A Slow Descent

by: Voltaire | Complete Story | Last updated Mar 7, 2012

Chapter 5
Thanksgiving Rememberance

Chapter Description: Brandon has to play 'adorable' for his mom's friends, and mrs. Figg tries a temporary solution for his Uncooporitiveness.

I hate thanksgiving.

For those of you not from the United States, Thanksgiving is a holiday where we basically gorge ourselves with turkey and other food. Usually the entire family comes over and enjoys a football game or something.

My family only consists of my parents and I, so we didn’t have anybody to invite over. They eloped when they were young, so their families no longer spoke with them.

My mom invited over a few of her friends from work so that we could have some sort of party. She dressed me up in a full suit and tie, which was really annoying since everyone else was just wearing jeans.

"And this is Brandon." said mom to one of her colleges. "He just turned Eleven."

"Ooh," her friends said. "He is so adorable! I could just eat him up!"

"I’m not a little kid." I said to her. "I’m really Fifteen."

"Oh, of coarse you are sweetie. Here, take my coat."

This lady continued to get on my nerves.

I decided to just play along with it, because I realized nobody would believe me.

"What grade are you in, son?" said Mom’s boss.

"Fifth." I said.

"Well" said the man, "Last time I saw you, you were this tall." he stuck his hand halfway between my face and the floor. That was really ironic to me.

For dinner, we had something called... Chicken something... Parmashon? I didn’t know what it was called. Immediately I hated it, so I had mom make me a hot dog instead.

One of her friends brought their son, Manny, whom apparently was ten.

"My name’s Manny." he said. "Wanna play Yu-Gi-Oh? I have some cool cards."

"No thank you." I said, "I’m too old for that."

"Nuh uh." said Manny. "Your the same age as me! I’m almost Eleven."

"I’m fifteen. Your just a kid." I said.

"No Way! Your not a big kid. I bet you never even been to a PG-13 movie."

"Sure I have. I’m so much older, I have a cell phone." I pulled out my iPhone to show Manny, who got very jealous. I know for a fact that the only thing little kids want in the world is a cell phone, so they can feel grown-up like the older kids.

I was pretty satisfied with myself, and then this happened:

"Brandon!" said mom. "What are you doing with my phone?" she took it away from me. "Go up in your room this instant and think about why stealing is wrong! Your much too young to be calling people without permission, and I guess your not mature enough for a grown up party like this. To your room!"

This made me mad. I started trying to think of some sort of comeback, but I couldn’t think of one. I just went to my room with my head down, tears in my eyes, Manny laughing.

I’ve been crying a lot lately. More and more, I just get overwhelmingly sad, and just start bawling. God I wish this was all a dream.

Mom let me come out of my room a half an hour later, and I had to streak away the tears so Manny couldn’t see.

She made me go back to bed at 8:30, though, and informed me that it was my new bedtime. Not curfew, bed time. She even made me take a bath.

I sat in bed, listening to the party downstairs, going on without me. As much as it sucked having to act like I was just a kid, it was sort of fun being the center of attention, and now I was all alone. "At least I only have one more month." I thought. Then I would get to at least stay in one place. Tomorrow would be my first day of fifth grade, and in less than a month, I wouldn’t even be in double digits age anymore. Right now, I was only 4’8" and I only weighed 88 pounds. My hair had become completely blonde, and I had freckles everywhere. Why is this happening to me?

Suddenly, something clicked inside of me. Somehow, I felt much better. It was like I was lighter, more energetic. Suddenly, everything I knew, everything I had learned after I was ten left me, sealed away.


I looked at the wall where I wrote my real age every day. Was that even my real age? Why was I even writing that? I’m ten years old, not sixteen. I wish I was sixteen. I could have a car and a girlfriend, and drive a motorcycle. Maybe mom would even let have a cell phone! I could call people, and make money and have kids.... How would I even have kids?

The word "Sex" popped into my mind. What was that? It sounded sort of gross.

I didn’t really care though. Tomorrow was Fifth grade! I felt like such a big kid. Daddy said in fifth grade we get to learn about how to add fractions and stuff. Fifth grade also means that I get to go out to recess before the little kids. Someone even said we might get to go to the middle school sometime this year and meet the teachers, since we graduate in two years and middle school is gonna be awesome! I get to have a locker and we won’t even have to walk in lines! Gosh, I can’t wait to grow up!


"And your sure it will work?" said Mr. Fredrick’s.

"Yes." Mrs. Figg replied over the phone. Brandon’s parents had called her recently because Brandon still hadn’t forgotten his old life.

Mrs. Figg had sent them a drug to put in his drink at dinner to change that, or at least make him more like his new age.

"What will happen," said Mrs. Figg "Is that he will temporarily fully regress to his current age. However, it’s only temporary, and his memories will return within the next few days. What that will do though, is quicken the process. After he regains memory, he will start losing teeth and growing back baby teeth, he will adopt a lisp, he will forget big vocabulary, he will forget everything he’s learned in school after fifth grade, he will gradually lose motor skills, his voice will get much higher, etcetera. He will basically be what we want, except that he will still know you did this to him, and be resentful for it. I would suggest having him keep going down until he forgets completely."

"How young with that be?" said Mrs, Fredricks.

"Depending on his willpower, it could be at nine years old, or it could be at infancy. Your decision. Sleep on it." she hung up.




End Chapter 5

A Slow Descent

by: Voltaire | Complete Story | Last updated Mar 7, 2012


To comment, Join the Archive or Login to your Account

The AR Story Archive

Stories of Age/Time Transformation

Contact Us