New Beginnings

For the past several months, Jonathan had been stuck in a rut. something didn't feel right, and he couldn't place a finger on it. He had a respectable, well-paying job at a regional publishing company, he was in the best of health for a man of his age, relatively trim with a winning smile, a youthful visage, and a full head of thick, blond-grey hair. Yet despite his enviable position in life, he just didn't feel satisfied at all. Every day was the same. Wake up, go to work, come home, bed. Perhaps his job was to blame. It had consumed his life, he hadn't even taken a vacation in nearly two years. But he'd always been a go-getter, right from his first day on the job, which was... how many years ago now? Unfortunately, an unassuming letter left on his desk would bare the terrible news.

30 YEARS AT PLACEHOLDER PUBLISHING - AND MANY MORE TO COME!

30 years working in publishing. 3 whole decades. Johnathan turned to the floor-to-ceiling windows in his office, staring out to space. Surely at one point, he had far bigger plans that didn't involve sitting behind a desk for more than half his life. Right? He had initially joined Placeholder as a temporary means to support his growing family. But he became comfortable. Sure, he'd made a name for himself, rose through the ranks until he had his own private office, with a secretary and a six-figure salary. But what had he really accomplished? Even the family plan backfired years ago, not a surprise given how he married the first woman he knocked up. One messy divorce, and a stressful custody battle later, he was alone in the two-bedroom family home he invested in so many years ago. His little boy was now a man himself, leading a very different life in a very different country, a life that no longer included him outside of the seldom birthday or holiday. If his past self could look at him now, he'd likely hate the man he had become. 

It was this crushing realisation that had led Jonathan to wander downtown straight after work. He had to prove to himself that there was more to his life than his work. He could still be impulsive and spontaneous. Which is when he came across a mysterious shop. Inside was a menagerie of unique and curious items. All with ridiculous claims of magic and power. He'd only seen shops like this in the movies. As he browsed the shelves, he felt someone tap him on the shoulder. He flinched and spun around, coming face to face with a stocky man around his own age, with thinning hair and a bushy mustache. The man tapped his foot impatiently, pointing to the tacky watch around his thick wrist.

"I'm closing in five. You looking for something specific?"

"Oh, well... I don't know really. I was just browsing..."

"Great, one'a these guys..." The man grumbled under his breath with a slump of the shoulders. "Look, the Boss-Man's got some intense magic training planned, and he does not like to be kept waiting. So if you don't mind, I'm just gonna..." He trailed off as he cracked his knuckles, and rubbed his palms together

"Magic training? What nonse-" Jonathan began to ask when the man suddenly snapped his hands up to his forehead, his rough fingers pressed firm against his temples. He mumbled something under his breath, and Johnathan felt a tightness in his chest, like he was holding his breath. A tightness that relieved once he opened his mouth and blurted out, "I need something to fix my life! I always dreamed of excitement and adventure and travelling the world! Instead, I'm stuck in a nowhere job, with an ex-wife, and a son who doesn't speak to me and lives in fucking Korea! How did this happen to me? I had plans... I just need a second chance..."

"Ah, classic mid-life crisis," the man chuckled as he released his grip on Jonathan's head, who felt faint as he tried to gather his breath once more. "Too easy." He strolled down the preceding aisle with determination, swiping a few products as if by random. Jonathan frowned, he wasn't having a midlife crisis. He had no desire for fast cars and trophy wives. This was a perfectly normal way to feel when things weren't going according to plan. Before he could complain, the man popped back with a glass tube containing a glittery block. "You're lucky I concocted a few of these last week for one of the Boss-Man's assignments; life trade tablets," he declared with gusto. "Crush it with the person whose life you want, and you'll trade places. You get a fancy new livelihood to spice things up, and they get whatever funky mess you've got going on. Simple."

Jonathan gazed into the tube with uneasy curiousity. Normally he'd consider such statements as foolish nonsense. But there was something about the shimmering tablet that called out to him. "We just crush it? There's no ritual or incantation or spooky voodoo shit?" He wiggled his fingers for dramatic effect, a motion the man rolled his eyes at. "Do I at least need consent from the other person beforehand?"

"Sure, if you want. Or don't. What do I care? Whatever gets your pitiable ass out of this store, so I can lock up." He was pretty blunt for a shopkeeper, and Jonathan wasn't sold on the concept. But this was exactly his problem, he wasn't spontaneous enough, stuck in his ways. So he shoved those thoughts aside and took the plunge. Now all he needed was someone he could swap with.

