humor Eternal Child (rewritten) (Prequel)

[TBCuri]

Hello All, Controversy on this story's origin. 🤔

Anyway, Just checked in to drop this tag label:

<Main: Human 65% 🤝 Tool: AI 35%>

Also No. I used it to augment the structure and a little bit of the filler. Period.

Thanks and Good luck All. 🙂

...

Prologue – The Mysterious Announcement

The first time I heard about Eternal Child Week, I thought it was some kind of prank.

A weird, government-issued meme. A pointless holiday. Maybe even a last-ditch effort to make people feel excited about something in this dull, over-scheduled world. It smelled like a distraction—one of those fake “historic moments” that ended up meaning nothing.

The announcement itself was a perfect example of that. There were press releases, official statements, news segments where talking heads in expensive suits acted like this was the biggest deal since, I don’t know, sliced bread?

And yet, no one explained what it was.

Just a bunch of vague phrases about “limitless potential” and “the dawn of a new era.”

Right. Totally buying that.

And now? I was stuck in a boiling-hot school auditorium, wedged between a hundred sweaty students who were just as uninterested as I was, all for what was basically a glorified sales pitch.

The ceiling fans whirred uselessly above us, barely stirring the thick, muggy air. Sunlight streamed in through the high windows, making the dust particles dance in the dim glow. The wooden chairs creaked whenever someone shifted, and honestly, the whole place smelled like a mix of stale air and regret.

Liana, my best friend and self-proclaimed menace to society, was sprawled out beside me like a cat who had completely given up on life. She had mastered the art of maximum limb sprawl, stretching her legs out as far as she could get away with without getting called out.

She had never once in her life sat like a normal human being.

“If this turns into one of those ‘Embrace the Future’ speeches,” she muttered under her breath, “I’m out.”

I didn’t take my eyes off the stage. “Out how? You gonna just… walk out?”

“Damn right.” She flicked her dark curls over her shoulder with an exaggerated flourish. “Might even throw in a slow-motion exit, just to make it iconic.”

I sighed, rubbing my temples. “Just… maybe don’t get expelled before lunch.”

She grinned. “No promises.”

Before I could warn her again to at least pretend to be a functioning student, the auditorium lights dimmed. The low chatter died down as the massive projector screen behind the stage flickered to life.

For a moment, all we saw was static—then the Global News Network logo flashed across the screen, followed by the impossibly polished face of a news anchor. She had the kind of voice you’d expect from a ridiculously expensive commercial, smooth and rehearsed to perfection.

"Citizens of the world," she began, speaking like she was unveiling something revolutionary. "Today marks the beginning of a historic change. In preparation for the first-ever Eternal Child Week, the government has issued the following statement."

The screen cut to a sterile-looking press room.

At the podium stood a government official—the human embodiment of serious business. His suit was crisp. His hair was perfectly combed. His face was unreadable, like he was auditioning for the role of “Man Who Has No Emotions” in some corporate drama.

"As we stand at the dawn of a new era, we must embrace both progress and reflection," he declared, his voice as dry as a PowerPoint presentation. "This week-long observance is not merely a celebration, but a recognition of limitless potential. Further details will be released in the coming days."

And then—just like that—the screen went black.

Silence.

Dead silence.

Then, a wave of groans.

Liana threw her head back so dramatically I thought she might fall out of her chair. “Ugh! That told us NOTHING!”

I leaned forward, resting my chin on my hand. “Yeah. Because they don’t want us to know anything.”

Around us, students were already pulling out their phones, fingers flying as they updated their social feeds. Memes were being made in real time. Conspiracy theories were being posted before the guy even finished his speech. Some kids whispered excitedly, coming up with wild explanations. Others just rolled their eyes and moved on with their lives.

At the front of the auditorium, our principal—who looked like he regretted his life choices—cleared his throat into the mic.

“Now, I know some of you have questions,” he said, trying way too hard to sound reassuring. “But I encourage you all to keep an open mind. More information will be provided throughout the week.”

