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This is not the most original story ever, I admit that freely, but let me know what you think, if you like or don't like, whatever...If you think this is worthy of archiving please go ahead, but let me know first. ================================================== Unreal by Alan Bittig What the hell has happened to my life? This morning everything was normal, everything was fine. Now everything is turned upside down and twisted into ten-thousand different variations. I'm confused and lost, not to mention guilty and depressed. I've accidently killed over a million people today, well, not killed, more like removed from reality. I can't stand my own mind, I hate my body, nothing will ever be the same. The worst part is, I can't really blame it on anyone but myself. I did this, I am responsible, and I'm sure that when I die I will pay. This morning started like any other morning. I woke up a little after five to make my step-father breakfast and walk the dog. It was a typical, pale yellow morning. The dew soaked grass gleamed in the distant light and the brown mountains were capped with white mist. It was chilly, but not too windy, and I felt like I had just been pulled from the burning ruble of some damaged building. I did my chores and went back to bed, five is much too early for a night owl like me to get up. At noon I woke up for the second time, the difference being that I felt ready to face the day. I quickly showered and made my breakfast, then I called my girlfriend. "Oh my god," she said when I called, "you have to get over here now, Alan." "Why?" I asked. I was still in that state of tepid relaxation that follows a night of broken sleep. "I think I have the solution to your problem," she answered, her voice full of excitement. "What problem? I didn't know I had a problem." "The problem of you not being sure you have enough money for college, stupid." "Oh, yeah, what? Are your parents gonna break into their enormous wealth and spread some of it my way?" I was kidding, of course. I'm not a beggar and her parents would not have given me any money. "No! Just come over, you'll see." "Kay, just let me get dressed." "Good, I'll see you in twenty minutes. You know where I live, right?" What the hell was she asking me that for, I wondered, I went over to her house everyday. "Of course I do." "Good, see you then." She hung up. * * * Exactly twenty minutes later I was standing on her front doorstep, staring, as always, at the city in the valley below. I had always dreamed of having a house like hers, with an amazing view and twenty rooms, but I had always lived in a trailer in the flood plain. From her house the people looked like ants, from my house you could see millions of real ants, most of them crawling across our garbage and invading our home. Her mother answered the door and directed me to her room. "Tell Amy," the woman said as I mounted the stairs, "that her father wants her to pick up her room a little bit before the cleaning service comes." "Kay," I answered, before ducking into the room. Amy was sitting on her bed, listening to music and playing with her clarinet. "Alan," she shouted with joy, "have I got the best news for you." She ran up and hugged me, wrapping her thin, well tanned arms around my body. I kissed her on the cheek and sat down. "So what's your plan?" I asked. "This," she said, holding up a small golden necklace. "Your gonna give it to me so I can pawn it, right?" I asked sarcastically. "You know I don't accept you charity. You paying for dinner every time we go out is embarrassing enough." "No, stupid, you're not going to want to pawn it." She casually brushed her chin length brown hair out of her eyes. "I got this this morning from some old bag at the street fair." "How much you pay for it?" "Ten dollars." "Why?" "She told me it could alter reality." "Yeah Amy," I said, my voice cracking to conceal my laughter, "sure it does." "No, no, it does," she said, "I know, it changes the past to make any wish you have true." "Right. And does it call up a little green man in a U.F.O. to grant the wishes?" "No, you just wish." "Oh, okay," I broke out into a fit of laughter, thinking she was kidding. "Anyway," she continued, ignoring my disbelief, "she said that there were only three little conditions to each alteration." "And what, pray tell, would those be," I said, the smile on my face starting to disappear. I was frightened that she had been brainwashed by a cult of something. Her behavior was too weird. "Well, first, if you alter something out of existence on accident or on purpose, you can't bring it back, or if you change something you can't return it to the way it was before." "Uh-huh, sounds reasonable I guess." "The second one was that anyone