 It was a few days before Jonathan could gather the courage to even think about his purchase. He sat on the edge of his bed, delicately rolling the tube between his palms, wondering just what to do with it. The first thought was to find a rising star. There were plenty of those in the city, busking on the streets and leading amateur productions. But he couldn't bring himself to take over a person's life without their express permission. He'd feel dirty about it. His second thought was to find a kindred spirit, someone who was also looking for a new path in life. Although Jonathan had certain expectations. He couldn't swap with just anyone. What if they were a criminal? Or living on the streets? He couldn't allow himself to fall to such depths, let alone allow such a person to assume his lavish lifestyle! No, he needed a person who wanted more than fortune and power. Someone who actually wanted his life, warts and all. Maybe someone close to home he could keep an eye on. But who...

It was by mere coincidence that Charlie came to his doorstep that very day. The young lad who lived next door. He had walked home after his gymnastics practice, forgotten to bring a house key with him, and was locked out. Again. It happened far more often than Jonathan liked, especially when he was generally the one left to take him in. He knew the family well, having been their neighbor over the years. Once upon a time, he used to babysit Charlie's dad and uncle under the exact same circumstances. At least back then, his own son used to pal around with the brothers before the divorce. Back when things were more simple, when he was happier. All this reminiscence and nostalgia was tugging at his heart. Maybe this could be the second chance he needed. But he couldn't just ask the boy if he wanted to give up his youth for a lost folly.

That was, until Charlie started to open up about the recent struggles in his life. How his parents were always bugging him about his future, and pushing him to take on all these extra-curricular activities. He had something planned for every single evening after school. Gymnastics, scouts, art classes, piano practice, and German lessons. He was being run ragged. 

"I'm so exhausted! I have no time to do what I want to do, but it's like they don't care." He cried out while Jonathan poured some drinks in the kitchen. "They say I need a diverse set of skills to get into a good college, and a good job, but I think they just don't want me to turn out like Uncle Bruce." Jonathan frowned at the name. From what he recalled, the man dropped out of high school and started up a band. Now he drops by every other month to mooch off of his brother, who has no backbone by letting the freeloader crash on his couch. "Either way, I shouldn't have to worry about this stuff right now! And maybe I don't want to go to college. Maybe I'd be happy flipping burgers or stuck at a desk or cleaning toilets all day. At least nobody would have expectations of me! I don't even like piano, I wanted to play the guitar..."

"Sounds tough, kid." Jonathan said as he re-entered the study, soda in hand. But underneath the sympathy, he could feel his heart pounding. A busy schedule leading towards a better life where he could go on to do great things, it was exactly the kind of push he needed. Especially compared to his current, mundane life.  And with poor Charlie sounding like he viewed his failure of an uncle as a role model, he'd be doing the lad a service by suggesting this trade to him. Perhaps it wouldn't be such a hard sell after all... Sitting in the chair opposite Charlie, he gulped and said, "So this is going to sound crazy. But what if I could offer a solution to your problems."

So Jonathan revealed the tablet and explained its purpose. He explained how he was bored of his life, and maybe a simple, uninteresting office job was just the sort of thing that Charlie needed. And it turned out, he didn't need much convincing. "You mean not only do I get to be a grown-up, I also get to be the one in charge? I can make other people do whatever I want them to, even the stuff I don't?? Sounds pretty dope!" Ah, childhood. When anything was believable. 

Jonathan opened the glass vial, pouring the contents into his palm. A large chalky tablet with a slight glimmer throughout. "So if I'm right, all I have to do is crush this between my hands, and voila?"He grumbled with very little belief. It sounded all too easy. How exactly was this going to perform a magical feat unlike any other? Still, he'd spent all week building up to this very moment. He had to commit. "Okay then... Three, two, one, and..." He clenched his hands into fists, and broke the tablet with relative ease. He brushed his hands together, sprinkling the fine powder around the room and into the air. 

"Now what?"

"Hmm, well..." Jonathan scratched his head. What was supposed to happen? That brash man didn't say. He was beginning to think he'd been conned when the room seemed to get misty. The powder that hung in the air was growing thicker, heavier. Within moments, it had gathered into a swirling fog that seemed to engulf his living room entirely.

The expanding fog made Jonathan uneasy. He didn't know what was better, the trick being a dud or magic actually being real. Along with that unease, he felt a curious burst of energy flood his body. Was the adrenaline rush his fight or flight response kicking in, or was it related to the swap? It was too early to tell. 

