Original Son

Chapter 3
Part 3

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Chapter Description: Losing the battle.

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Pastor Leary had been speaking for about ten minutes when it happened. After an extended meditation on Jesus’ first miracle at the wedding party he had asked the congregation to bow their heads in silent prayer, and only moments later a brilliant white light consumed the sanctuary. A frenzied murmur broke out. Everyone, including Matt, assumed it was a malfunction of some kind.

But then the deep voice bellowed, “Lift your eyes and look upon me.”

Though partially blinded by radiant glow emanating from the pulpit, Matt made out a long-haired figure, dressed in a tattered robe. As the light faded the image became clearer and the congregation was left staring at a bearded man who bore a remarkable resemblance to the stained glass window directly behind him.

”Do not be frightened. I bring you peace and happiness in the name of the Father.”

Many were confused, some awed, and others began to softly weep at the sight. Yet all remained quiet in anticipation.

”Now, it is time for you to join me,” the man announced, raising his hands dramatically above his head. As he lowered his right hand, a thin beam of light washed over the members of the congregation seated on the left. For a second it appeared as if they were disappearing, but soon it became apparent the worshippers had shrunk. Most of their heads barely rose above the backs of the pews.

”What happened to them?” Sharon said, a tremor evident in her voice.

”It looks like they’ve gotten smaller!” The man next to her pointed at the front row. “Or younger...”

Meanwhile Matt kept his focus on the robed man.

”My peace be upon you, children,” he said serenely as he gracefully lowered his other hand.

”No!!” Matt screamed out loud, watching the steady beam of light come over everyone seated on the right side of the sanctuary. He turned around and witnessed each successive row of worshippers sink down into their seats. Before he could scramble out of the way, he felt the light pass painlessly over him. Still hunched over the pew, Matt rocked back onto his knees, lifted his hands in front of his eyes and stared in horrible disbelief.

By now the entire row had been reduced to kids, none older than six or seven. Matt observed his own mother and father, buried in the cavernous folds of their Sunday clothing, trying to make sense of what was happening. The frantic conversations on both sides of the aisle now sounded like the excited chatter of an elementary school assembly.

Then the mysterious man, once again furled in a striking light, rose through the ceiling of the sanctuary and into the sky.

”The kingdom of heaven is come!”

Suddenly lightening shot forth from his arms and encircled the entire earth as though it were a mere play toy. People all around the world from India to Idaho gazed up at the strange electrical fireworks playing out above them.

Before long, high school science teachers and college professors lecturing about evolution discovered they could scarcely reach the chalkboard. Greedy Wall Street businessmen seated around tables in stuffy corporate board rooms were swiftly replaced with kindergartners wearing crinkly Armani suits. Sleazy strip joints were abruptly transformed into playgrounds with breastless six-year-old strippers clinging to poles like jungle gyms.

”My children,” the man thundered in a voice that rung out around the globe. “Go and sin no more!”

Covered in sweat, Matt punched the snooze button on the screaming alarm clock beside his bed. Every night the dreams grew more distressing and epic in scale. If this pattern kept up, soon Jesus would be zapping dogs and cats into puppies and kittens and turning oak trees back into seeds.

”Phew.”

Matt sat up in bed and flexed his shrinking biceps, a new habit formed over the course of the past week. Each new day held a small kernel of hope, the slim chance that whatever force was causing him to demature would magically cease. But Tuesday morning presented no such hope.

”Damn it,” he muttered, rolling his sleeves up past his elbow.

His forearms and wrists appeared downright bony. The plaid pants that hung precariously on his waist just the night before once again fell victim to gravity. Then came the dreaded peek downstairs, a tradition fast becoming Matt’s least favorite part of the day. Though little had changed since last Sunday, something for which Matt was extraordinarily grateful, Monday night had not been so kind.

The skimpy leftovers of his once-dense pubic hair had finally given way to the bald groin of a pre-pubescent and Matt did not appreciate the unobstructed view of his dick one bit. Cataloguing that day’s new information, he estimated the previous evening had demoted him to twelve. A piece of him seriously considered kneeling next to his bed, with hands clasped, to issue a prayer to God to stop whatever curse he or Satan or Krishna had placed on him. Then he decided. If imploring an imaginary invisible man in the sky was what it took to reverse the trend, so be it.

Collapsing onto the rug next to his bed, Matthew offered up a halfhearted prayer, his first since turning twelve six years ago. Ironically, he was right back where he started.

”Lord, if you’re out there, please - please make this stop,” he pleaded. “If this is punishment for something, I’m sorry. Just don’t make me any younger. I get the message. I don’t want to be a little kid again. Anything, anything but that...”

