Through The Years: Chapter 1: Life as Nothing

Lyric has a gift. Or a curse?

     How old am I? Sometimes I have to ask myself this, so I won't forget. Because I have. Sometimes i'm six, then sixteen. Just like that. I hate it. When I look in the mirror, I don't see a reflection. Because my reflection forgot who I am. So did I.

    Chapter 1

   I'm under eighteen. And I've smoked, drank alcohol, and have an I.D. All legally.  No, I didn't bribe the law enforcement.  I used my gift. I'm an Ager, which is a person who can shift into different ages rapidly. One second i'm thirteen, the next i'm walking into a bar as a thirty-two year old. It's simple. Yet complicated and horrifying at the same time.

    I'm Lyric. That's my name, Lyric. And yes, my parents were hippies, or flower children, as they liked to be called. I am an Age Agent. Lame name, right? I know. I work for an organization who help children, who are abused, raped, or just have a crappy life. Here's how it works. I shift into the child's age. Then I become friends, finding out what is wrong in the household. Then I age about twenty years and fake being a social worker. I take the child away from the home. Thats the easy way. Its not always that simple. I've had to become four years old once just to sneak through the house, then take the kid.

  This mission I'm working on a nine year old girl who's parents have an alcohol addiction and beat her when they're drunk. Before I meet her, I shift to her age. I watch in despair as my b***s get smaller, legs get shorter, and voice gets higher. Then I walk over to her.

     "Hey, you wanna come over to my house later tonight?" I ask in the sweetest, innocent voice I could.  She nods. After school, she comes to the adress I gave her. I approach her, then shift into my nine year old self.  "Hey, Emily? Your parents aren't nice to you, is that correct?"I ask.  She pauses for a second, then she nods, tears in her eyes.

    "I can help you. I can take you to a place where you'll be safe. Would you like that?"I ask.

    "Yes,please." she whispers softly. I take her hand and lead her into the shelter.

    Afterwords, I take a walk in the park. I'm 21 now, since it's past curfew and I don't want to get in trouble. I hate my life. Sure, I help kids lives, but I want a life of my own. I want to go to school, get a boyfriend, go to college, get a job, get married, have kids, then die. But that's impossible. I can't go to school because it's too risky, I might accidently shift. Can't have a boyfriend because it'd be too hard on me, always having to hide the secret. Can't get a job because the Agency is the only one I can have. Can't have children because if I shift while i'm pregnant, it could be dangerous.

  I want to be normal. Badly. I sigh and decide to go back to the Agency, when a letter mysteriously appears at my feet. I open it and see it's adressed to me.

               Dear Lyric,

   I can help you. Just come to the alleyway between the Occult Bookstore and Fortune Shop at midnight sharp.

                  Cheers.

   My concious is screaming at me, DON'T GO, but temptations overwhelm me. I go.

       I check my watch again. 11:59. I'm 18, just to be careful. My watch beeps midnight and I look around. Then I feel a small prick at my throat, and I hit the ground, passed out.

  

 

 

 

Author's Note

REVIEW!

Reviews

[Green Regol]

If you're under 18, you can't legally get an ID that says otherwise. It's all in the paperwork - not how old you look.

--I work for an organization (that helps) children (no comma) who are --

--I watch in despair as my b***s get smaller, legs get shorter, and voice gets higher.-- How do you watch your voice get higher?

I can be wrong, but I think children who are abused don't often see themselves as abused children. The nine-year-old, while she hates it when her parents are drunk, probably loves it when they're not. When they're not drunk, they're all loving and caring and read her bedtimes stories. Unless her parents are literally drunk and beating her *all the time.*

-- Can't have children because if I shift while i'm pregnant, it could be dangerous.-- interesting thought, I didn't even think of that.

Anyways, a lot of this is telling and not "showing." I'd like to see this more fleshed out - more detail. In doing this, you might be able to get your audience to not consider Lyric an idiot for following the directions of a mysterious, incredibly suspicious note that obviously is from some sort of bad guy.
If we get more into Lyric's head, we can see just how desperate she is.
Desperation may not be convincing enough in this case, so in addition I'd have her take some precautions. Maybe she can go there with some back up, or a friend, or a gun.
Or you can change what the letter says completely. Have it say it's from a sad little child with no legs. I don't know.

Overall, unique idea. I like Lyric's name and I haven't heard of her job before. You just have to tweak some unrealistic instances.