While he couldn't see himself, Jonathan could just about make out the neighbour boy through the fog, his figure a mere shillouete amongst the shadows of furniture. Things had begun to take a turn. He felt his gut drop as the distorting sound of shredding fabric and popping joints cracked through the cloud. Even more, he could see that Charlie appeared to be growing at a tremendous rate. The shadowy figure doubled, no, tripled in size as his miniscule frame stretched tall and broad. 

The lad groaned aloud, his grunts progressively dropped in pitch. "Okay mister Stoker, this was a funny joke and all, but I really want it to stop now!" As Charlie started the sentence, his voice crackled with pubertic energy. By his last word, his voice had deepened by an octave, now smooth and mellow.

"I was hoping this was a trick myself, kid." Jonathan replied quite direly. By now, he could sense that youthful vigor bursting through his body once more. His skin felt softer, his body felt more toned underneath his clothes. But without access to a mirror, there was no way of knowing how he looked. He imagined his once dull hair was back to the vividly blonde mop he had as a younger man, before his life fell to monotonous drudgery. And that peculiar itch across his chest could be his sparse body hair retracting back into his skin.

Across the room, he watched as Charlie reached up to rub the protruding lump in his throat and yelped. "How are you doing this!? That's a real Adam's apple, and that has to be real stubble!" He bellowed aloud. 

"I'm not doing anything, it's that tablet!" Jonathan's own voice was now going through the same journey as Charlie's, albeit in reverse. His manly baritone had begun to waver. By the time he uttered his final words, "I'm afraid this is the real deal," he sounded more like a meek, frightened boy.

The figure in the mist suddenly grew to fantastical heights, looming down over Jonathan like a giant. Although deep down, Jonathan knew it was because he himself had diminished in size. He looked down at his body, unable to see much within the mist. But where he had expected his pants to pile up between his legs, or his shirt to swamp his tiny body, there was no bundle of fabric swallowing him whole. In fact, it looked as if his business suit was distorting into a different outfit entirely; a light jacket, a plain T-shirt, and some baggy jeans. His eyes were instead drawn to the hands that poked out from his jacket. They were small and free of blemishes and hair. The hands of a child. His stomach churned as the reality of the situation finally hit him.

With an almost uneventful whimper, the fog that once flooded the room faded away, and Jonathan had a whole new perspective of his home. Everything was a lot taller than he was used to. He spun around, taking in the peculiar phenonemon. The sofa's arms reached up to his shoulders. His favorite book on the bookshelf was now well out of reach. The TV on the far wall looked as large as a cinema screen. And then he turned to face Charlie.

He gasped as he glanced upwards, taking in the towering giant the former boy had become. He looked relatively older than he himself once was, with thinning hair and a rugged face weathered over the years. But then Jonathan always prided himself on staying youthful in his middle age. Charlie didn't manage to obtain the same privilege. It appeared he'd even attained the dreaded turkey neck in his newfound maturity. His hoodie and jeans had been replaced with a classic suit, but he'd taken the jacket off, casually slipping it over the shoulder with a slight smile. He looked down onto Jonathan with a giddy grin. "Check us out! Check me out!" He cheered with a slight gritiness to his voice. "Wow, you look really small from up here! I must be super big now..."

"I forgot how small I was as a child. I was a bit of a late bloomer, you see. I didn't get a major growth spurt until I was fifteen!" Jonathan chuckled at the thought, until it dawned on him. "Oh, I suppose I should say I am a late bloomer, huh?" He frowned. He'd almost pushed out the thoughts of his journey through puberty. It was arduous and he constantly lagged behind his peers in the growth department. It worked out eventually as he stayed youthful well into middle age unlike some people he knew, case in point standing ahead of him now...

But if he'd recalled the teenaged ordeal he'd have to relive, he wouldn't have offered to make the swap. He sighed, had he been too impulsive? If he waited a few more days, would he have found someone older who would have wanted a different life? If he kept waiting for the perfect opportunity, he may never have found anyone. No. This was good. He made it through puberty once before, he could do it again. And he knew what to expect this time. It was a second chance.

