"The Tale of the Boy-turned-Woman in the Magical Russian Salon: A Transformation Beyond Belief"

There was a boy named Ethan, a sprightly 6-year-old born in a sun-kissed spring morning of April 27, 2015. Standing at 3 feet and 8 inches tall, this young lad weighed 45 pounds, had a striking head of tousled brown hair, and blue eyes that held an unyielding curiosity. He hailed from the warmth of Alabama and although he was still only six, his dad, Jake had ceased to be a part of his life. Jake had moved out while Ethan was still an infant. Born on November 4, 1990, he was a muscular man standing at 6 feet and 2 inches tall, weighing 210 pounds. His wavy hair was dark blond, matching the hue of his stolid brown eyes. He carried the air of a free spirit, which sadly led him away from his young family. The boy’s mother, Lily, was a youthful spirit with a sincerity that loved her son immeasurably. Born on a chilly day of January 20, 1993, she was a woman of average height, 5 feet 4 inches, and weight, 150 pounds. Her chestnut brown hair fell just past her shoulders and her emerald green eyes were mirror-like, reflecting her emotions. It was her 28th year when we embark on this journey of his life. Ethan was fortunate to have his loving aunt, Roselynn, in his life. Born on August 8, 1992, she was an energetic woman of 29 years. At 5 feet 6 inches, she was slightly taller than Lily, weighed 155 pounds, and her vivid auburn hair cascading down to her waist was just as fiery as her personality. Her mahogany eyes shined with warmth and love for Ethan. His uncle Maxwell, born on July 19, 1989, was in his 32nd year and was often busy with work. He stood tall at 6 feet, weighed around 190 pounds, and his jet-black hair was always neatly cut short, contrasting against his icy blue eyes, and highlighting his sharp features. Living with them was Ethan’s grandma, adoringly called Mimi by Ethan. Born on December 5, 1950, she was a petite woman of 5 feet 1 inch and 140 pounds, 71 years old. Mimi's hair was silver-grey bun atop her head, and her faded blue eyes twinkled often by the stories she told Ethan. One day, Ethan decided to walk to the salon alone for the first time. As he pushed the door open, a Russian woman named Svetlana greeted him. She was 5 feet tall, 60 years old, born on December 10, 1960, and weighed 140 pounds. A natural redhead, her hair was cut in a Russian bob style with a fringe that highlighted her slate-grey eyes. She wore a blazer over a crisp white blouse, matched with chic ankle-cut pants and platform sandals. Her nails painted a deep red that matched her eccentric personality. A gold wedding ring adorned her finger, emblematic of love and belonging, alongside an array of jewelry gracing her neck, wrists, and ears. Svetlana disappeared into another room to fetch the required items for Ethan's haircut, leaving him with her words, "Vy pojdite, siniok, and I will come back." Ethan slipped off his shoes and socks while waiting, wandering around barefoot, for the first time taking notice of the cold floor beneath his feet. Out of his peripheral, Ethan spotted Svetlana’s large leather bag. Inside, the scattered chaos consisted of a variety of styling products, papers, accessories, and personal items – a tiny mirror, some Russian candy, lipsticks, a breath freshener, and few envelopes. “I need to go potty,” Ethan blurted out in perfect little boy English as he felt the sudden urge. He thought he had spotted a bathroom door earlier down a hallway, so he took off down the hallway with his head held high. His curiosity got the best of him while he was looking at the high walls adorned with various photographs, not paying attention to the floor. He tripped over something and stumbled. Looking down, he realized he had accidentally slipped his feet into Svetlana’s platform sandals. Terrified, he attempted to pull the sandals off, but in that moment something peculiar happened. His clothes evaporated into thin air. He tugged again at the sandals, yet they wouldn’t come off. Instead, his feet started to crack and age rapidly, and the nail color changed to match Svetlana’s. “I didn't do anything wrong, I just had to potty, I don't want to be a yucky girl,” he whimpered in frustration and fear as his small mind processed the unexpected turn of events. He felt older than his mom and aunt, nearly the same age as Mimi. The transformation continued as his hair lengthened and turned into a fiery red bob cut, his nails painted the same deep red. His body started to mature into a woman’s, and before he could discern what was happening, he found himself wearing an exact copy of Svetlana’s ensemble sans the jewelry and wedding ring. His memories started to morph; he found his English slipping away, replacing it with Russian words. Out of habit, he started singing a lullaby his mom used to sing when he was scared, “Rock-a-bye baby, on the treetop…” Slowly the lyrics changed as he transformed further, “…Bayu-Bayushki-Bayu, Nye lozhisya na kraju.” “Bayu-Bayushki-Bayu, do not lie down on the edge,” the woman hummed, looking down at her clothes. It was Svetlana, minus her jewelry and her wedding ring and her beloved platform sandals. She walked over to where her jewelry lay, putting on her earrings, necklaces, bracelets one by one, interspersing them with the hum of the lullaby. She picked up her wedding ring, slipping it on her ring finger, relishing the slight weight of it. She walked back to her platform sandals. Picking them up, she strided towards a chair and sat down, setting her sandals on the ground. Bending down, she slipped each foot into the sandals methodically, rolling the back strap behind her heel, ensuring the tight grip on her feet even as she adjusted the strap across her foot, pressing it into her arch. The stable feeling of the wooden soles, the subtle lift in her posture, every detail was enough to render her satisfied. She stood up again, adjusting her blouse, tucking it into her pants on the sides. Memories began to alter reality; she remembered removing her jewelry, platform sandals, and wedding ring because she had a long day with no customers and wanted to feel comfortable. A small chuckle escaped her lips at the ridiculous explanation. She brought her hands up to play with her bob hair, running her fingers through them. Svetlana glanced around her salon. "Chto ya yeshcho' dolzhena sdelat'?" She scratched her head, trying to remember what task was pending. Her eyes met her bag on the chair. She walked over, delved her hand into it, and pulled out a compact powder. She looked at her reflection in it and gave a small satisfied sigh. She started to tidy up her salon again, cleaning, dusting, rearranging products while stomping around in her platform sandals just to hear the thuds echoing in the empty salon. She loved the way these sandals slightly elevated her height. All the work done, Svetlana sat on her chair again, crossing her legs and looking at her wedding ring. With a smile that reached her eyes, she said out loud, "Ya lyublyu moyego muzhchina." She sighed with contentment, enjoying the quiet rumble of the salon. The slight height gained from the platform sandals always brought a playful edge to her otherwise routine life. And she now looked forward to what the rest of the day could bring to her.