I died going 40 miles an hour down the M8 motorway in Glasgow. Some little bastard with a death wish came speeding down like a demon from hell. Probably someone I taught, knowing my luck.
Being a teacher in an inner-city school means that you meet all types of children, a lot of whom would find it fun to speed down the motorway. Not that I didn't like the little idiots, I did. But when they do shit like this, it's hard not to want to shout at them.
I frown, looking around at my surroundings. I was in a corridor that seemed to expand forever. On both sides of me there are dark green wooden doors that contrast with the light grey of the wall. These doors seem to go on forever, every single one of them green, every single one of them closed.
I try to open the door to my left. It's locked. As is the door to my right. I pick a direction and continue down the corridor, trying to open each of the doors.
This corridor isn't exactly heaven, or Valhalla, or any of the afterlives that I've ever heard of. And I can still think (therefore, I am), so the atheists aren't right. I could still be alive, though something is telling me that that is not the case.
So…yay for being agnostic?
As I surmised as a teenager, I was never going to come to an outright conclusion on the matter of theology, though I'll still debate it until my heart gives out.
Literally, in this case.
I felt a presence behind me and turn around almost violently as I try to defend myself. There was no need to, but I still felt on edge. My eyes widen as I take in the form of three women, one slightly ahead of the other two. They are triplets, identical in more way than one, and if I had been given pictures of them, I would have said they were the same person. They were wearing sleeveless red dresses with a slit at the side which showed their stockings. Those stockings had a dagger tucked in each of them.
I swallow, somehow knowing that they were too powerful for me, that they would beat me in a fight, dagger or no dagger. They saunter up, smiling at me seductively all at the same time in what was a surprisingly creepy way.
Then they start to merge. I rub my eyes to make sure I'm not imagining things. I've never seen anything like it. For every step that they take, the women at the back start to merge with the woman in the front. They, she, smirks at my confusion, only stopping when she became one person, which only took about twenty seconds. I guess becoming one person doesn't take as long as it sounds.
The woman slows down, sliding her hands against each of the doors on one side. She frowns, either because she is remembering something, or she is considering something. Unsurprisingly, she is hard to read.
The woman turns around and points at me. My heart races wondering what spell she will cast. Perhaps she will turn me to ash or gold or lead, or perhaps she'll make it so that I have never existed. That seems like something she would be able to do.
I watch as her finger slowly curls, beckoning me to come to her. My feet automatically start to follow her order, though whether out of fear or some magical incantation, I don't know. I watch her as I walk forth. She has dark brown hair and almost translucent blue eyes. Her skin is pale like mine, though unlike mine, hers is a paleness that almost seems sickly in the torchlight.
I blink at that thought, looking at her right hand. She has a torch, though I was sure no torch had been there beforehand. She smiles at me again, though this time there is a pitying look in her cold blue eyes.
She reaches for something below, and I start, thinking she will reach for the dagger, the absurdity of fearing death while dead only dawning on me later. She doesn't even pause however, and instead reaches for her other stocking, pulling out a golden key that seems to glow.
With the key, the woman opens the door in front of us in one smooth movement, stowing away the key in another movement.
Suddenly she looks at me, this time maliciously, and a shiver runs through me – this was not a woman I wanted glaring at me ever again. She grabs me with her free hand, her strength supernatural, before pushing me just in front of the door.
I suppose if one of my students saw me now, they would laugh. After all, some 5'6 slight woman man-handling a 6-foot broad shouldered guy was not something you see every day.
She whispers in a voice that is magical to my ears, and it suddenly occurs to me that she'd have an amazing singing voice, better than Sinatra if she tried!
"Do not tell them their fates! This is my only command! Now go! And may you be blessed in your adventures"
She slams a hand into my chest, and it burns so much that I can almost feel it imprinting onto me. I try to scream, every atom in my body tries to scream, but I can't, I'm not allowed, and that might just hurt me more than the pain itself.
…
…
Where am I?
…
…
I'm shaking, though not of pain I notice.
…
…
"Ladies and gentlemen, the Captain has turned on the fasten seat belt sign. We are now crossing a zone of turbulence. Please return your seats and keep your seat belts fastened. Thank you."
…
As soon as I here this announcement, I notice a few things. The first is that I'm on a plane, which is made obvious by the announcement. The second is that I'm smaller than normal, the fat and muscle that I'm not even used to noticing is gone, and I'm having trouble even using my hands, my brain not used to whatever body I'm in. The third thing I notice comes after I exam my body, hoping that I'm just having a bad dream.
I have breasts. Not even the man titties I had as a teen, but the full-on milk-producing, woman-like breasts.
…
What the fuck!?
…
No. Like, what the actual fuck!?
…
I look down at my hands, at my legs, at my long brown hair, and realise that I'm a woman.
Or my body's a woman?
Or something like that.
What was I going to do? There's treatment for this type of thing, right? Though walking around without a cock is going to be hard, testosterone or not. Maybe I can just stay a woman. Can't be too bad, right? As long as I'm in a place where lesbianism is allowed, I'll be okay. Wait. What if this body likes men? Is that possible. Because that might be weird. And what if –
A burning torch burns brightly in my mind. The woman holding it has a wry smile on her face. She winks at me, and slowly, my consciousness comes back, and my panic is forgotten. It's not as though I'm suddenly a woman, but I'm used to this body, almost like I've been here for years. From what I remember of all those fanfictions I've read, it could be this muscle memory that all the SI's are given by Alien Space Bats – though I have a feeling that I should never call the woman that.
I am going to learn how to be a woman though. Like, how does one use make-up? And do girls not do something with their hair? And I am not even thinking about periods yet. Just. Like. No. Fuck off.
I take a few minutes to look through the stuff I have with me after my panic is over. It's fairly simple stuff: water, snacks, books etc. All the things people normally bring on an airplane, so that doesn't tell me anything, except that the person whose body this is has good tastes in books. She has Shakespeare, which is always good, and Wuthering Heights, which, though not my favourite, is a good book.
I keep looking through the bag, not finding much, and I'm about to give up when I find something that makes me breathe in sharply in anticipation.
A plane ticket.
I quickly turn it around and look at the name.
Isabella Marie Swan
"Oh, fuck off!"