who was around when something was altered remembers the world before and after the things change." "M'kay." I was becoming more frightened with each word. The way she spoke was amazing, like she believed it completely. Had she gone insane? Perhaps there was some kind of chemical on the book that caused hallucinations. "And the third one was that for each thing you change, something else changes to compensate." "Ohhh, and you believe this crap." "Of course." "Why?" I shouted, then, controlling myself, continued, "what makes you think this crap works?" "Because I've used it." "What?!" "You know how rich my family is." "Yeah." "Well, this morning we were as poor as you guys." "Then I could make my family rich," I said sarcastically. "Yep." "Let me see that thing." She handed me the necklace. I clenched it tightly in my palm and whispered, "make my family rich," then I proceeded to make strange, gurgling noises and play as if I had been possessed by a demon. "This thing's a bunch of crap," I said, "I don't feel any richer." "You don't?" "No!" "Then if you don't believe me maybe you should look in the mirror!" I did, and after a second of disorientation I stepped back in shock. I hadn't changed, but my clothes had. I was wearing a Polo-shirt instead of the thread-bare black tee that had covered my chest. Looking down I noticed I had on a stylish pair of Dockers, not torn and faded jeans. My shoes were brand new and name brand. I was certainly dressed like I was rich. "My god!" I shouted, "this thing does work!" "I told you it did." "Look," I said, "I've gotta go home and see what else has changed, will you come with?" "Of course." * * * We got into my car, which had not changed much, after all, even rich kids drive old clackers, and we drove down to where my home had been that morning. It was gone, and in its place was a convenience store. I admit that at that point I was riding a euphoric high, almost glowing with pure happiness. My face was contorted into a permanent grin and I couldn't stop singing along to my car radio. I was rich, I was going to school without all the loans, I was financially secure at the age of eighteen. It was perfect. "You must live somewhere else now," Amy said. "I know we didn't used to live all the way on top of the hill." "How'dya find your home then." "I went to the street fair with my mother." "Oh." I scratched my head, unsure of what to do next. Slowly, I got out of the car, inspecting the marque on the store. It read 'Gibson Mart.' "Hey," I shouted to Amy, "my parents must own this place." "Cool!" She stepped out of the car and into the sun-drenched parking lot. The sun shimmered through her hair and I was momentarily taken aback by how stunning she looked, how perfectly the tone of her well tanned skin matched her deep brown eyes. "God!" I said, "You were always pretty but now your beautiful." "Huh?" "You look about twice as good as you did this morning." "Well it must be the reciprocal from your wish," she said, "I noticed when you came over this morning you looked alot nicer too." "So wishing for riches made our love intrestes more attactive?" I asked. "Uh-huh," she said. "That's weird, I thought that the reciproracal would be something bad." "Guess not." She walked towards me and grabbed my hand. "Come'on, we have to find out where you live." "Oh yeah. But how? I can't go around asking people where my house is." "Just look it up in the phone book." That made sense, and I felt like an idiot for not thinking of it myself. "Good idea," I told her, and then walked to the big blue booth. "232 Haverland," I said, "You know where that is?" "Yeah, it's about two blocks from my new house." "Then let's get the hell outta here." We stepped back into my car and started to pull out. I stopped the car suddenly to take a final look at my old neighborhood. A chance to say goodbye to a living hell that was no longer mine. The old man who lived next door to me, well, who lived next door to the gas station stepped out of his front door and started shaking his hand at me. Amy started laughing. "What's so funny," I asked her. "That fool doesn't even know you anymore and he's still yelling at you," she said, smiling. "Oh yeah, well, the guy's just an old goat sticking his nose where it doesn't..." I stopped, realizing that I was still holding the necklace. Amy looked down and then, her eyes glazing over with fear, looked back up. The old man was gone, and in his place was a dusty, flea-infested goat, its mouth ripping through a black garbage bag. "Shit," she said, "you've gotta be more carefull what you say when you're wearing that thing." "I know, I feel really bad now." "Take it off, and then let's get outta here." "Okay," I said, and dropping the jewelry into my ashtray I shot out of the parking lot, leaving