ALL NOVEL Chapter 1: A Name
Part One: A Second Chance
I don't envy babies anymore. To be honest, I envied the little poop factories when I was living in my trailer with my older brother's family. The joy of just sitting in a crib, minding your own business, and having giants slave over keeping you clean and fed. They had nothing to worry about.
Yeah no. Not any longer. Though I doubt most babies have the consciousness of an adult, this little body of mine feels like a prison. My muscles ache with every shift of my body or attempted lift of my head, and my eyesight is atrocious. The Elven woman and man are always bringing their faces so close to mine that it's unnerving, to say the least!
At least when the man does it, the woman at least seems pretty and harmless, but the man, now resembling a grizzled geezer since he grew out his hair, is a bit off-putting, to say the least. The man probably has little to no experience with kids especially when he jostles me around like I'm some football.
I swear, if he throws me in the air one more time, I'll aim my vomit at him.
I have no idea how much time has passed. I've slept so much, it's hard to tell. I'd been repositioned at least a dozen times. Yet even then, it's done little to keep my sanity in check. Imagine being trapped in your thoughts for hours and days on end, hardly able to move. It reminds me of that horror story I read about a US soldier during WWII who was a prisoner of the Japanese and how they kept him locked away for years on end in his cell.
Yet, if memory serves me right, the man kept himself sane by building a house in his mind.
A strategy that I tried to replicate. I'd spend many hours a day trapped in my cell, which was my crib, imagining things in my head. Back in my old life, this was something I did often. I was always an imaginative kid, and my parents were always amazed at how I could keep myself entertained without toys. However, in my adult years, this was a habit I dropped, especially when D&D became a thing in my life.
I wonder if there's magic in this world.
Despite my poor, developing eyesight, the few times I've been carried out of prison, I've been able to obtain some information about my whereabouts. For starters, I appeared to be in a small, two-story home in what I assumed to be the countryside. The few times I've been outside, it's been rather warm, so perhaps it's spring, as I have seen some melting snow. There seems to be some form of electricity, judging by the lighting situation inside. Such that whenever my "parents" entered the room at night, the room would suddenly become lit.
I also may have a sibling. An older brother of sorts, but only by what seems to be a year or two. Even though the little scumbag is already enjoying the experience of locomotion, I, for one thing, cannot wait to resume walking. Oh, there's also one other thing I learned during my bouts of meditation and self-discovery in prison—something a bit drastic that I wasn't ready for.
I'm no longer male.
It appears that my reincarnation has rolled the dice, and I seem to have lost my manhood. Which will certainly make things interesting in the future. In my old life, I had always wondered what it'd be like to be a woman. Would I have enjoyed it more, or would I still be in the same situation I was before?
From every girl I spoke to, I was always told several things. Which always shifted from good to bad. I thought with a small sigh.
On another topic, I also learned from moving my pudgy arms around that I also share a similar trait with the woman who birthed me in that I too have pointed ears.
Am I a little elf? The idea was interesting, to say the least.
Yet while exploring my surroundings with my limited vision, touching and exploring this small crib has proven to be a nice distraction in between my imaginative adventures. Yet not all was well. For starters. The need to relieve oneself, God, and how humiliating being an infant is—no wonder the little bastards cry and cry while I try to keep my dignity. Laying in a crib of my own filth has shown me that no matter how strong-willed I thought I was, even I broke down and screamed for my guardians to take care of me.
While that in itself is humiliating, what also troubled me were my thoughts. As aforementioned, being the infant that I am now with the mind of an adult, I find myself lying here stewing between bouts of imagination. After reflecting on my predicament and how I ended up here for as long as I lay in my crib, I haven't gotten to any conclusions. In my prior life, I was an agnostic, not knowing if there was a higher power out there or not. Well, let's say I'm a believer now. Though not in the sense one would think. Something might be out there, yes, but I don't think Jesus Christ decided to pluck me out of that stretcher and stick me here.
Yet I also couldn't help but think about home. My brother and his family, my parents, or even my eldest sibling, who I rarely see anymore or will ever again. I wasn't on the best of terms with them. Not to the point of hatred or the like, but... reclusive. I hardly paid much attention to them. After I got out of the hell hole that was high school and found a job capable of gaining a basic living wage, I got the opportunity to shack up with my middle brother and his girlfriend at the time. Owning or renting your place at the time was borderline unheard of, and this was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to get away from my verbally abusive mother, or so I felt.