From the back row, someone muttered, “Sure it will.”

I had to bite back a laugh.

The principal, deciding he had done more than enough for his paycheck today, sighed and waved a hand. “Alright. You may return to class.”

And just like that, the entire auditorium exploded into movement.

Chairs scraped. Bags were grabbed. Voices rose as everyone started making their way toward the exit, either relieved to be free or already lost in conversations about something completely unrelated.

Liana stretched her arms above her head with an exaggerated groan. “Well. That was a massive waste of time.”

“At least we got out of class,” I pointed out, stuffing my hands into my jacket pockets.

She wiggled her fingers dramatically. “Oooooh, at what cost, though?”

I gave her a look. “You’re ridiculous.”

“And you love me for it.”

We pushed through the crowded hallway, dodging slow walkers, side-stepping last-minute locker stops, and weaving around groups of students who were already over the whole thing. But even as I went through the motions, something nagged at me.

No one was really talking about it.

Sure, there were jokes. There were complaints. There were wild theories about aliens and secret government experiments. But there was no real concern.

No one was even asking why this holiday existed in the first place.

And that was what unsettled me the most.

I turned to Liana, keeping my voice low. “You seriously don’t think this is weird?”

“Oh, it’s weird,” she admitted. “But it’s the kind of weird where you just let it happen and hope it doesn’t get too bad.”

I gave her a flat look. “That is a terrible approach to life.”

“And yet, here I am—thriving.”

I groaned. “I hate you.”

She smirked. “You wish you did.”

When we finally reached our lockers, I hesitated.

That nagging feeling still hadn’t gone away.

The hallway around us was its usual chaotic mess—lockers slamming, footsteps echoing, students shouting to each other like they were allergic to talking at a normal volume. Somewhere in the distance, a teacher was already yelling at someone for running. It was just another school day.

But that was the thing.

This wasn’t just another day. The government had just dropped a brand-new, world-wide event into our laps with no explanation, no real buildup, and—most importantly—no obvious corporate cash grab.

And yet, everyone was already moving on.

I frowned, leaning against my locker. “This whole thing just feels off.”

Liana hummed, tapping her chin like she was actually considering my words. “What, like government conspiracy off, or boring corporate nonsense off?”

“I don’t know,” I admitted. “But if this was supposed to be some fun new holiday, wouldn’t there be sponsorships? Merch? Like—Celebrate Eternal Child Week with limited-edition Pepsi! or some garbage like that?”

She blinked. “Okay, yeah. That is kinda weird. Maybe they’re just bad at marketing?”

I shook my head. “No way. The government never rolls something out without a reason.”

Liana leaned against her locker, smirking. “You are so obsessed with this.”

"You made a twenty-minute speech about why the cafeteria should sell better snacks."

“And I stand by that,” she shot back. “But this is different. You freak out when things don’t make sense. It’s, like, your default setting.”

I frowned. “I do not—”

Liana’s eyes suddenly widened, and she let out a soft gasp.

“Oh my God,” she whispered dramatically. “You’re totally one of those noir detectives who narrate everything to themselves.”

I froze.

Oh. Oh no.

She did not just say that.

Liana’s face paled as she realized exactly what had just come out of her mouth.

Her brain had finally caught up to her own words.

“Uhh…” she stammered, stepping back slightly.

I stood perfectly still. My expression didn’t change.

Except for one thing.

I smiled.

Not a normal smile.

Not my usual, tired, deadpan smirk.

This was calm. Too calm.

The kind of calm that sent Liana’s fight-or-flight instincts into full panic mode.

She took another step back. “Wait—”

“Liana, girl~” I said sweetly. Too sweetly. “Would you like to repeat that?” My smile didn’t waver, but my eye twitched. Just a little.

Her hands immediately shot up in surrender. “Okay, let’s not do anything hasty—”

“Am I too kind to you~?” My eye twitched again.

Liana, for once in her life, shut up.

I let the silence stretch out, letting her fully absorb the weight of her mistake.