my old driveway for the last time. I was frightened and disturbed. I had just turned some inocent old man into a goat. What the hell had I done that for? I turned off the radio and we sat in silence, navigating the roads to my new home. Inside my stomach was knotting and my head was throbbing. I felt that bad. * * * The house was not a disapointment. If possible, it was bigger and nicer than Amy's palatial mansion. We walked through the front door and entered the hallway. I was shocked. This was the home of my family, so where were the tacky pieces of cheap deco art, where were the filthy dishes and the piles of trash. The structure was clean and tastefully decorated. I smiled. "There you are Alan," said my mother, "I've been looking for you." "Why aren't you at work?" I asked her. "Work?" she said, "where do I work at?" "Oh yeah," I said, suddenly realizing that my mother no longer needed her job at the super-market. And anyway, what rich old bag works at a super-market. "Where's my brother." "Who?" asked my mother. "Chris," I answered, suddenly fearing that I had wished him out of existance. "You mean your sister." I don't know what my face looked like but Amy's coated over with an amazing image of shock. "Uh-yeah," I said. "You're acting really weird," said my mother, her face contorting into an angry mask, "have you been drinking?" "Umm, no, I'm just messing around." "Okay, well, don't go anywhere for a few hours, okay." "Yeah, sure, I'll be in my room," and with those words I sped up the stairs, picking a door at random, hoping it would be my room. A very feminine sixteen year old girl looked up at me. "What do you want, Alan," she said. "No...Nothing," I muttered, and walked back into the hallway. The next door turned out to be my room. It hadn't changed much. My possessions were newer and in better repair, but aside from that everything was the same. I walked to the desk that decorated my far corner and opened it, hoping to find my family photo album. It was still there. Amy walked into the room and sat on my bed. "Look at this," I shrieked, "look at this." "Look at what," she said, her face drained of blood and her mouth hanging open. "This," I said, and held up a photograph of my family, with my mother and father standing behing me and a smiling, blond haired girl. "I've turned Chris into my sister!" "I heard," she said, "and I see." "What the hell am I going to do." I started crying, unable to control myself. The guilt was growing, I felt like a demon. "Don't worry about it," Amy said, "she doesn't remember being a boy." "What!" "She's probably happier as a rich girl than she was as a trailer brat." "Shut up, leave me alone for a minute, I need to sort this crap out and get a hold on everything that's changed." "Okay," she said, "I'll walk back to my house." "Kay, I'll call you in an hour." I thumbed through the book, randomly looking at photographs, seeing myself at places I had never been. There was a picture of me and Chris in front of the eiffle tower, and another one of me standing on the steps of the capitol building. I had been many places, but sadly I remembered none of them. After what seemed like hours but was probably only ten minutes I put the book back on my desk, and taking another look at my room, walked back into the hallway. What now? I wondered. "Hey Alan," shouted someone, "can I get your advice on something." I turned around to see Chris sticking her head out of her bedroom door. "Ummm...Yeah," I said, "hang on a minute." I walked back into my bedroom then collapsed to the floor. I had thought that I was ready to face her, but the sight of my brother, standing in the hallway wearing a dress and looking so increadibly feminine was too much for mind to handle. Taking deep, long breaths I stood up and walked back into the hallway. I put on my best game face and looked deep into chris's eyes. Her soul, I'm sure, was not changed. "Whaddya need?" I asked her. "Do you think this lip stick is too bright?" God, what a terrible question. I could feel my heart fall into my stomach and I could hear the springs of my psyche stretch nearly to the point of snapping. "It's...It looks fine," I managed to say, holding the smile on my face. "Thanks." "Welcome." What now. I walked downstairs, taking in the multi-colored facets of the house and gaping at the splendid art on the wall. It was so different from my previous white- trash existance. I make my way into the living room, and come across a large, deep brown piano. I had always dreamed of owning a piano, one of those stupid, little desires that hides inside the mind. I ran my fingers across the ivory keys, listening to the tone. I could hear myself wishing I knew how to play it. Wait, I thought. Why not? How much evil could come from learning to play