Matt instinctively glanced down at his dangling penis in the hopes that Jehovah might miraculously restore his true age instantly, but nothing changed. At that moment he might have pledged his undying surrender to the Judeo-Christian God in return for just three or four more years. Just enough to transport him back to the right side of puberty. Sixteen would make for a good compromise, he thought, placing him back in the middle of high school. Two more years of Youth Group, but at least he could drive. Hell, even fifteen would be tolerable, he bargained. He could still go out on dates, though they would most likely involve parental supervision and nothing even approaching first base.

”This is ridiculous,” he sighed. “I’m talking to myself.”

Matt was twelve. And no prayer, however fervent or sincere, would stop his voice from cracking as he uttered it.

***

Downstairs another surprise awaited him. Aunt Dawn and her husband Robbie were drinking tea in living room as Matt walked by. Oh goody, he thought. Just what he needed. An afternoon with the two worst fundies in the family.

”Just in the past few weeks, yeah. We’re trying to make everything as normal as possible. It’s unbelievable I know... hey, there he is now,” Patricia said cheerily, quickly abandoning whatever conversation had been going on the moment before. “Come say hi to Dawn and Robbie.

Dressed more baggily than ever, Matt turned back toward the living room and shyly approached his aunt and uncle. The smiles written on their faces became wider and steadily grew into looks of mild astonishment.

”It’s a miracle,” Aunt Dawn said, observing the adolescent.

”Yeah, that’s really something.”

”What’s a miracle?” Matt asked.

”Oh no, I just mean, you’re looking so... grown up!” She stroked his blushing cheek with her hand. “What’s it been? Six months?”

”Something like that,” Matt answered, pulling the hand away from his face.

Uncle Robbie wore the same curious expression...eyes wide, mouth hanging open slightly, but at the same time welcoming, as if he had encountered friendly ghost from the past. The mood in the room fluctuated between an awkward meet-and-greet and the heightened tension that might accompany a magic trick.

”So how many rings on the tree is it now?” Robbie asked, shooting a cautious glance at Patricia. “Twelve?”

”Yeah,” Matt mumbled. “I guess so.” Great, confirmation, he thought.

”Pat tells us you’re going to a new church. How do you like it?”

”Oh, it’s just peachy.” Sarcasm dripped from his voice.

”How’s your friend...what’s her name...Candace?”

Before Matt could answer Patricia interrupted. “Actually Sharon and I are in the same prayer group. We meet a couple times during the week. She says Candace really likes the new Youth Group.”

”What? Since when?”

”Honey, I’m just telling them what Sharon told me. Anyway, Dawn and Robbie are here for the afternoon and we’re going to grab some lunch. Why don’t you come along?”

”Do I have a choice?”

Again Matt capitulated. Somehow, being twelve, he felt strangely inclined to honor his parents’ wishes.

At the restaurant, Patricia dominated the conversation with her nonstop anecdotes from church. A new kind of elation came over his mother whenever she mentioned New Life Christian Church. Her praise for the organization bordered on adulation - something approaching a creepy almost cult-like devotion. All the while Robbie and Dawn glanced peculiarly back at Matt, as if still coming to grips with something. Occasionally, when Patricia paused to take a breath, one of them would address Matt.

”So what are you going to order?” Dawn asked, as if she were interested.

”I like the shrimp platter here,” Matt replied.

”Honey,” Patricia broke in, “why don’t you try the kids menu on the other side?”

”But I always get the shrimp...“

”The portions are huge and you don’t need that much,” Patricia informed him. “Why don’t you try the grilled cheese?”

As the disagreement erupted, his aunt and uncle remained oddly fascinated by the exchange. When Matt finally surrendered and ordered from the children’s menu, they whispered something to each other he couldn’t make out. The entire afternoon Matt felt as if his relatives were observing him, taking mental notes and compiling them for some academic paper.

”So, Matt, have a girlfriend yet?” Robbie inquired.

The question sounded less like friendly chit-chat and more like a test.

”No,” he answered faintly.

Robbie and Dawn waited; Matt half expected their next question to involve cooties, and whether or not he had ever contracted them from a girl.

”How about Candace?”

Patricia, of course, couldn’t help but interrupt. “They’re just friends. They play together at church.”

Play. Matt pondered the implications of that word. Were they so young now that their time spent together qualified as “play”? Resentfully biting down on his kid-sized sandwich, Matt tried to imagine what unwelcome visitors had returned to haunt Candace, as both of their genetic clocks crept backward. It was a question Matt would see answered at Wednesday night’s Youth Group meeting.