Then, with a sigh, I turned back to my locker. My smile vanished, like it had never been there.

Liana stayed frozen for a second longer before slumping against the metal, exhaling like she had just barely escaped with her life.

“Good lord,” she muttered, rubbing her arms like she had the chills. “That was terrifying.”

I smirked. “Then stop being annoying.”

“Impossible.”

The bell rang.

“C’mon, let’s go,” I said, already walking toward class.

Liana fell into step beside me, still shaking her head. “One of these days, you’re gonna give me a heart attack.”

I grinned. “Can’t wait.”

We walked toward class, weaving through the usual morning chaos. Students rushed past us, shoving textbooks into their bags at the last second, half-heartedly speed-walking to avoid getting marked late.

The normalcy of it all made my stomach twist.

It shouldn’t be normal. Not after that.

This morning, nobody had ever heard of Eternal Child Week. By lunchtime, people would probably be talking about it less than whatever ridiculous fight broke out in the cafeteria today. It was already fading into the background—just another thing happening in the world, another “big announcement” everyone would forget about in a week.

And yet…

It didn’t feel like something we were supposed to forget.

Liana nudged me. “Still overthinking it?”

I shot her a look. “It’s not overthinking if something is actually weird.”

She hummed, unconvinced. “I dunno. Maybe it’s just one of those things where the government wants to seem mysterious so people actually care? Like, ooooh, vague and spooky announcement—what does it mean?!” She wiggled her fingers in mock suspense.

I crossed my arms. “That would only make sense if they were selling something. Suspense is good for marketing, not government policies.”

“You sound like you know what you’re talking about, but I’m too lazy to fact-check.”

I rolled my eyes. “Shocking.”

She grinned, clearly proud of herself. “Look, all I’m saying is that unless the principal walks into class tomorrow and announces we’ve all been drafted into some secret immortal army, it’s probably just a dumb publicity stunt.”

I wanted to believe that.

I really wanted to believe that.

But my gut told me otherwise.

And it wasn’t just the way they had announced it—it was the reaction to it. The lack of real concern. The way it should have been a bigger deal, but wasn’t.

People weren’t brushing it off because they didn’t care.

They were brushing it off like it was something they already knew.

Like it was normal.

Like it had always been there.

A chill crept up my spine.

That wasn’t possible, right?

I mean… I was sure I had never heard of it before today. I was positive there was no mention of Eternal Child Week anywhere in the history books, no lead-up, no official talks.

But if that was true, then why—

The shrill sound of the final warning bell yanked me out of my thoughts.

“Whoops, we’re gonna be late,” Liana said, already speeding up.

I shook off the weird, creeping unease and followed. Maybe I was overthinking it. Maybe I was just looking for a mystery where there wasn’t one.

…But something told me that whatever was coming?

It wasn’t just another holiday.

And deep down, I had a feeling we weren’t ready for it.

pan widget

[TBCuri]

Chapter 1 – Just Another Monday

The first day of Eternal Child Week started like any other Monday—annoyingly loud, way too early, and full of regret.

My alarm clock barely got one beep in before I smacked the snooze button with the force of someone who deeply resented the concept of mornings.

For a few seconds, I just lay there, staring blankly at the ceiling, trying to convince myself that school was not, in fact, a government-sanctioned form of psychological warfare.

Some people start their mornings with gratitude. I start mine with resignation.

Downstairs, my little brother, Jake, was already screaming about something.

Not the “I’m in danger” kind of screaming—more like the “I am a tiny menace and I want the world to know it” kind. The kind of screaming that could only come from a four-year-old who had already had too much energy before 7 AM.

I groaned, rolling onto my side and stuffing my face into my pillow. Maybe if I stay here long enough, reality will get the hint and let me sleep in just this once.

CRASH.

Mom’s voice followed immediately after. “Jake! What did I just say?!”

I sighed. Nope. No sleeping in today.

With the grace of someone whose soul had not fully re-entered their body, I dragged myself out of bed, stretched, and forced myself through the morning routine. Shower, teeth, hair, clothes—neat and practical, as always.