the piano. I ran outside, across our wide, green lawn, and into the carport. Opening my door I pulled the necklace from the ashtray and tightly held it in my hand. I paused for a moment, weighing the consequences. What could go bad? And, I wondered, had anything bad really happened to this point anyway. Sure, my brother had become a girl, but she seemed happy with the situation. "I wish I had mad musical talent," I muttered, "and could play the piano." "Making another wish?" I heard a voice say. It was Amy. "Uh-huh," I answered, "just a stupid one." "I think it's kind of a cool wish," she said with a smile, putting her hand on my shoulder. "Who cares what you think," I said, "and anyway, where the hell did you come from." "I forgot my purse in your car, I was just coming back to get it." She reached through the open window and pulled out the small, leather bag. "How's your broth..sister?" "Well, that's kind of a hard question to answer. She seems happy enough." "How are you taking it." "Well, I was thinking about it just now and it seems to me that if she doesn't mind, and anyway, how could she mind since she doesn't remember, if that's all true than what the hell does it matter. It's a small price to pay for being rich." "Wow! I didn't realize you were so materialistic." "I'm not, but still, it's like I've lived in poverty all my life, so what does something like that matter is the burder is eased on everyone?" "Uh-huh," she said, "I see what your saying." We sat down in the grass. I pulled a small dandelion from the lawn and started pulling it apart. Over our heads the sun passed quickly beneath a thick, white cloud and a small shadow covered us. The valley below was still bathing in the bright sunlight, and everything shone in brilliant shades of yellow, green, black, and gold. Pale twinkles of white reflected from every facet. The air was clean and the wind was slow and mild. I started to feel good. "Well," said Amy, her voice friendly and calm, "since you can play the piano let's go in and do a duet." "Kay," I said. We walked through my front door, and I was again shocked at the subtle yet elegant styling of my home. Very tasteful, very nice. Our feet rapping against the tiled floor of the atrium we quickly covered the distance to the piano. I sat down and, without really thinking, played a stunningly accurate rendition of the Ninth Symphony. I was pleased with myself. "Now it's my turn," said Amy. I got up and she took my seat. She sat there for several minutes, staring at the keys, occasionally taping on or two. A look of frustration and anxiety slowly faded onto her face. Finally she stood. "I don't know why," she said, "but it's like I've never played a piano in my life!" "Shit Amy," I said, "it must be my fault." "Yeah," she replied, "I think it is your fault." "I'm sorry." "Uh-huh." She did not sound convinced. "No, I really am sorry, I mean, I didn't know that this is what would happen." "Sure you didn't. I mean," her face cleared and her voice was lighter, "how could you know. It was just a stupid wish." "Yeah, see." "I guess don't worry about it." "Kay." She stood up and wiped the sweat from her forhead. "You didn't mean to do it I guess." She no longer looked as angry, "but I have to get you back somehow, let me see that thing." I gave it to her. "I wish I had all of your artistic talent, you know, those drawings and stuff." Damn, that pissed me off, but she had a right to do it. I simply stood there, shocked and irate, but otherwise fine. "Feel betten now?" I asked. "In fact I do." "Good." "Let's go back outside, kay." "Yeah, I guess." We walked out the door, passing my silent mother. I was again amazed at the fact that she looked years younger. For some reason the rich don't age as fast as the poor. Outside was nice, we sat in the grass and hugged, each of us wishing we had our old talent back but also secretly delighted in our new one. That moment was perfect, so bright, so alive. The mountains of western Montana shimmered in the distance and from our airy perch on the hill we could hear the faint cough of engines in the valley bellow. I hugged Amy tightly, feeling better and better with each passing second. Inside, the telephone rang. I ignored it, breathing deeply and enjoying the sun of late summer. Everywhere there was peace. Then my mother walked out the door, her face bearing a look of shock and pain. She was crying. I jumped up, almost stepping on Amy, and ran up to my mother. "What's wrong mom?" I asked, worried. "My brother," she muttered, "he's dead." "What! You mean uncle Joe." "Uh-huh." "What happened to him." "He was down in Yellowstone City and wham, he was killed in a mugging." "Oh my god!" It was too much. Was this a reciporacal of one of my wishes or was it dumb luck? I needed to