body felt strange. Very strange. For a start... I pulled my trousers down and screamed.
Kendal pulled the covers over her head when she heard an alarm go off. She didn't own one but her dad was always setting the fire alarm off.
"DAD!!!! TURN IT OFF!" She screamed pulling the pillow over her head. She froze, a PINK pillow. Sitting up straight she stared at the PINK pillow. She HATED pink, she looked around the room. Everything was pink, the walls, the dresser, the covers, the lamp, the ALARM, the pillow. She screamed, someone was playing a really cruel joke. She walked to the dresser and looked in the mirror and screamed again. She had bloned hair, she looked like....like....like that prep from school. She was in her body. She slapped her face, she was asleep, she just needed to wake herself up. She hit her head on the wall, that hurt. She looked through the drawers to find something to wear, the pj's she was in were deffinatly not somethign she would wear. She found some jeans and tossed them aside, "To tight," She finnally found a pair that wasn't extermly tight, and then brown baby tee shirt. She had to figure out what was going on. No was was she going to stay in a preps body. She brushed her hair and pulled it back in a pony tail and then put mascara on. The prep didn't look to bad with out make up on. She smiled at the thought. If she was the only one that had changed bodies she could really ruin this girls life.
I slept well, and when I woke up I felt very refreshed -- better than I had in a long time. I pulled off the covers, noticing that they looked different. Was probably just my Alzheimers again...I looked down at my feet...pink nail polish on my toes? I couldn't even reach my toes anymore! And where were all my wrinkles?
It had to be a dream, it was the only explanation! I stood up, noticing my reflection in the mirror that hung on the door.
I looked like a teenager?!
------------------
Isabella~~
Yawning, I rolled over. Why the hell did my side hurt like that? Carefully, I turned my body and slid out of bed, my eyes still mostly shut. I opened them slowly.
Where was my room? Why was I in the odd smelling place, surrounded by books? Had I Fallen asleep in the upstairs rooms of the bookstore? (once had people living in them). Nah, there weren't any beds up there anymore.
I made my way to the bathroom (I ddin't realize it was a bathroom until I opened the door). Turning to the sink, I splashed my face a few times before looking in teh mirror.
This looks like FUN. I have a few questions for RoryLegend though, can I post them here or is there a discussion thread I missed somewhere?
Name: Keith
Real age: Unknown
Occupation: Unknown
Personality: Some might say mysterious, others might say he’s just a jerk. Keith keeps to himself, letting on very little about himself. His records are all suspiciously missing, it’s almost as suspicious as the way he avoids any and all contact with the authorities.
Swtiched into body of: Ronald Yeller
Ronald (now Keith’s) appearance: Ronald has a very angelic look to him, one that would win him lots of girls if he payed any attention to them. His hair soft and golden and his eyes are a breathtaking sky blue. He is about 5”9 and has a wiry frame which finally started to fill out after he graduated from highschool. Overall he could be described as handsome.
Name: Wanda Leproskawich
Real age: 17
Occupation: Student
Personality: As long as Wanda can remember, Margaret has always been with her. Homeschooled and raised in a violent neighborhood, it didn’t bother her that her best and only friend was a voice only she could hear…and it didn’t bother her mom she had an imaginary friend, since it kept her away from the troublesome kids on the streets. But Margaret didn’t go away, and now at 17 Wanda is on the verge of a breakdown. By nature she is carefree and adventurous, rarely heeding Marge’s advice…or at least she didn’t until it got her mother killed. Now she does whatever Marge tells her, and in recent years Margaret has become highly paranoid, angry and developed a habit of over-analyzing everything and everyone Wanda comes into contact with. As a result Wanda is outwardly jumpy and often seems confused. But inwardly at least Wanda retains her basic nature. She knows it’s all in her head, but isolation and an unshakable sense of responsibility make it impossible for her to let go of the only family she has.
Body (the one she switched into): Wanda’s new body is 5”4 and appears to. She has light brown skin and large almost black-brown eyes. Shoulder length thick black hair (dark brown under bright light) is tied back loosely by a yellow hair tie. By her guess she is of aboriginal descent.
I decided to divert for the basic two sides of the same story thing. =P It seems more fun to wonder what their bodies are doing while they’re running around trying to find them again.
I was cold. That was the first thing I noticed. And I thought I was dying. I remembered in all the old movies how dying characters would say "I feel so... cold...". I felt my heart race.
