Title: The Transformation of a Lost Soul in the Enchanted Woods Once upon a time in the year 2021, there was a young 6-year-old boy named Tommy. Tommy had a cherubic face with rosy cheeks, standing a

In the year 2021, a bright-eyed and bushy-tailed 6-year-old boy, Eli Thompson, was bursting at the seams with youthful energy and boundless curiosity. Born on August 7, 2015, in the verdant state of Washington, Eli’s small stature of 3 feet 9 inches and a weight of 45 pounds did not hinder his adventurous spirit. His hair, a thick mop of chestnut brown, often styled into an absurdly adorable bowl cut, framed bright blue eyes that sparkled with mischief and warmth. Eli was the cherished son of a young mother, Kayla Thompson, a vibrant woman with a youthful, sprightly spirit that defied her 24 years of age. Born on December 17, 1996, Kayla was a slender woman with a height of 5 feet 4 inches and a weight of 120 pounds. Her deep auburn hair, often worn loosely, complemented her warm hazel eyes. Eli’s father, Brad Rogers, was absent from their lives. Despite not being present, the traces of his influence were tangible. Brad was a heavily built man of 27, with a height of 6 feet and a weight of 198 pounds. His characteristic jet-black hair and piercing blue eyes, a feature he shared with Eli, had left an indelible mark on their son. In Eli's young life, the absence of his father was compensated for by the presence of his aunt, Lucy Thompson, a lively and cheerful woman of just 27. Born on June 16, 1993, Lucy stood at 5 feet 6 inches and weighed about 135 pounds. Her espresso-colored hair was typically worn in a stylish bob that offset her striking green eyes. Eli's uncle, Tom Thompson, was always too absorbed in his work to be there for him. Tom with his 6 feet 2 inches frame weighed around 210 pounds. His born day fell on March 1, 1990, which made him 31 years old that year. He had wavy sandy-hued hair and deep-set brown eyes that mirrored his serious demeanor. The influence of Eli’s loving grandmother, Rose Thompson, a 55 years old woman born on February 4, 1966, was also profoundly felt. Rose, in her 5 feet 3 inches with a weight of 160 pounds, was the pillar of the family. Her salt-and-pepper hair was styled into a neat bun, and her gentle gray eyes held a wealth of wisdom. One evening, as Eli ventured home alone for the first time, he found himself in a deserted and rather sketchy woodland. The tight confining feel of his shoes and socks suddenly began troubling him. He decided to alleviate his discomfort by taking them off. As he wandered, barefoot, he chanced upon a peculiar old rolling bag strewn around the path. Overcome by curiosity, he went through the bag. Inside, he found an odd assortment of items – a tarnished mirror, an old, worn woolen blanket, faded photographs, a frayed makeup compact, a worn-out doll with missing eyes, moth-eaten clothes coupled with tattered feminine garments, i.e., an old pink blouse with numerous holes, a polka-dotted skirt faded by the sun, and several haphazardly discarded accessories. It dawned on Eli that these things belonged to a woman and an unsettling thing to comprehend. Suddenly, a sense of discomfort washed over him. "It's getting thcary out here. I wanna go home," Eli lisped worriedly. He decided to pick up pace, keeping his head held high. But, in his hurry, his foot hit something hard and before he could regain his balance, he went sprawling onto the ground. Looking down, he realized he had hit a pair of open-toed, once white but now smudged and grimy, women’s shoes and somehow managed to slip them on his tiny feet. Panicked, Eli attempted to remove the shoes when something terrifying happened. His clothes dissipated into thin air leaving him naked and frightened. His feet inside the shoes began to crack and change, slowly morphing into a woman's feet with bent and sprained toes and nasty bruises appearing from nowhere. He frantically slipped out of the shoes, but that didn’t stop the horrifying metamorphosis. "I'm gonna miss mommy and grandma tho much. I didn't do anything wrong. I just wanted to go home. I don't wanna be a icky girl," Eli lisped as tears streamed down his dirt-streaked face. To soothe himself, he started humming a song his mother had taught him when he was scared – Hickory Dickory Dock - a lullaby he felt would somehow connect him to his mother in this terrifying situation. As the changes continued, his body began morphing to mirror the woman whose belongings he had found. Cuts, sprains, and stains appeared on his skin as a matted, skimpy, and torn outfit formed around him. It was icky and worn, a snug cotton blouse that was now stained to an indistinguishable color and a faded skirt that was almost threadbare at places. His memories started to glitch, fragments of days spent playing, laughing got replaced by distorted images of a woman's life. His once melodious, childlike voice began distorting into a gruff, raspy tone. His childish fears warped into scarred memories and regrets of a woman. The once familiar song morphed into a nonsensical ramble about "foil candy," whoever that was going through her things. Suddenly, an old homeless woman, known as Madge Carey, was standing in his place. Born on November 12, 1950, significantly older than Eli's grandma, the 70-year-old woman was marked unmistakably by the harsh grooming of life. She stood at 5 feet 2 inches, drastically underweight at around 98 pounds. Her once vibrant chestnut brown hair was now a matted grey profusion, unkempt and dirt-streaked. Behind her squinting blue eyes was a story untold for decades. Madge began wandering aimlessly through the forest, staying near her stuff. She had been homeless for over 10 years, her mind often lost itself to the paranoia of schizophrenia. Her clothes were as torn and faded as they were for the young boy. Madge's mind connected non-existent dots, speaking to objects, as if they were people, believing them to be plotting against her. Overwhelmed with the need to relieve herself, she unceremoniously threw her purse on the ground and bolted towards a nearby tree. Attempting to use the tree as makeshift lavatory, she made a mess. Regathering her torn dignity, she covered herself best she could before returning to her purse. Rummaging through the rolling bag again, she picked out random objects- a half-used lipstick, a paper crown from a forgotten festival, an old tin can- talking to them, accusing them of stealing, of lying. Her reality shifted, transforming the small innocent boy to a homeless and schizophrenic woman. She had no memory of being the terrified 6-year-old Eli. Instead, she was convinced that a little boy had affirmed her conspiracy theories. She blamed her purse for manipulating reality and hated the imagined trespassers. The terrified boy was now replaced by a delusional 70-year-old woman, schitzophrenic and homeless, who just spotted her own stuff in the deserted woods. One last flash of the little boy’s face onboard her confounded mind, convincing her that Eli had told her the truth about these deceiving objects. She walked through the forest, carrying the heavy burden of an old woman's life with no memory of the boy she once was.