My prior life was... okay. It wasn't terrible, to say the least; people have experienced far worse than me. I was just some fat, scruffy loner with a handful of internet friends. I kept to myself because I knew that whatever issues I had were all ones I could handle myself, and besides, they weren't anything to cry over. I had plenty of anxiety issues, and one too many times I've encountered people who pretended to be my friends, only to backstab me. And well...
I shouldn't dwell on this. What's done is done. On the bright side of things, I guess I could say I did save that clerk's life. Maybe... Stop it! Stop it...
I'm only going to make myself depressed, and worst of all, nobody likes a crying baby. I don't want to disturb these new people. All we can do now is focus on the task at hand. Which is... sit-ups! I need to strengthen this little baby's body. I'm just going to lift my arms up! Like this! Now just lift!
To say my exercise regime lasted more than a minute would be a lie.
More time has passed by, and what I could vaguely recall from my time living with my brother and his family is that he told me babies can start to see better towards the midway point of the second month, about six weeks or so. At least for human babies, that is. Though now I could see clearly up to about a foot and a half away from me, for instance, now I can see the other end of my crib, and behind and above me looked to be a lamp of sorts, thus confirming my suspicion about electricity existing in this world. Though the light was different from anything back home, it was like an LED—a blue light. Yet when powered on, it worked like gas.
It wasn't instant but gradual like the light was being slowly pushed out of it when my "parents" came to check on me. Speaking of my caretakers, now that I could see more clearly, I finally got a proper look at the two, or, well, three. The first is what I assume to be my mother in this world. She was absolutely stunning—a tall, toned, and curvy elf with long, pointed ears that protruded at least six inches on either side of her head. Her short black hair appeared to have blue streaks in it, and her eyes were a dark shade of blue that rivaled the night sky. I got a very tomboyish impression of her from all the anime and video games I have played over the years.
I'll come out and say it; she's my type. I smirked whenever she came into my room. She was quite the eye candy, to say the least.
Stop! I blinked. That is your mother now, you fucking degenerate. Ah shit, my conscience is right.
Anyway, as for the man of the house, he was just as handsome as the woman. As far as I could tell, the man was an elf, too, though his ears did not protrude quite as far as my mother's did. In addition to having dirty brown hair, his stubble has also grown somewhat since our initial encounter. His eyes were quite small, pointed, and a strikingly vivid shade of green, almost identical to the color of freshly cut grass. I could totally picture him in a leading role in a domestic action film, thanks to his broad shoulders and trim waist.
Last but not least, there was the boy I had always assumed to be my older brother. It appeared that he was between two and three years old. It was enough that he was able to walk around and hold at least rudimentary conversations with our parents. A cute kid, I suppose. He inherited the best qualities of his parents. Although shorter than his mother, he possessed long ears, and his hair was an extremely dark brown hue, bordering on black. However, what stood out the most were his eyes. His left eye is an ocean blue hue, whereas his right eye is a grass green hue. He possessed both blue and green eyes. I am sure I saw this somewhere online, but I cannot place it now. Heterochromia? I think that's what that is.
Fascinating. Do my eyes look the same?
Anyway, the boy was enraptured with me, always poking his snot-nosed face into my crib and making silly faces at me. I know it's ironic to say this, but... I despise children. I never got along with them. I have never been outwardly mean to them, like I could tolerate their presence. Yet having lived with two of them for three years. My sanity waned.
Yet now. Here I am. Unable to fortify myself in my room, unable to cover my ears to shield myself from the crying. I am defenseless against this boy. Many times, he has tried to pick me up, and many times I've watched as my two supermodel parents admonished the boy to put me down. Yet the brat just wouldn't learn.
While physically I am unable to defend myself against this child, I can at least do one thing. Psychological warfare. As mentioned before, the kid loves to stick his head into my crib. He makes silly, annoying faces at me all the time. Sometimes he does get me; he makes some stupid face, which I can't help but grin at. But when I do, it only encourages him. So well, I stare. I make my straightest poker face, and I peer into this child's soul. At first, this didn't faze him, and I expected as much. Yet as time went on, days went by. I could see the uneasiness settle in, and eventually, he stopped pressuring me as much.
God, I'm a fucking asshole.
The best times of the day are snack times. I'm still too young for proper food, so my mother would always sit me down at the kitchen table and nurse me, and... well, I would be a filthy liar if I said I didn't enjoy the view or the treat, though partially that's just due to me being a degenerate... Anyway, aside from that, what made me enjoy this bit was how much more I got to see the house.
Being so close to my mother also allowed me to take her in more. The smell of pomegranate perfume on her clothes as well as the smoothness of her skin Not to mention how she looked in general, led me to believe that an elf of all things is nursing me. To think she's an elf at all! Even now, nearly two months after I woke up here in this world, I'm still struggling with unraveling everything around me.
