ALL NOVEL 0001 – The Beginning of Change
With a weary twist of the key, Zoe Carter stepped into her rented flat in Hamilton. It was the 18th of January.
As a freelancer, Zoe had the luxury of extending her stay in her hometown, but now it was time to settle back into her routine. After a restful holiday in the countryside, she had boarded a flight back to Hamilton, finally reaching her apartment at around ten in the evening after a subway ride.
Slightly bloated from the indulgences of New Year's festivities, she caught the faint, stale odor lingering in the air—evidence of the month-long vacancy. Sighing, she dropped her luggage and glanced at the poster on the wall that read, “Yeah, a tomboy, rock baby!” Removing her glasses, she attempted to clear her mind.
Without her mother's meticulous hand, the task of cleaning the flat now fell to Zoe. Despite her fatigue from the day's travel, she tackled the month-old bed linen, tossing it into the washing machine. The chore took over ten minutes, draining the last of her energy.
Overwhelmed by weariness, Zoe found herself succumbing to drowsiness. Her eyelids grew heavy, her body weakened, and before she could gather her thoughts, the world around her faded into darkness as she collapsed onto the bare mattress.
Morning sunlight gently kissed Zoe’s face, causing her eyelids to flutter. Upon opening her eyes, she noticed the window ajar, the fresh breeze ruffling the curtains.
Slowly coming to her senses, she realized the bed was still stripped of its sheets. Confusion clouded her thoughts as she turned her gaze towards the sky. The clouds danced from blue to purple, then shifted to hues of red and gold, creating a spectacular play of light and shadow.
Yet, it wasn’t the beauty of the sky that captured her attention. Instead, it was the sight of a solitary bird, its wings flapping slowly as it glided beneath the evening glow.
Zoe paused, bewildered. Her unassisted vision had always been terrible, and yet, here she was, seeing details that would have previously escaped her without glasses.
A sense of unease crept in. Something was wrong.
Reaching for her phone, which lay amid her crumpled clothes, she ignored the low battery warning and turned it on. The time on the screen confirmed her suspicions—it was the afternoon of the 19th of January.
Had she truly slept for nearly a full day? Her mind raced with questions, a fog of confusion enveloping her.
Still uncertain, she headed to the bathroom, seeking clarity in her reflection. Her face appeared unchanged, though the tension etched upon it betrayed her inner turmoil.
"Could I be ill?" she muttered under her breath, the thought lodging itself uncomfortably in her mind.
Opening her phone once again, she conducted a quick search on GumGumGo, exploring symptoms that matched hallucinations. A wave of apprehension washed over her; perhaps she had contracted some bizarre illness.
After a brief moment of deliberation, Zoe decided that a visit to the clinic was in order. As dusk began to settle, she made her way to the small medical centre near the residential area.
Half an hour later, Zoe returned, standing in the lift with a bag of moisturizing eye drops and a few groceries from the local market. The doctor’s words still echoed in her ears:
“After such fatigue, sleeping for up to twenty hours isn’t uncommon. As for your improved vision, there’s no sign of disease. It’s likely your ciliary muscles have simply relaxed after a good rest, improving your eyesight temporarily.”
The doctor’s preliminary diagnosis had been reassuring: eye fatigue. Zoe was instructed to avoid extended phone usage and to apply Tropicamide eye drops before bed for a few nights.
Despite the doctor’s assurances, Zoe couldn’t shake the sense that something more profound was happening to her body. There was a disquieting feeling deep within—a transformation she couldn’t yet explain.
As she absent-mindedly massaged the heat in her chest, her thoughts drifted to what else might be unfolding within her. She was startled from her reverie when the lift dinged, arriving at the fifth floor.
The doors slid open to reveal Benny, her neighbour from upstairs. Slightly rotund and middle-aged, he clutched a bottle of red wine and wore a tight-fitting shirt with an English-style hat perched jauntily atop his head—an odd combination, to be sure.
Benny, known for his peculiar habit of stopping on the fifth floor before continuing to his own, was an eccentric. They often traded vegetables and small talk, making them somewhat familiar with one another.
He had a penchant for quoting famous lines and gossiping about conspiracies, a source of both amusement and bemusement for Zoe.
Though they usually exchanged pleasantries, today she remained quiet, lost in her thoughts. As they reached the sixth floor, Benny broke the silence.
“Karl Marx and Friedrich Engels once said, ‘From each according to his ability, to each according to his needs—’” He paused, tipping his hat in his usual theatrical manner. “Zoe, you’ve returned from the New Year celebrations, and I must say, you’re looking rather sprightly. Discipline, my dear, I tip my hat to you!”
Zoe’s hand instinctively moved to her midriff. What was once a rounded belly, a result of festive overindulgence, was now visibly toned beneath her clothes.
Wait... Where had her belly fat gone? And her sagging breasts?
Just last night, her post-holiday body had borne the evidence of weeks of feasting. But now...
Her once plump figure had given way to firm muscle definition in her chest, arms, and thighs.
This sudden, inexplicable transformation left her frozen in place.
She hadn’t noticed the change earlier, in her haste to get to the clinic. But now, it was undeniable. If the extended sleep and improved vision could be explained away as natural phenomena, the sudden disappearance of excess fat and the emergence of muscle could not.
Something strange was happening to her body.
The realisation brought a flood of complex emotions, a mix of bewilderment and disbelief.
Her thoughts raced—had anyone else noticed? She had only returned home the previous night, encountered strangers at the airport and on the subway. No one familiar had seen her during this time of transformation. Thankfully, those in her hometown hadn’t witnessed the changes either.
Perhaps, just perhaps, this strange development had gone unnoticed.
With a steadying breath, Zoe regained her composure. She turned to Benny, who was still adjusting his hat, and replied with a calm smile, “One workout at a time, one day at a time, one meal at a time.”
It was a safe response, one that could suggest she had kept up with her exercise regimen over the holidays. After all, admitting she had undergone a dramatic overnight transformation would sound absurd.
“Ah, a quote from Charlene Johnson! You’ve inspired me to take up exercise too,” Benny chuckled, tipping his hat once more.
It was their customary exchange—trading famous quotes had become a light-hearted pastime between the two.
With a nod and a smile, Zoe hurriedly stepped out of the lift and into her flat, her mind racing with the realization of what had just transpired. She needed time to process these changes—alone.
Meanwhile, Benny glanced at the bottle of wine in his hand, furrowing his brow.
“No point in wasting good wine. A warm shotgun and a cold beer... Tomorrow, perhaps, I’ll take up exercise.”
With a satisfied smirk, Benny unlocked his door and stepped inside.