Twisted Reflections: Gage's Dark Descent into Zelda's Nightmarish World

The morning light filtered through the thin curtains, casting a dim glow across the dusty room. Gage Creed blinked awake, his small round face shadowed with confusion as he looked around at the unfamiliar surroundings. The room felt too cold, too foreign, as if the walls themselves whispered secrets in a language he couldn't understand. Gage, dressed in faded blue pajamas that were slightly too big for his three-year-old frame, swung his legs over the side of the bed. His blonde, tousled hair fell over his eyes as he peered around. With his innocent blue eyes wide open, he noticed the room was antiquated, with old floral wallpaper and furniture that looked like it belonged in another era. And then he realized—this wasn't his room. "Mommy?" Gage's voice was small, a high-pitched, gentle sound that echoed softly. The air around him shifted, almost imperceptibly, and he felt a chill slither down his spine. He blinked, his vision blurring for a moment. When it cleared, he noticed something was different—subtler shadows seemed to dance along the edges of his vision. He rubbed his eyes with his chubby fists, trying to dispel the strange sensation. But then it began—the transformation, insidious and slow. Gage's hands grew, tiny fingers elongating into thin, bony digits. He whimpered as his feet too stretched outwards, the skin tightening and toes twisting eerily. His small, round shoulders hunched, vertebrae shifting beneath his tender skin, pulling him into a crooked, awkward posture. His pajamas began to sheer away as if woven from cobwebs, replaced by an old, threadbare nightgown, yellowed with age and illness. Gage's voice, once sweet and innocent, took on a raspy quality, scratchy and pained. "Mommy!" he cried again, but it was less a plea and more an accusation, the child's voice drowned in a sea of bitterness and anger—not his own but someone else's creeping within. Looking into the mirror across the room, Gage's bright blue eyes widened in horror. His reflection was no longer his own. Sunken eyes, clouded with resentment, stared back at him from a face gaunt and hollow. Dark hair, greasy and tangled, hung limply over a drawn, skeletal visage that wasn't his. The Wendigo's whispers slithered around him, wrapping his mind in its cruel embrace, altering the laughter in his memories into cries, innocence twisting into the vengeful resentment of another. "Mommy! Ow! Mommy! M—" he stumbled, the word slipping away as the transformation seized hold of everything he was. His mind fogged, and clarity emerged—the memories of a childhood spent in agony, a sister who had abandoned. "RACHEL! RACHEL! YOU DID THIS TO ME! THIS IS ALL YOUR FAULT!" The reflection grinned back, satisfied and hateful, Gage Creed lost to the echoes of Zelda's torment.

In the ethereal landscape of an alien habitation, Gage Creed, from the 2019 reiteration of Pet Sematary, stirred in confusion. He found himself in an unfamiliar bed, that of Zelda's. His cherubic face bore the signs of faint disorientation, expecting the familiarity of his own bedsheet. His blond wisps of hair were tousled, his azure eyes squinting at the alien surroundings. His little voice, innocent and pure, echoed quietly, "Where am I?" Dressed in what seemed like a simple pair of blue-checkered pajamas, he was the emblem of untouched childhood innocence. Slowly, a chilling change began to imbue his very being. It started with his feet — the toes shifting and taking the repulsive form of the wendigo’s. His skin turned unnaturally pallid, a chilled marble contrasted by grotesque toe nails that resembled scalene shards of stained glass. His small, tender hands morphed next, fingers elongating, knuckles bulging out against the alien transformation, veined, and skeletal. The transformation proceeded upward, his small body shifting unnaturally, a grotesque hunch manifesting itself onto his spine. An eerie heart wrenching growl abducted his innocent voice, replacing it with a raspier, sinister tone that seemed to resonate with Zelda's twisted bitterness. His eyes dulled, the bright blue hue ebbing away, leaving behind a muddy brown, detesting the world for the curse that it bestowed upon his innocence. His blond hair rapidly darkened, laden with a grizzliness that signified age and abandoned misery, standing in stark contrast to his remaining youth. Gage's form warped further - his clothes transforming into a long, lace-trimmed white nightdress that Zelda used to wear, clutching tighter around his newly formed hunched back. Harrowed, he stumbled towards the mirror and peered into it, only to be met with an unimaginable reflection. "Mommy!" Gage pleaded, his voice choked with terror. But just as he called out, his memories began to flicker. Images of his past life as Gage fading; replaced by Zelda's painful existence. His pleas for comfort transformed to accusations as the wendigo further washed away any remnants of his innocence, maturing and twisting his memories. "Mommy! Ow! Mommy! M...RACHEL!" His accusations filled the room. "RACHEL! YOU DID THIS TO ME! THIS IS ALL YOUR FAULT!" In the mirror, staring back at him stood Zelda, and Gage was no more. Never having existed, his memories were not his own, but those of a hunchbacked spiteful girl, filled with resentment, pain and bitterness. As survival instinct kicked in, he embraced his new reality, leaving behind no trace of the innocent boy he once was, Gwen Creed's 'Gage', forever lost and replaced by Zelda, the haunting embodiment of the wendigo.