Another thing I've learned from all this regards the clothes the folks around me wear. For myself, I'm wearing a typical cotton onesie, or at least what I think is cotton. Yet everyone else... if I had to compare it to a time period, I'd say the early 19th century. The man I see at home typically wears what appears to be denim jeans and suspenders with what appears to be a polo shirt made of white or alabaster fabric. He always wears a jacket and a hat when venturing outside, while my mom alternates between long skirts, sundresses, shorts, and a polo. She occasionally steals and dons the man's hat; the two of them frequently engage in playful altercations over it prior to, uh, undressing and... wrestling.
I'll leave that there.
During my nursing periods, Mother would sometimes take me to other rooms of the house where I'd learn more. The house is small, for an adult at least. I've seen a small dining room, a kitchen, and a living room. The living room has a staircase that leads to the upper portions of the house. Here I saw what looked to be a bathroom with actual plumbing, a study room where I've seen the man come entering and leaving a couple of times, as well as my bedroom. Which I share with the boy I've been staring at. Beside our room is what I presume to be the master bedroom.
A place I have grown to despise. This is because the walls in this house are extremely thin. Over the past few weeks, I have lost countless hours of sleep to the sounds of my parents laboring to give birth to a third sibling.
I may be young, but that does not mean I do not know what the hell you are up to!
Aside from that, however, my favorite periods of nursing time are actually when my Mother takes me outside. When I was born, it was around the end of winter, or so I assumed based on the bits of melting snow I saw. I don't know how seasons work in this world. Even now, it is still quite warm. Maybe we were nearing the equivalent of March? If I assume I came here in late December or February at least.
It was warm out, with little to no humidity. The sky was a bright blue with very few clouds, and a gentle breeze wafted over the landscape, counteracting the warm air. My eyesight was getting drastically better; perhaps Elven babies improve in that aspect faster than humans, and I could already see a bit further out. About six feet out or so, my vision gets somewhat blurry, yet I can make out distant shapes and landscapes way better than I could months prior.
One morning, my mother brought me out to the backyard for some lunch. She nursed me privately and noticed I had stopped suckling. You see, I was gazing out at possibly one of the most gorgeous scenes I could ever imagine. Our house was on a hill, a big hill, and from this hill, I could see a sprawling valley of rolling grasslands and woodland trees. Yet they were not ordinary trees; they were a multi-hued array of trees. Reds, yellows, and even pink trees. All scattered amongst the greenery, highlighting it in all its magnificent ways. Like a painting come to life, it sprawled on forever till the horizon was met with gargantuan mountains that loomed over the valley. It was breathtaking.
My mother said something to me, and I felt her tuck her breast back into her shirt and button it up as she lifted me and placed me gently on her hip. She spoke to me softly, her voice tender and warm, which sent tingles through me. She gently stroked the small bits of hair that rested on my head. I still had no idea what she was saying, yet I was catching onto something. A word she only said when looking at me.
Verbally, in English, it sounded like "Roona". Perhaps this was my name? It seemed to be as though when I heard her say it, I used all the strength in my little neck to look up at the woman, and her warm smile widened even more, and she giggled before saying something cheerfully and tapping my nose, which made me giggle.
About a year has passed since I first awoke in this world, and my daily workout routine of trying to lift my head and rolling onto my stomach and panicking has seemed to have paid off. For now, I have mastered the art of crawling. My vision has fully adapted to this new little body, and I can see now! Incredibly, my ancient prediction about the 19th century turned out to be remarkably spot-on. All in all, the house was in pretty good shape, especially the kitchen, the large water heater in the basement, and the lighting. It was like I'd been transported back to the 1800s, with a fantasy twist. Unfortunately, this world most likely didn't have the internet or video games.
With my new-found mobility, Mother and Pa practically let me run loose as long as I stayed far away from the front or back doors, as they feared me going outside. I was also restricted from going into a number of pantries and cabinets. However that didn't stop me when they weren't looking, my main obstacles were doors and stairs. I cannot reach doorknobs because I am too short, and I cannot use stairs because my legs are too weak to carry me up them.
I'm confident I can master walking easily; it just comes down to working out, and boy, I hate leg day. So much. Now, seeing as it's mandatory, this is going to suck. But it hasn't stopped me. On one particular morning, while my family was in the dining room, Pa was reading what looked to be some form of newspaper while sipping on his coffee. He looked ridiculous with his face scrunched up in an intense expression. Lately, he has adopted a new appearance. When I first met him, he was clean-shaven, but as time went on, he developed a beard and mustache. Now he is back to shaving clean, save for the mustache that has grown out on his upper lip. Anyway, his attention was so focused on this newspaper while Ma was cooking breakfast and bringing it out for everyone, and my brother was in his booster seat, pounding away at the table with the silverware.