Liana always teased me about my “boring” outfit choices, like I was committing some sort of fashion crime by not showing up in neon colors. But as much as she tried to convince me to “live a little,” I wasn’t about to wear anything that screamed, Look at me! I have regrets!

By the time I made it to the kitchen, the war zone was still active.

Mom stood by the counter, pinning Jake with a Mom Stare™ as he sat at the table, absolutely demolishing his breakfast like a feral animal. Toast crumbs rained down onto his plate. His juice cup was already half-spilled.

He looked up mid-bite, cheeks stuffed like a chipmunk. “Mmf?”

Mom exhaled like she had already lived an entire year this morning. “Nina, can you please talk some sense into him?”

I grabbed an apple from the counter, raising an eyebrow at my little brother. “Jake, if you keep inhaling your food like that, you’re gonna choke.”

Jake, ever the little menace, barely even blinked. “That’s quitter talk.”

Mom shot me a helpless look.

I shrugged. At this point, if natural selection wanted to have a go at him, that was between them.

A knock at the door saved me from having to attempt parenting.

Correction—a bang at the door. Followed by an even louder voice.

“NINAAAAA, OPEN UP OR I’M BREAKING IN.”

I sighed. Ah, yes. Right on schedule.

Mom closed her eyes, muttering something under her breath. Probably a prayer for patience.

I took another bite of my apple as I headed for the door. “Liana, this is a house, not a bank vault. You’re not breaking into anything.”

The door swung open before I could even reach for the knob.

Liana stood there, completely unbothered by the fact that she had just rattled the walls with her knocking. Her dark curls were slightly messy—like she had only barely run a brush through them—and she had that look on her face. The one that said she had already made questionable decisions before 8 AM.

I wasn’t ready for this.

“Okay,” she said, stepping inside like she lived here, “but imagine if I did break in.” She wiggled her eyebrows. “Super impressive, right?”

Mom gave her a tired smile. “Morning, Liana.”

“Morning, Mrs. M!” Liana waved before turning back to me. “Ready to face another pointless school day?”

“Ready to survive another school day,” I corrected.

Jake, who had somehow already finished his food and was now kicking his feet like an innocent child (lies), perked up. “Liana, tell Nina she’s boring.”

Liana gasped, clutching her chest in mock horror. “Excuse me?!” She turned to me, solemn. “As your best friend, it is my duty to say that daily.”

I rolled my eyes, grabbing my bag. “Let’s go before you infect my house with whatever unhinged energy you woke up with.”

Walking to school with Liana was always an experience.

She had exactly two walking speeds: sluggish and we’re late—with absolutely no in-between. Today, she had settled on sluggish, dragging her feet dramatically like we were on some kind of death march.

“So,” I said, side-eyeing her, “did you actually sleep last night, or did you go down another rabbit hole of Eternal Child Week conspiracy theories?”

Liana grinned. “What if I told you I found a forum thread about how this whole thing is secretly a ploy to turn us all into government experiments?”

I sighed. “I’d say that’s not how science works.”

“Or is it?” She wiggled her fingers ominously.

I ignored her.

“But, like, hear me out,” she continued, undeterred. “What if the government is testing some kind of new superpower serum—but instead of picking volunteers, they’re secretly dosing the school cafeteria food?”

I stopped walking.

She took two more steps before realizing I wasn’t beside her anymore. “What?”

I stared at her. “Liana. Be honest. Did you eat breakfast today?”

She blinked. “…No.”

I closed my eyes, exhaling. “That explains so much.”

“Okay, rude.”

I started walking again. She caught up instantly, falling back into step with me.

“Fine,” she huffed. “But you have to admit, it’s weird. They’re being way too cryptic about this whole thing.”

That, I couldn’t argue with.

Ever since the announcement last week, there had been no actual updates about what Eternal Child Week was supposed to be. No explanation, no clear reason why it even existed. Just that same vague, corporate-sounding nonsense about “limitless potential” and “the dawn of a new era.”