***

The far end of the parking lot played host to an even larger army of vehicles than the previous week, though two cars went missing. Neither Matt nor Candace were allowed the privilege of driving themselves to the weekly meet. Their licenses had miraculously disappeared days ago, and there wasn’t a state in the union that would recognize a twelve-year-old driver.

”Have fun,” Patricia sang as she waved goodbye.

”Sure thing,” Matt grumbled, dragging his ass into yet another night of senseless preaching and painfully sappy music.

The number of kids attending Youth Group had nearly doubled since last week. New Life Christian Church appeared to be growing exponentially with each passing service. At this rate, every other church in town would dwindle to congregations of less than a hundred by the end of the month. Though Matt hardly trusted his senses anymore, he could have sworn the new gang seemed overly enthusiastic too - even for a church crowd. The hallways were littered with broad smiles and young laughter, as everyone filed into their respective rooms.

Without thinking Matt joined the group wandering into Room 2A, the same direction he had been herded last week. Passing one of the youth leaders, he felt a hand on his chest.

”Whoa, whoa,” a lanky blonde with braces said, as she held Matt back. “What’s your name?”

”Matt. Matt Kessler.”

She flipped intently through some papers attached to a clipboard, and finally, growing impatient with that, bit her pencil. Then a light bulb went off over her head. Soon she produced another clipboard and began reading the names to herself.

”Jacobs, Jones, Kaminer, ahhhhh,” she chirped like a telemarketer. “Here we go.”

”What is it?” Matt asked.

”You’re supposed to be with the middle school group. That’s in 2B, down the hall.”

”But just last week, I...“ he started to object before being cut off.

”It’s right down the hallway on your left, cutie,” she said with a patronizing pat on the shoulder as she redirected him toward the even more youthful end of the youth wing.

The further Matt traveled down the hall the more colorful the walls became - sporadically hung watercolor art and pastel kids drawings decorated the walkway like so many reminders of his impending childhood. Inside the middle school room, clusters of teens and preteens milled about, sipping kool-aid from Dixie cups and talking up a storm. Most of the room fell between twelve and thirteen, while only a few appeared older. The room mirrored the set-up of the high school room, only slightly smaller.

Matt circled the area in search of Candace and discovered his partner in crime already seated at the front. Even more surprising was who she was sitting with: a yappy collection of brightly-dressed young girls who would normally be the first targets in Candace’s crosshairs. But these girls were leaning close to one another, trading what sounded like the latest juicy gossip.

"But Ryan said he would never go out with Katie because she can be a total pain..."

"Yeah I know, right?"

”Candace?” Matt interrupted. “Oh my god.”

”Matt, there you are,” Candace said with a sprightly zing in her voice. “Here, come sit next to me.” She cleared a spot as her new friends instinctively dispersed and formed smaller groups elsewhere.

”I can’t believe it,” Matt mumbled incoherently. The three days since church had truly transformed Candace into a kid. Her eyes had developed a little girl sparkle that betrayed her rebellious past. Further driving home her new image was a baggy red t-shirt with "Angel" printed across the front, the antithesis of her usual low-cut sleeveless faire. Whatever boobs she had left were rendered invisible in the folds of the shirt. With her sleeves rolled up and hair trimmed neatly, even the most skilled carnival age guesser wouldn’t venture a guess past eleven.

”Candace, listen to me,” Matt urged. “Something is happening to us and we have to stop it. Look at yourself!”

”What about me?” Concern darkened her face.

”Don’t you notice anything changing... your voice, your body?”

”I don’t know. I feel weird sometimes, but my mom says...“

”Don’t you get it?” Matt hammered away at his friend’s complacence. “Our parents want us to grow younger. We’re supposed to be eighteen, remember? We’re in high school. You took your SATs a year ago. You have a driver’s license. We’re grown up, Candace.”

”I...I don’t understand,” Candace’s young voice quivered a little. “We’re just starting middle school and I’m not old enough...“

”Yes you are. Think. Think back.”

Disorientation washed over her for a moment as she considered what Matt was saying. She looked into his eyes. After a few seconds of silence passed, she erupted in laughter.

”Oh man,” she giggled, “you almost had me, you little stain.”

”Huh?”

”You were all serious and making that face...“

”Candace, I’m not joking,” Matt said.

”Good one. Very clever. But I’m not stupid, okay?” Candace leaned back in her seat and assumed a more relaxed posture. “Hey, by the way, my birthday party is on Friday if you want to come. I’m sure it will be lame as always, but at least I get presents...”