I, the little speedster, as I came to call myself, was in their little play area. They quartered off a small corner of the dining room, where they laid out all these plush toys and a couple of blocks for me to play with. Some of these toys were pretty neat, too! I don't know how it works, but the blocks have these symbols on them. I don't know if they're numbers or not, but if you trace them, they emit a colorful glow, which is pretty mesmerizing. Something akin to magic, though I have never given the idea much thought and have never seen evidence that magic exists. I have not witnessed a dragon flying overhead or Gandalf casting a spell. Truly, I have not come across a single human being. Huh...
But that's beside the point; as cool as these little magic blocks were, I had fun with them, and honestly, I'm trying to speed-run my way through infancy. So, to do that, I've been focusing the past few weeks on standing. You see, the little play area I mentioned has a baby gate—a little wooden gate about two feet up, way taller than me, but perfect for balancing against. While the folks were preparing the table, I knew I had about a couple minutes before Mother would come and snatch me out of the playpen to sit with everyone around the table. So now was the time to act.
So far, every attempt at standing has ended with pain-filled baby legs and me plopping on my ass. But today was the day. If I cannot keep it together this time, I am going to have to resort to crying like a baby. So, with that in mind, I placed my stuffed bunny and glowing block down and crawled towards the gate.
I landed on my stomach and got into a push-up position, then used my tiny arms to lift myself off the ground and onto my knees. Already, I could feel the muscles in my little legs tiring as I reached out and grabbed the pen's bars. With a lot of effort, I firmly rooted my feet and propelled myself upward, and yes!
Yes, I did it! I'm standing! I shrieked in delight, drawing Pa's attention; he looked up from his newspaper just as my body gave out from its excitement, causing me to fall back and hit my head on the floor.
"Roona!" My vision was blurry and hazy, but I heard Mother yell as she and Pa rushed towards me. I could hear them arguing as my mom walked into the pen and knelt to pick me up.
Ouch, that hurt... I thought to myself, I think I rose too fast, and my fat head sent me over. I felt Mother touch the back of my head and wince. Her voice once more echoed my name with a hint of alarm.
Pa expressed his frustration in a statement and made a gesture towards the table and his paper. In response, Mother seemed to retort, causing Pa to retreat and sigh.
I think he's being scolded for not watching me, poor dude. I sighed softly. It honestly doesn't hurt that bad. Wait, babies cry when they're hurt? Maybe she's concerned that I'm not crying?
Ma hurriedly escorted me into the kitchen, where she placed me delicately on the counter. She retrieved a damp washcloth and wiped it under the sink before placing it on my head. It was icy and cold. I winced once more and gasped. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw her pull the cloth away, and I saw what looked like blood.
Holy shit! I watched her rinse the blood-stained cloth with wide eyes. The fall didn't feel that bad! As she reversed direction towards the ice box, Mother uttered a word and gestured for me to remain still. Above it was a satchel hanging on the wall with a red snake-like symbol on it. As soon as she removed and reopened it, I realized that it was, in essence, a first aid kit. But the items she removed were neither bandages nor medication. It was a rolled-up piece of parchment. A scroll.
She approached me, and the sound of my own name being spoken drew my attention. She smiled warmly and once again held a hand up to suggest I stay put. She then broke a seal on the scroll and unrolled it. She turned to it and began to read, and I could tell that something momentous was happening as she did so.
A dim green aura emanated from her hands as the illumination in the room dimmed and the scroll in her hands started to shimmer. This earthy odor permeated the room as Mother, with one hand, released the scroll and placed it on the back of my head, causing particles of green energy to emanate from the aurora.
"Hel'Nora," A surge of warmth emanated from her hand and penetrated the abrasion on my head as she finished her chant. The agony in my mind vanished suddenly, and within seconds, I returned to my previous state of being without noticing any change. This happened just as my mother's scroll began to break up into dust-like fragments before dissipating.
When the dust finally settled, Mother kneeled in front of me, a grin on her face. "Roona?" She said it to me in a curious tone as she cocked her head to the side. I forced myself out of my stupor and smiled at her, then gave her my best, exaggeratedly cute cheer and laughed happily as she picked me up and carried me off to breakfast. Even so, I could not help but glance over the counter as I clung to her shoulder, and she carried me.
So, there is magic in this world after all. I thought about it and would continue to think about it for the rest of the day.