"I guess that makes me an early bloomer," Charlie gloated as he didn't appear to notice his neighbor's sudden silence, far more concernced with his own body. He dropped his jacket, and ran his hands up and down his checkered shirt with a goofy grin. "Hey, I think I'm hairy now! It feels like it's tugging against my shirt, sooo weird!" Then his hands wandered up towards his face. "Heheh, and I have stubble! It's like when my dad greets me in the morning before he's shaved. It's so rough and scratchy!" He continued to massage his face with gusto, pushing and pulling his stubbly cheeks. 

"Yeah, yeah, I don't need the running commentary, bud."

"But my skin feels so malleable, almost like a rubber mask..." His fingers moved further up his face until he was rubbing his scalp, now slightly concerned. "Hang on, my hair," Charlie mumbled to himself as he brushed a palm across his head. Not only had his hair shortned in length, down to a short back and sides, but it was very noticeably thinner than before. His hairline had receded by a few inches too. "Am I losing my hair? You weren't..."

"That's genetics for you," Jonathan said with a knowing nod. "I was blessed to have a full head of hair and baby-smooth skin. All natural, of course. I didn't have to resort to surgery to keep my youthful looks, unlike some people." He smirked as he thought of the colleagues over the years who resorted to botox and collagen. "It was all clean living, and the result of two beautiful parents. I'm afraid you didn't hit the genetic jackpot like myself, however..."

"Wait, what do you mean? What's wrong with me? Am I ugly!?" He began patting his face for any deformities. "How old am I now, anyway?"

"51." 

He winced at the number. "F-f-fifty-one!? Wow, that's really close to my grandpa's age..." Charlie tried to appear collected, but his shaky, falsetto voice betrayed him. He cleared his throat, and proceeded to talk in a deeper, more purposely gruff tone. "Like, I knew you were older than my parents, but I didn't think it was by that much... I need a mirror!"

"Now hold on," Jonathan started to say before Charlie suddenly bolted out of the room and stomped up the stairs with surprising dexterity for a fifty-something. Jonathan sighed, rubbing a hand through his own thick, silky blond hair. While he was curious about how the experience had changed him, he didn't need a mirror to know he was an adorable, cherub-faced pre-teen. He already knew what he looked like, even if it had been forty years or so since he last stared that child in the face. Still, he couldn't leave that new man to his own devices. Begrudgingly, he followed him upstairs.

Johnathan burst into his bedroom to find Charlie gawking at his own reflection. He was in the process of unbuttoning his shirt, his paws eager to stroke the generous coating of chest hair he'd already revealed. "Sheeeesh!" He called aloud. "The way you were acting,  I thought I was gonna be super ugly. But check these out!" He pulled his shirt open further, revealing the toned physique underneath, topped with a healthy layer of body hair. "I got muscles up the wazoo here! And all this chest hair? Sheeeeeeesh!"

"Yes, you have a good fitness regime. No need to show it off..."

"C'mon, you have to admit I look pretty good for fifty. Not like you did, mind you, but still handsome. Besides, I like how craggy my face looks. It's lived-in!" 

Jonathan could only smirk as Charlie continued to preen in front of the mirror. Seeing a middle-aged man almost flirting with his reflection was quite something. He inched himself a little to the side, just enough to see himself, and his smirk grew. He was exactly as he remembered himself to be as a 12 year old. Shaggy haired, round, chubby cheeks, a little on the short side but not noticeably short for his age just yet. He was a kid with his whole future ahead of him, unlike the mature man to his side currently craning his head downwards to see how far back his hairline rested. Jonathan chuckled and said "I see you're taking the sudden age increase in its stride."

"Don't get me wrong, knowing that I'm 51 now sucks ass. My dad only turned 30 a few years back, and my grandpa's nearly 60, so I was expecting the worst. But I'm in better shape than the both of them combined! Any kid would be lucky to have me as a grandpa. Not that I'm ready to be one, of course." Charlie stopped rubbing his stubbly chin, and turned to Jonathan. "I'm... I'm not a grandpa, right?"

"Oh, I wouldn't worry about that happening anytime soon, bud." Jonathan sighed. Thankfully, his son was still living the bachelor life the last time they spoke. He was struggling to start a relationship in Seoul with someone who spoke the same language. Then it hit him. His son was older than him by... Oh, he didn't even want to work out the age gap. What mattered was that he was basically a child in the eye of anyone who saw him.