know. I ran to Amy, who had her head down between her knees. "I'm sorry Alan," she said. "Yeah," I replied, "well don't be yet, let me see that necklace." "Oh, good idea!" She handed it to me. "I wish that Uncle Joe hadn't been killed," I whispered, and I shoved the thing in my pocket. My mother was no longer crying, instead, she had a look of contentment on her face. "How's your brother?" I asked her nervously, trying hard to sound both unconcerned and yet at the same time worrying that if my wish did not work it would be an awful question. "Oh," said my mother, "he's having fun down there in Yellowstone Park." Park? Park! Amy heard it to and was standing next to me in less than a second. "Do you have a map Mrs. Devins," Amy asked. "Whose Mrs. Devins," my mother said. Shit, of course, my step- father. In this reality she had never divorced my father. "She meant Mrs. Kupoch mom," I said. "Yeah," added Amy, confused, "I don't know what was going through my mind, but do you have an atlas or something." "Uh-huh, it's on the seat of my car." "Kay." We took off in a dead sprint, racing towards the Lexus in the driveway. There, on the seat, was a map of the US. I opened it, turning towards Wyoming. "Oh my god, what have I done," I shrieked, "it's not there." "You're kidding, right," said Amy. "No, Yellowstone City, population two million, no longer exists. The capital of Wyoming has just disapeared." "Shit!" She was in shock. "In it's place is some stupid national park." "Shit!" "I don't want to say it," I whispered, "but I think I just killed two million people." "Oh my God, Alan. Oh my God." We wrapped our arms around each other and fell to the ground, each of us silently saying a prayer for the victems of my insane wish. Nothing would ever be the same. I cried. "Oh my God," I shrieked, "what the hell have I done!" "You didn't know," said Amy, holding my hand. "I just killed two or three million people," I shrieked. "Not really, you just wished thier city out of existance, maybe they went somewhere else. Here, look at the map." "Kay," the tears where still running down my chin, I felt so increadibly guilty. "See," she whispered comfortingly into my ear, here's some place called 'Denver', who ever heard of a city called 'Denver.' "Uh-huh," I muttered, "Okay." I was feeling a little better. I hadn't killed these people, simply moved them to another location. "See, your okay now, right." "Yeah." "Let's go back inside, you can mess around on that piano for me and I'll draw a picture of you." "Kay." We stood up and walked back into the house, passing my mother who was sprawled out on the porch with a glass of wine in her hand. I felt a tinge of regret. Somethings never change. I could make my family rich and bring back my father, sure, but that didn't take my mother of the alcahol. The specifics had changed, wine in in a glass instead of beer in can, but the end results were the same. It was three in the afternoon and she was already plastered. I stopped to look at her. "Whaddya want dear," she muttered. "Well...I really wish you wouldn't drink so much," I said quietly, make sure she did not hear me. Wham, it was done. The glass did not disappear, but somehow, in the span of an infinitesimally small amount of time, the wine became Coke. I laughed. "What the hell," my mother said. "Huh?" "All of the sudden I feel a lot better." "What's been wrong with you?" "I don't know, but whatever it was, it's fixed now." I walked into the house smiling, leaving my mother sitting in a chair, her face covered with an expression of confusion and relief. Things were beginning to look up. We sat on the tiled floor of the living room, letting our bare feet warm the cold ceramic. The pale yellow leaves of a shrubby tree brushed against the window, throwing interesting, ovaline shadows through the light, airy curtains. I hugged her, she hugged me. Everything was perfect, everthing was exactly how it was meant to be. Somewhere in the massive white house a stereo began playing, soft old music. I stood up and extended my hand to Amy. "Would you dance with me?" I asked her. "Niether one of us knows how to dance." "Then I wish we were both beautiful dancers, and while we're at it, I wish we were both beautiful people." I gasped. Amy, always attractive, always warm, seemed to take on a lovely glow. Her light brown hair darkened a shade and deepened. Her figure slowly melted out each tiny imperfection until I was standing in front of a beautiful person, a lady. She was not a common street walker, she was not attractive in that cheap way. She was elegant and calm. "You are the epitome of everything perfect," I whispered into her ear as we began dancing. She blushed, and when she did I remembered my English teacher's explication of the poem, 'My Last