### Title: Fractured Reflections

### Title: Through the Looking Glass

#### 1

The grocery store was dim, the fluorescent lights flickering with an eerie hum. Seven-year-old Ben clung to his mom’s hand as he navigated the aisles, his wide blue eyes darting nervously around. His small frame was dressed in a simple red t-shirt, a pair of blue jeans slightly too loose that required a belt, and a pair of well-worn sneakers. Today, like every other day, was tinged with tension, the world outside emerging as a landscape ruled by zombies.

His mom, Eva, pushed the cart with determined focus. She was 32 years old, standing at 5'6", and weighing about 140 pounds. Her birthday was August 14, 1988. Her auburn hair was tied back in a bun, the only way to keep it practical in such dire circumstances. Eva's green eyes scanned the shelves for supplies, her worn-out sneakers moving in rhythmic caution.

"Ben, stay close," Eva whispered, her voice laced with anxiety. They wearily grabbed food and supplies, shoving whatever they needed into the cart in a haphazard urgency. Eva's slender hands clutched the cart, her knuckles white with stress.

Suddenly, the calm was shattered as the screeching of metal echoed through the store. Zombies began pouring in, grotesque and terrifying.

"Run!" Eva screamed. She bolted down the aisle, her white sneakers squeaking on the tiled floor. Ben followed, his small legs moving as fast as they could. Heart pounding, he felt a rush of adrenaline as his environment blurred.

#### 2

In the chaos, a figure emerged—a woman in a vibrant, summery outfit. Her name was Lily, aged 32 as well, standing at 5'5", and weighing around 130 pounds. Her birthday was April 5, 1988. She hailed from London, the heart of the UK. She wore a sky-blue summer dress, whose hem fluttered as she moved. Her slim, tan legs extended into a pair of skimpy wedges, the straps barely holding onto the curves of her feet. The wedges were a soft beige, adorned with small sunflowers, and she wore them with surprising grace.

Lily’s long, straight blonde hair flowed behind her, moving like a golden curtain. Her bright blue eyes spotted young Ben. Around her neck dangled a dainty gold locket, and on her wrists jangled several thin silver bracelets. In her ears, small sapphire studs. Around one ankle, she wore a thin anklet engraved with ‘Hope’, and on her fingers rested two delicate rings.

Lily had come to the store out of necessity, having scavenged her neighborhood thoroughly. Supplies were running low, and hunger gnawed at her belly. Ben reached out instinctively for his mom but found himself caught by Lily, who, in a desperate but gentle motion, tried to pull him to safety.

"No, I want my mommy!" Ben shrieked, trying to avoid her grasp. But dizziness overtook him, his vision blurring until it went pitch black.

#### 3

When Ben opened his eyes again, the world seemed different. Taller, older—he felt strange. He looked down, only to see long, blonde hair cascading past his shoulders and a sky-blue dress fluttering around his legs. Panic surged through him as he saw his feet now cradled by the skimpy wedges Lily had worn.

"Mommy?" he called out, his voice unnervingly high and feminine. There was no answer. Desperate tears filled his now-blue eyes as he attempted to run, stumbling over the summery wedges. With every step, the unsteady height made his movements awkward, tripping him.

Exhausted and out of breath, Ben stumbled forward, managing to get a distance away from the zombies. Curious, he caught his reflection in a shattered store window. His new appearance stunned him. He traced the delicate contours of his eyes with dainty fingers, realizing they were nothing like his mother’s green ones.

"I—I want to go home," Ben whispered, but the words came out in a foreign accent, "Oi—Oi wan' ta go 'ome."

Hearing his voice, Ben started to cry. He touched his hair, trying to make it look less girly, tugging it into a loose ponytail and then a messy bun, but its length made it impossible to tame.

He grasped the hem of the dress, trying in vain to pull it off. First, by yanking upwards, then backwards. He tried sliding it over his shoulders and then furiously tugging each sleeve separately. But the dress seemed to mock him, fitting like a second skin.

Hopelessly, his attention turned to the skimpy wedges. He tried to kick them off by moving his feet sideways and then attempted to untangle the straps with his fingers. Next, he tried stepping on the heel of each wedge, similar to how he'd remove his sneakers. He wriggled his toes and then unclasped the straps, one by one, but they refused to come off.

Then came the jewelry. He tried removing the gold locket, but the clasp was too tiny. The bracelets wouldn't slide off his wrist no matter how hard he pulled, his fingers fumbling with the clasps. The sapphire studs—he tried twisting them off but his fingers were too clumsy. Fighting back tears, he worked on the anklet, but it was tightly clasped and refused to break. Lastly, the rings; they wouldn’t budge from his slender new fingers.

"I'm—I'm scared," Ben stuttered in a British accent, "Oi'm—Oi'm scared." He squeezed his eyes shut, struggling to fend off the encroaching fear.

Left in this inexplicable transformation, Ben could only brace himself for whatever would come next in this surreal, nightmarish reality.

This story was generated by user manemansteve with assistance by one of OpenAI’s large-scale language-generation model; prompts used to help generate the story are shown below.

Images were generated with OpenAI's AI system, DALL·E 2, or uploaded by the user.

AI Prompts