Charlie sighed in relief. "Good. I'm just a single dad with an adult son living in South Korea." He paused. "Wait? How do I know about Duke? I've never met him... Wait, is that the same Duke that Uncle Bruce always talks about? Woah... I think I have your memories... Sheee-"

"Don't. Stop that." Jonathan snapped. He couldn't listen to that ear-splitting call again. But the man was right. He was starting to recall memories of family vacations, school exams, embarrassing sleepover moments, and mundane after-school activities. A life that he had never lived. "Wait, your dog's name is Maisie? I've been calling her Daisy... Man, this is trippy..."

"Right??" Charlie grinned. "I can't believe I got an ex-wife! I can't believe she up and divorced me after finding out I like dudes, neither. Man, your life is soap opera AF."

"Hold on, that's not how it happened..."

"But no matter, with a glow-up like this, I'll be swatting the babes away like flies. I just need to up my gym seshes, and get more swole. I should grow a beard too, I've always wanted to grow a beard. Uncle Bruce has the sickest beard, but I'm like double his age now. I bet I could grow something even better than his!"

"Surely you have an off-switch somewhere..."

"But my stubble looks a little gray... Well, a lot actually. Would I look too old? I am 51, after all. Maybe if I shaved my head too, it defo needs dealing with. I don't wanna be the guy who can't take a hint, you know? Like, it's not gonna grow back, and-"

"No no no, you stop this nonsense right now!" Jonathan finally snapped. "I forbid you from shaving your head! It would look so unprofessional. You work in an office, not a dive bar. The same with growing a beard. You are a businessman for Pete's sake, not some vagrant thug!"

Charlie stared down the boy throwing a tantrum and crossed his arms. "Uhh, It's my body. I could wax every single hair and you can't do nothing to stop me. Not that I would want to, there's so much of it everywhere..."

"No, I can't have you tampering with my old life! I know I wanted a change, but I can't watch everything I've achieved go to waste because some immature oaf wants facial hair! If you're not going to take this seriously, then we're just going to have to swap back."

"What? No... You're bluffing. You asked meto swap, you wouldn't give it all up so easily."

"Am I? Did you think I only had the one tablet?" Jonathan lied. In fact, the thought of swapping back hadn't occurred to him at the time he purchased his sole tablet. But it shouldn't be too hard to find the store and buy another, right? It was 2 blocks south of the publishing company after all. Charlie didn't have to know that. He jutted his chin out defiantly, and calmly stated "This isn't a game, son. You play by my rules or the deal is done."

Charlie stood his own ground, glaring down at the kid until he sighed and shook his head. "Alright, I won't shave my head..."

"Or?"

"Or grow a beard! Or whatever else you demand... For now!" Charlie declared quite sharply. "But I have a right to do what I want in the future. Like after a few months of living your strict, office job of a life."

Jonathan gritted his teeth, his face scrunched in annoyance. He didn't want to give the lad any sort of leeway. But that was a long time, relatively speaking. In a few months time, he could have gotten the whole thing out of his system, ready to begin his life anew once more. Yes, he was sure that's exactly how things would happen. And so he reluctantly sighed, "Okay. I'll give you 3 months leeway, then you can do whatever you want to that ugly mug of yours. As long as it doesn't affect your standing in society!"

Charlie cocked his head a little, then shrugged his shoulders. "I'll take it! Man, the next 3 months are gonna slap so hard, then I'll grow a beard and it'll slap even harder! By then, I'll-" He was cut off suddenly by a loud shrill. A ringing at the door. They both instinctively spun on the spot. "It's probably my mom, come to get me. I told her I was here." Then his face sunk. "I mean, it's your mom... Wow, that's going to be tricky."

"You think you have it hard? I have to remember to not call her Barb." The two chuckled over the shared journey they were about to embark on, when the doorbell rung again. "Well, what are you waiting for? It's your front door!" Charlie nodded and darted out of the room. "And button your damned shirt up!"

Jonathan followed slightly behind, watching as Charlie opened the door to his bemused mother. She didn't look surprised or frightened by the supposed stranger, which meant the magic must have affected more than their looks and memories. He hadn't stopped to think of that. As he entered the living room to grab his school bag, he lingered on the family portraits on the wall. He was no longer present. Instead, younger versions of Charlie stood in his place. Portraits trapped in time of a man who never got to experience those moments himself. It was a melancholic send-off to his former life as he greeted his new mom, careful not to call her by her actual name. And as he waved goodbye to Charlie, who had a sad smile on his face, Jonathan couldn't help but feel sad himself. Maybe this wasn't such a good decision after all. But what's done is done, and a second chance was awaiting him. Only time would tell if he'd made the right choice.