Which, by the way, still sounded suspiciously like a cult slogan.

Liana crossed her arms. “Think about it—if it was just another government holiday, they’d be treating it like one. You’d see ads, merch, themed snack promotions—Celebrate Eternal Child Week with limited-edition Eternal Cola!”

I snorted. “That sounds awful.”

“But real, right?”

I had to admit, she had a point. Nothing about this made sense. The government didn’t just throw around new world-wide events without some kind of clear agenda.

And yet… no one else seemed to care.

Most people at school had already brushed it off as some overhyped nonsense, like another boring “awareness month” that would come and go with barely a footnote in history.

But I had that same nagging feeling as before.

Something about it felt off.

And I wasn’t sure if I wanted to know why.

By the time we got to school, the hallways were already buzzing with conversation.

Not about tests. Not about homework. Not even about that one kid who always managed to trip over absolutely nothing at least once a week.

Nope. Today, all anyone wanted to talk about was Eternal Child Week.

Or, more specifically, how it still made no sense.

“Dude, I checked every news site last night,” someone was saying near the lockers. “Nothing. No leaked details, no insider info. Just the same old vague ‘embrace the future’ garbage.”

A girl from our history class sighed dramatically. “What if it’s some creepy social experiment and we’re all just part of a case study?”

Liana perked up. “YES, THANK YOU!” She pointed aggressively. “Someone gets it!”

I pinched the bridge of my nose. “Liana, stop encouraging conspiracy theories.”

She turned to me, dead serious. “Nina, we are teenagers. It is our duty to be dramatic and jump to conclusions.”

Before I could argue, she froze mid-step—her eyes locking onto something across the hall.

Her grip latched onto my arm like a vice.

“Oh. My. God.”

I barely had time to react before she spun me around, gripping my shoulders like she had just discovered the meaning of life.

“What now?” I asked, wary.

She pointed.

Across the hall, standing like he had just been cast in a cyberpunk anime, was Tyler.

His hair?

Neon. Electric. Blue.

Like, painfully blue. Like he had dunked his head straight into a radioactive Slushie and just embraced it.

He was standing there, casually talking to his friends, totally unbothered by the fact that he now looked like he had been personally styled by a malfunctioning AI.

I turned back to Liana. “And?”

Liana looked at me like I had just committed an unforgivable crime.

“Nina. This. Is. A. Big. Deal.”

“For who?”

“For everyone!” She gestured wildly. “The school dress code is practically allergic to fun. If he got away with that, it means I could—”

“No,” I said immediately.

“You don’t even know what I was gonna say!”

I gave her a look. “Liana, you and impulse decisions go together like fire and gasoline.”

She gasped in mock betrayal. “Rude!”

I sighed, rubbing my temples. “Just promise me you won’t dye your hair neon green out of spite.”

“I make no promises.”

“Liana.”

She grinned. “Fine, fine. I’ll at least pick a good color.”

I groaned. “That’s not what I—never mind.”

It was too early for this.

By the time we got to school, the hallways were already buzzing with conversation.

Not about tests. Not about homework. Not even about that one kid who always managed to trip over absolutely nothing at least once a week.

Nope. Today, all anyone wanted to talk about was Eternal Child Week.

Or, more specifically, how it still made no sense.

“Dude, I checked every news site last night,” someone was saying near the lockers. “Nothing. No leaked details, no insider info. Just the same old vague ‘embrace the future’ garbage.”

A girl from our history class sighed dramatically. “What if it’s some creepy social experiment and we’re all just part of a case study?”

Liana perked up. “YES, THANK YOU!” She pointed aggressively. “Someone gets it!”

I pinched the bridge of my nose. “Liana, stop encouraging conspiracy theories.”

She turned to me, dead serious. “Nina, we are teenagers. It is our duty to be dramatic and jump to conclusions.”

Before I could argue, she froze mid-step—her eyes locking onto something across the hall.

Her grip latched onto my arm like a vice.

“Oh. My. God.”