"This is it," I thought. "I'm dying! At last!"
But the cold lasted longer than I assumed death would. I could no longer feel my heavy doonah wrapped around me, and at first I assumed my body had gone numb.
But when I opened my eyes, I noticed that the blanket was gone entirely. In its place. staring me in the face, was a pair of breasts.
OOC
You mean Keith in Ronald's body or Ronald in his own body? =P Also, skipping the whole 'night before' to avoid me posting a zillion posts all at once.
OMG! When we say everyone has swtiched bodies, we mean everyone in the city, the world...?
IC
Keith didn't need to open his eyes to know he wasn't in his bed anymore. Something else was wrong...his body felt strange. He pretended to sleep for another minute, listening attentively for movement. Nothing; he was alone. His eyes opened carefully.
He saw he was in a bedroom, and he didn't have to hide the fact he'd have prefered it to be some gangster's basement. At least that he knew how to handle. Instead, he was faced with a boy's room, someone young. It only took a few seconds of looking around the room for him to figure out some key points about the room's owner: they were into gospel choirs, and were either in or looking into entering university.
"The hell!?" Keith jumped to his feet, suddenly completely disoriended. "My nose!"
A great sense of losss filled him as he raised fingers, ones he now recognized to be comeone else's, to his face and confirmed his worst fears: his nose was gone. He had someone else's nose, but his rougedly handsome hooked nose with it's battle scar was gone. So, aparently, was his deep gravelly voice. Outside the ebdroom door he heard and exclamation, he'd woken somebody up. Suddenly sleath didn't matter so much anymore; whoever had done this to him would pay for it.
*^*^
~You can't talk to anyone! They'll think you're crazy, lock you up. Just keep walking, we'll find home soon.~
Wanda stopped wandering towards the gas station and bit her lip...or rather...someone else's lips. She wasn't in her own body anymore, not since she'd woken up. She knew where she'd been last: fast asleep on Jordan's couch. He was her friend, he'd been there for her so long even Marge wasn't paranoid about him.
~There. Turn unto that street. We'll go up to one of the houses and ask to use a phone.~
"There was a phone at her house." Wanda pointed out, her voice completely alien to her.
~There were people there, her family. They would have locked us up.~
"Maybe." Wanda said as a form of agreement. She couldn't beleive how easy it was to accept she just up and walked off in another person's body, but it made sense; Marge had said they had to go, and Marge knew best.
Wanda turned unto the residential street and walked slowly along the sidewalk, looking from house to house for a sign of friendly inhabitants.
~You'll call Jordan and he'll pick us up. Then we can find your body and everything will be okay.~
Nothing's ever okay anymore, Wanda thought to herself, but she didn't choose to voice this opinion to Marge. She never did.
Kendal walked quickly towards the park where seh had told her buddies she was going to meet them. Thankfully she was still in her home town. She looked around, they weren't there yet. Man were they in for a surprise. Unless, unless they changed too. The thought scared her. She shivered looking down at her hands, a perfect manicure and fake fingernails. What was she supposed to do with those. Stupid things could cut her eyes out.
I turned over in my bed. I stretched my arm out and immediatly hit someone's shoulder. I pulled my arm back quickly. Suddenly I was overcomed with sickness. I needed to throw up, i needed a bathroom. I stood up and realized i was no longer in my empty apartment. I was in a bedroom, that appeared to be attchached to a very nice house. I began wlaking down the hall nad openeing doors forgetting all about whoever was in my bed, or was it my bed? I finally found a bathroom. I threw up in the toilet and then stood back up. I looked in the mirror and found that the face i was wearing wasn't mine. I couldn't scream i could barely move. I looked down at my hands, i was wearing a wedding ring, i turned them over. I walked back to the bedroom, which took me a few tries. The dark haired man in the bed was still alseep. I began examining myself. i was skinny, too skinny, except for my stomache stuck out slightly. I walked to the bedside table, everything was not setting in, everything seemed so wrong. There was a picture of my new face with the dark haired man, a wedding picture. Laying down next to that was a sonogram picture. It said "Baby Young" at the top. This body that i was in was.. pregnant? The dark haired man sat up and looked at me.
"Something is very wrong." I said blandly before passing out.
All you need is 20 seconds of insane courage, and I promise you something great will come of it.
There’s always a story. It’s all stories, really. The sun coming up every day is a story. Everything’s got a story in it. Change the story, change the world. — Terry Pratchett