Duchess.' "When," he had asked, "is a woman most beautiful." "After sex." had been my asinine reply. "No," he said, "when she blushes." I remember giggling. Not believing, but now, as Amy face turned a subtle shade of red to match her lips, I agreed. She was more beautiful now than ever before. The blush died but the love I felt did not. We swung and glided across the floor, basking in each others warmth. The music could not have been more perfect, and the moment could not have been more beautiful. For the rest of my life I will remember it as the pinnacle of my life. The bench mark, the highest point. The place, if you will indulge me, where everything started to slide back down. A car pulled up in the driveway. Out of it stepped Amy's mother and father. She glanced out the window, a stray hair trailing ever so gently down her cheek. "Man, I can't believe that they're here now," she muttered, "they always break in on us like this." "I know," I said, "I wish they'd just go away..." I stopped, realizing my mistake. Amy glared at me and returned her sight to the window, her mouth dropped and her eyes flew shut. A terrible shriek came from her lips. What I had done was clear. On the part of our lawn where seconds ago her parents had stood were two large Canadian geese. "Oh my god, Amy," I muttered, "I'm so increadibly sorry." "Your sorry," her voice was full of sarcasm, "I can't believe I gave you that thing in the first place. You've trashed my life, you've made your brother a girl, and you turned some guy into a goddamn goat. What the hell is wrong with you!!!" Her eyes were streaming with tears. She was right, everything I had wished for so far had resulted in terrible consequences. I could not look her in the eye. I turned my face down and traced the dark grey contours of the living room carpet. "Give that thing to me," she shrieked. Reaching forward she ripped the necklace out of my hand, scratching my finger in the process. I was feeling bad, worse than I had ever remembered feeling. "God I wish I wasn't your girlfriend," she whispered. "I wish that you and I had never been romantically linked." "A...a good wish," I wimpered, unable to feel self-righteous. "Yeah, well, it was the only way to make sure I would never have to see your stupid goddamn face again." She was serious, I could hear the hatred in her voice. She would have continued but at that moment my mother walked into the room, leading a tall, well dressed man with white hair. "Alan, Amy," she stated, "this is Harrison, a business ascosciate of your fathers." "Hello," I said, my tone still dejected and my attitude still withdrawn. "Harrison," my mother continued, "these are my two eldest children, Alan and Amy." "Good to meet you kids," he said while sticking out his hand. I was too shocked to say anything, let alone shake his hand. I ran from the room, and as I left I heard Amy slam out the other door. Things had gotten too weird at this point, and I was getting sick. * * * I wandered alone for a few hours, walking the streets of my hometown, trying to figure out where everything had gone wrong. Was it the greed, the pride, or the lust? What I mean is, was it my desire to be rich that had clouded my vision? If not was it the amazing sense of power I felt when holding the pendent, or was it perhaps my desire to have Amy at all times? Possibly it was all three of them, and what had come of it? I was no just another despondent, lonely rich kid with a beautiful sister. The thought made me sick, and I swore I would never touch Amy again. I crossed the bridge, contemplating for a brief moment jumping. I decided against it in the end. Suicide is a mortal sin, and what would happen to my mother. I continued forward, not looking back. My eyes fixated on the giant peace sign painted on a white billboard that had been erected by some forgotten hippy years ago. Peace, what a wonderful, beautiful ideal. To bad, I thought, it is enternally unatainable. Eventually I came to a small coffee shop in the heart of the downtown. Pressing my way through the five o'clock crowds I entered. As expected my friend Tim was sitting in a booth, sandwitched on either side by an attractive young woman. Tim is probably the most zen person I know, the most together. He's also I've ever had, and for a moment I was afraid that the wish had destroyed the friendship. However, he waved me over. "Hey Alan," he said, "you look like shit." "Yeah, man," I muttered, "can I talk to you for a minute." "Absolutly," he turned to his girlfriends, "this is Alan, the only man I trust with my life." The girls giggled. "Give me a few minutes alone with him, would'ya." They left, leaving a tittalating trail of erotic perfume in thier wake. I sat down. "Now whaddya need?" he asked me, waving a fat cigar in my face. "I