Forgotten Innocence: Gage's Terrifying Transformation into Zelda

Gage Creed blinked awake, the soft shields of his eyelashes parting like curtains. His small fingers clutched the edge of a blanket, worn and faded with time, as he stretched out his limbs within the confines of a bed much larger than he was accustomed to. The room smelled of dust and shadows, dim light slanting across unfamiliar walls. He sat up, tiny brow furrowed, a picture of innocent confusion. Gage was dressed in a cozy pair of blue pajamas, adorned with brightly colored dinosaurs marching playfully across the fabric. His hair, a tousled halo of blond, framed his cherubic face, and his eyes, wide with childlike curiosity, mirrored the azure of an afternoon sky. His voice, when he spoke, was the soft, melodic cadence of a child. “Where’s Mommy?” he murmured to the empty room, feeling the beginnings of unease prickling at the edges of his consciousness. The air was heavy with the kind of silence that pulls at the strings of time, stretching moments into an eternity. As he swung his legs over the side of the bed, a chill danced across his skin, each draught carrying with it a peculiar sensation that nestled into the marrow of his bones. His feet touched the floor—only, they were not quite his feet. They were longer, slimmer, with a curvature foreign to his memory. Fear flickered in Gage’s eyes, but he could not tear his gaze away as his hands followed suit, fingers elongating unnaturally, nails hardening into jagged tips. His skin, once soft with the bloom of youth, warped beneath a tapestry of unsightly veins, drawing taut across limbs that grew longer, spindlier. His spine twisted inward as though a puppeteer was pulling strings from within, forcing him into a painful arch. This contortion molded him cruelly, creating a hunch that was reminiscent of suffering borne too long. He clutched at his throat, a rasping cough escaping as his voice box recalibrated into something eerie, a voice that cracked with age and malice. “Mommy!” His plea grated out of a mouth that lengthened, teeth sharpening like a wolf’s maw, a piteous cry diminishing into a hollow echo. Gage stumbled—no, Zelda shuffled—a blanket of long, stringy hair falling over eyes that darkened into pools of resentment and sorrow. In the mirror across the room, a sinister parody of a woman stared back at him—a grotesque silhouette of spindly limbs and sunken eyes. His—no, her—clothes had transformed, the once soft pajamas morphing into a nightdress tinged with neglect and abandonment. Holding the mirror's edge, the reflection of Gage dissolved, leaving only Zelda, an embodiment of anguish. But the Wendigo is as cunning as it is merciless, and with its whispers, it wove new threads into Zelda’s mind. Memories, not his own, filled the voids, mature with bitterness and anger. Her lips curled with contempt, understanding nothing of innocence, knowing only recollection and resentment. Zelda’s eyes narrowed with wrathful clarity, her body a grotesque symphony of trembling rage. “RACHEL! You did this to me, Rachel!” she spat, the words a poisonous mantra. The room shuddered with her vitriol, and any trace of Gage—of his youth, of his purity—was erased, buried under the persona of haunted memories, the past reawakened with malevolent vigor.

Title: A Vile Transformation In the heart of the mystical lands from "The Legend of Zelda", a peculiar shift had occurred. Gage Creed, the little boy from the 2019 horror remake of "Pet Sematary", slowly opened his eyes, blinking against the strange surroundings. He was not in familiar territory at all. He found himself nestled under a dainty, intricate quilt on a bed that was most certainly foreign to him. Gage was a petite boy with a mess of blonde hair that tumbled over his wide, guileless blue eyes. His voice was soft and sweet, like marshmallows melting over a gentle fire. He donned a worn, striped pajama ensemble; innocuous and innocent in its endearing representation of his youth. Perplexed, Gage sat up and glanced around the room. He noticed his own reflection staring back from the bedroom mirror. As a sense of puzzlement washed over him, he whispered, "Mommy!" into the silence. Then suddenly, a chilling wind snaked into the room, filling the space with an eerie energy. It was the Wendigo; a dreaded spirit that would bring forth a shocking transformation. Gage's gentle, innocent feet started to morph before his eyes into bony limbs attached to grotesquely knobby knees. His hands clutched the bed at the change, the soft skin ageing, the slender fingers gnarling into clawed appendages. His body twitched and contorted as muscles hardened and bones jutted, reshaping him. As his spine arched cruelly, a grotesque and pronounced hunchback took form above his shoulders. His sweet voice, once lilting and lovely, warbled and deepened, ending in a spiteful growl. His once cornflower blue eyes darkened considerably, morphing into a pervading black, frightened and malicious at the same time. His soft blonde hair turned coarse and austerely black, matching the eerie transformation of his eyes. Finally, his pajamas expanded, becoming a billowy white nightgown, unadulterated in its horror, still pristine and eerie against his grotesque form. Gage shuddered, his transformation complete but his memory distorted. His innocence had vanished, replaced by macabre maturity. Thoughts not his own filled his mind, feelings that weren't his swam within him. He had become Zelda. He moved toward the mirror, his gait less than graceful, a collection of horrifying jerks and shudders. Horror cast in his now-black eyes, he looked at the changed reflection he could not recognize. "RACHEL!" the new Zelda spat out with the same newfound malevolence, her voice resounding within the room. "You did this to me, Rachel!" The words echoed ominously, hitting a chord within her newly formed memory. Gage Creed was no more, replaced utterly and completely by the repulsive, chilling entity living as Rachel's sister Zelda. His innocence was but a forgotten ghost, haunting tales of the past.