Matthew slumped into his seat, his arms slack and his stomach growling with unease. He marveled at how cavalierly his friend had cast off every remnant of her adulthood. Even as she prepared for a birthday, one that should have marked her nineteenth year, she seemed unfazed. As Matt tried to regroup, he scanned the rest of the room and came to an even more disturbing realization.

He nudged Candace.

”Oww, what is it?”

”Candace, this is the same group we were with last week.”

”I thought you said we’re supposed to be in the high school group,” Candace replied.

”No, this is the high school group.”

”What?”

”The kids. These are the same people.” Matt found he could hardly breathe.

Several seats down, a pudgy young man with an uncombed mop of sandy brown hair sat alone punching nervously away at his Gameboy. Matt moved closer for a better look. Soon the boy became aware that someone was encroaching on his space and glanced up.

”Nathan?”

”Yeah?”

”Oh shit,” Matt said.

Nathan’s expression changed the instant he heard Matt curse. “Hey, you’re Matt, right?” he asked.

”Right.”

Both boys could tell, by the look on each other’s faces, that they knew. At the same time each felt momentarily relieved to have found another soul who understood, they were confronted with a new problem.

”Do you have any idea what they’re doing to us?” Matt asked. “I mean, how?”

Nathan, whose vocal chords and larynx had shrunk significantly since last week, spoke in a creaky soprano that sounded nothing like the deep voice he had used at the previous Youth Group meeting. “I have no idea. It just started happening like a week ago and, well, you can see...” Nathan pointed to himself. Not only had his voice gained an octave, his acne had vanished, leaving the pink cheeks of a sixth-grader.

”I had no idea. I thought it was just me and Candace,” Matt said frantically.

”Not just us either,” Nathan corrected him. “Look around.”

Matt swallowed hard as he studied the young faces that passed by. First he spotted Ryan, now a scrawny boy with no sideburns or facial hair to speak of. Still, the ratty skater attire gave him away. And they kept coming, one by one. Gradually Matt identified most of the newcomers from last week - each about five or six years younger in appearance. One week’s high schoolers become next week’s middle schoolers. He had to admire the genius of it.

”My mom always said I would eventually lose weight and my acne would clear up,” Nathan mumbled sullenly, “but not this way.”

”Jesus,” Matt exclaimed when he caught a glimpse of Lexi, the cute blonde from the week before. “I didn’t even recognize her.”

Nathan sighed in agreement.

Ms. Milosch’s breasts had shrunk to practically nothing, two barely-there buds that hardly made an impression on her lacey spaghetti-strap top. When she opened her mouth, a little girl’s voice came out. All that was sexy had become merely cute.

”It’s happening to all of us,” Matt moaned. “This is fucking unbelievable.”

”Most of them don’t even know what’s happening to them,” Nathan added. “You’re the first one I’ve met who even suspects anything.”

A surreal air took over as Matt watched, in awe of whatever unexplained phenomenon had converted a group of high school students into a room of oblivious youngsters. Hadn’t the girls noticed their boobs going the way of the dodo? Didn’t the guys worry when their dicks started shrinking? None of it made any sense, and Matt was left with impossible task of somehow alerting them to the danger that lay ahead if something wasn’t done. Quick.

”Yesterday,” Nathan broke Matt’s train of thought just before it barreled off the tracks, “my mom found a couple Playboys under my bed. Now I can’t even have a computer in my room.”

”I’ve gotta know how they’re turning us into children,” Matt announced, pounding his fist against his hand. “There has to be a logical explanation.”

”Dude, look at us,” Nathan said glumly. “What can we do? No one will believe us.”

”Well, what are we supposed to do? Just play along like everything is all right until we’re...“ Matt gulped the next word.

”You really think they would...”

”Let’s hope they’re not that crazy.”

With that came the announcement: “Boys, girls, it’s time to find your seats. We’re getting ready to start.”

One of the youth volunteers, a leggy college freshmen named Jenny, began strumming chords on a guitar. Without missing a beat, the group joined in, singing, “Our God is an awesome God. He reigns from heaven above with wisdom, power, and love. Our God is an awesome God...”

Matt looked on in shock as Candace belted out the tune as if it were her favorite song in the universe. The girl who used to paraphrase Marx, referring to organized religion as “the opiate of the asses,” appeared to be fully ensconced in the throes of worship. He wondered how they had done it, how New Life had succeeded in changing a gothy eighteen-year-old dissenter into an everyday preteen Christian.

”Our God is an awesome God...”

He could see now their ideology was simple: Get ?em while they’re young. And, failing that, make them young again.

 

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