need to tell you a story you'll never believe." "Doubt it, remember, you're talking to the guy who practically invented the police- state conspiracy." "Oh crap, man, do you still believe that?" "More and more everyday." "Yeah, sometimes I see what you mean, but anyway..." "Anyway?" I told him my story. I could see in his eyes first disbelief, then, slowly, acceptance and concern. "Shit man," he said, "I can't say I believe you completly, but if you show me this thing works then maybe I can help you." "Sure," I said, "will you give me a ride home." "Yeah." By the time we made it back to my home the sun had already set and the sky was that dark, hellish purple that comes before total night. I walked slowly towards the door, noticing the lights were off. "I wonder what's wrong?" I said. "You think Amy got her revenge by killing your family?" asked Tim, "Shit, I can't believe I just said that, I can't believe that your trying to convince me that your sister used to be your girlfriend." He closed his eyes. "You two never...well?" "No, thank god." "Good." I opened the door to an empty and silent house. "Where is everyone," I shouted. "They went out to eat," came a voice from the balcony, Amy's voice. "Why didn't you go?" I asked. "Because I wanted to wait for you." "Why?" "Because I realized while you were gone that you didn't mean to change my parents into geese, but I also realized that somehow I was going to have to make sure that you never touch me again. I can't stand the sight of you, you're a thoughless, impulsive moron!" She started down the stairs. "Well, what are you gonna do?" "Easy, I need to be your sister because of that stupid wish, but damn if I want a brother." "Huh?" I didn't quite comprehend what she was saying. "I wish you were my extra special pretty sister. Have fun girly." She disapeared. I passed out. Somewhere in the haze I could hear Tim muttering "Oh my fucking god I don't believe it." No wonder he didn't, I thought as I felt my numb head hit the ground, I didn't believe it myself. "Alan..." spun the voice through the blackness, "Alan...are you there?" "Guhh," I stammered, "Yeah, I guess I am." Things clarified, folded back together, nothing hurt. Above my head I could see a glowing circle dancing against a white field. Am I dead, I wondered. My eyes pulled into focus. It was just a hanging light, throwing pale shadows against the walls, burning at a hundred watts. Tim was looking down at me. "How...how do you feel, Alan?" he asked. "I'm not sure yet, everything is numb." "Do you remember what happened?" "Uh-huh." "Well, that's good I guess, not as much of a shock." "Yeah, Tim?" "Huh?" "What do I look like now." "Like you did before, only a little different, you know, certain things. Your features are softer and your hair's a little bit longer, not much, maybe chin length." "Ugh. Do you believe me now?" "I guess, not really. I keep waiting for something to wake me up. Shit, Alan, how the hell do you feel, you must be freaked out of your mind." He was right, I should have been panicked, screaming, but for some reason I wasn't that worried. Another wish by Amy perhaps. I'm not sure. "Where did she go," I mumbled. "Somewhere upstairs," he replied. "Help me stand up." "Kay." I lifted my arm and he hoisted me into a standing position. I was racked with a brief period of nausea, but quickly regained my balance. "Let's go talk to her," I said. "Are you sure that's a good idea, she still has that thing and all." "She won't use it on you." I pause, by all rights I should have had a medley of bizarre sensations, but for some reason everything felt right. I blinked my eyes twice and started stumbling up the stairs. Tim followed hesitantly. The top floor was dark, but I could hear breathing coming from an open door. I nervously walked towards the sound, hearing my feet creak against the hardwood floors. "Amy?" I muttered. "Amy, are you here?" "Yes," came a cold and removed voice. "I'm here." "Amy, I'm sorry." I could not see her, I was speaking into the darkness. A hand fell on my shoulder. "Whaa?!" I said with a jump. It was only Tim. "How do you feel Alan," came Amy's sterile, hellish voice. "Not bad," I replied, "I mean, what the hell, why do I feel so normal." "Ohh, I don't know, maybe I had a little pity and wished that you would be able to function normally for about ten more minutes." The light came on, temporarily blinding me, "I did that because I still love you a little bit Alan," she continued, "not much, and the hate is like twice as much as the love, but I didn't want to see you go through all the mental anguish that's gonna come by the middle of next week." "Are you leaving?" "Hell yes, what? Did you think I'd stay around here and look at all this shit that reminds me of what life used to be like." "Umm, no, I guess not." "Good, I'm leaving in a minute." She turned her back to me and silently stared out the window. I could hear her crying lightly. "Dude," whispered Tim, "is that the necklace on her dresser?" "Uh-huh," I whispered back. "I think I can get it, man." "Don't risk it," I mumbled, confused by my lack of terror and disgust. He ignored me and flung his weight into the room, diving for that hellish piece of jewelry. "Holy shit!" exclaimed Amy, who turned around in time to see Tim pick up the golden string of metal. "I wish Alan was back to himself," shouted Tim, nothing happened. "You idiot," laughed Amy, "the thing can't change what's already happened." "Shit, damn. I can't help you man." He closed his eyes. Suddenly, a smile came over his face. "You gotta be next to the thing to remember what things were like before, right?" he asked me. "Yeah." "Then I wish Amy was downstairs." It was done. No smoke, no mirrors, nothing special. She just vanished. "And I wish that she forgets this day completely and thinks that she's just a member of Alan's family." "Nice wish for her," I said, "at least she gets to be kinda happy now." "Yeah," laughed Tim, "You want me to do the same thing for you?" "No!" I could feel my palms sweating and the clothing I was wearing start to rub against my skin. My grace period of normalcy was ending. I started to shake, my hands and legs moving independently from my mind. "Oh my god!" I cried. "I can't believe this." "Starting to feel the changes now," asked Tim worriedly. "Yeah-huh," I replied. "You want me here or you wanna go through this alone?" "Fuck, man," I shouted. "I don't want anybody to see me like this, get the hell out of here now, go talk to Amy or something. Go talk to the bitch!" He walked off and I continued to stand silently in the hallway, trying my best to remain at least slightly composed. Over the sound of my heavy breathing and pounding heart I could hear him climb the stairs and invite Amy to come outside with him. In another minute the door slammed shut. I screamed. "Oh god, oh god, oh god!" I mumbled, "what the hell is happening." I knew the answer of course, but my mind would not let me deal with it. I ran down the corridor, bumping into walls and feeling the insanely uncomfortable motion of certain improper, exterior appendages. I felt all screwed up, like I had been taken apart and reassembled into another person. It was not the most pleasant feeling of my life. In fact, let's be honest, it stank. I sat silently in my bedroom for hours, crying and beating against the walls. Nothing was any good, how could I live like this? I shouted until my voice was hoarse and then began whimpering. At some point the ducts in my eyes stopped dripping water, but I continued to dry heave. My corneas became red and swollen, everything was a constant pain. I refused to look in a mirror. * * * So that's how it happened, that's how everything became great for every other person I know except me. That's how Tim got Amy, that's how my brother Chris, a demonic loser, joined the mainstream. That's how my family found it and joined together into a loving union. That's how everything turned to hell. * * * It is two days later now, I am searching another bright dawn for my place amongst the cosmos. Tim is standing silently nearby, looking into the pond with his hands shoved into his pockets and his hair blowing free. I look at the sky and I sigh. "Throw it in, man," I tell him. "Are you sure?" he asks. "You promised," I reply. "Your right," he said, "and I will, but your having such a goddamn hard time I thought that maybe you might like for me to wish for you to accept your fate." "No!" "Okay, well then, on the count of ten, stop me at any point." "Ten..." His offer sounds tempting, but I can't stand the thought of accepting this body. "Nine..." But what harm would it do. "Eight..." Being happy is better than the constant torture. "Seven..." What the hell am I saying, I don't want to be a woman. "Six...five...four..." But whether I like it or not I am. "Three..." I'm going to have to learn to live with it somehow. "Two..." I hate myself for what I'm about to do. "One..." "Okay," I shout, "Okay, but I don't want to forget my past, just wish it that I accept who I am, then throw it in the pond, okay?" "You got it, man. I wish Alan was in his room." Wham! The change in perspectives is amazing. One instant I am standing in front of pond, then everything just 'changes'. It takes an incredibly short span of time. I sit down on the chair, completely disoriented. Everything's going to be okay, I realize. I think I might even like being female. My mind is confused for a couple of minutes but then I move on. I'm okay, and that is what really matters. -Alan Bittig e-mail: [email protected]