I barely had time to react before she spun me around, gripping my shoulders like she had just discovered the meaning of life.

“What now?” I asked, wary.

She pointed.

Across the hall, standing like he had just been cast in a cyberpunk anime, was Tyler.

His hair?

Neon. Electric. Blue.

Like, painfully blue. Like he had dunked his head straight into a radioactive Slushie and just embraced it.

He was standing there, casually talking to his friends, totally unbothered by the fact that he now looked like he had been personally styled by a malfunctioning AI.

I turned back to Liana. “And?”

Liana looked at me like I had just committed an unforgivable crime.

“Nina. This. Is. A. Big. Deal.”

“For who?”

“For everyone!” She gestured wildly. “The school dress code is practically allergic to fun. If he got away with that, it means I could—”

“No,” I said immediately.

“You don’t even know what I was gonna say!”

I gave her a look. “Liana, you and impulse decisions go together like fire and gasoline.”

She gasped in mock betrayal. “Rude!”

I sighed, rubbing my temples. “Just promise me you won’t dye your hair neon green out of spite.”

“I make no promises.”

“Liana.”

She grinned. “Fine, fine. I’ll at least pick a good color.”

I groaned. “That’s not what I—never mind.”

It was too early for this.

[mushy bottom]

 

Limited edition Bud Lite would be more of a joke than Pepsi.

 

 

[TBCuri]

Chapter 2 – The Day I Snapped

By Tuesday, Eternal Child Week was in full swing, and honestly? It was a disaster.

The morning assembly was—how do I even describe this? The same teachers who acted like fun was illegal were now singing and dancing on stage. And I don’t mean an awkward two-step. No, they had a full-on choreographed routine.

Liana, of course, was thriving. “This is so cursed,” she whispered, barely containing her laughter.

I stared at the horror unfolding before me. “This is prime blackmail material.”

The rest of the day was packed with one ridiculous activity after another. There was a nap-time challenge (which Liana won effortlessly because she could sleep anywhere), an art contest where we had to design Eternal Child Week outfits (she drew me as a clown, so I retaliated by drawing her as a chicken), and—most humiliating of all—a baby bottle relay race. I refused to acknowledge that one.

By lunchtime, I was mentally done. Liana, however, was still riding the chaos wave.

“Nina, hear me out,” she said as we walked home.

I groaned. “Every time you say that, my survival instincts activate.”

She grinned. “Let’s sign up for the talent show.”

I stopped walking. “Liana. No.”

“But it’s perfect! I say dumb things, you react dramatically—it’s literally our thing.”

“I already do that for free.”

“But what if there’s a prize?”

I sighed, rubbing my temples. “We’ll talk about it later.”

She smirked. “That’s not a no.”

I was doomed.

...

The next day, I was halfway through my breakfast when I heard Mom groan from the hallway.

“Jake, seriously?”

That tone told me everything I needed to know.

I turned my head just in time to see her ushering my four-year-old brother toward the bathroom. His pajama pants sagged under the weight of an unmistakably overfilled pull-up.

Jake pouted. “I didn’t feel it…”

Mom sighed, rubbing her temples. “We just potty trained you, bud.”

Jake whined as she steered him inside. I tried my best to tune out the horrors happening behind that door while I ate.

Unfortunately, Liana, who had stayed over, had no such self-preservation instincts.

She bit into her toast and tilted her head. “Wow. That’s… pungent.”

I shot her a look. “You could stop listening.”

She grinned. “But then I’d miss the experience.”

A second later, we heard my mom gag.

Jake cheerfully declared, “It’s on my leg!”

Liana choked on her toast.

I slammed my fork down. “I’m leaving.”

She wiped tears from her eyes. “Oh my God, Nina. You live in a war zone.”

I didn’t even deny it.

...

By the time we got to school, my patience was already hanging by a thread.

Then Liana got herself stuck inside one of those giant inflatable tubes from gym class.

I found her flailing like an overturned bug.

Arms crossed, I raised an eyebrow. “Do I even want to know?”

She wheezed, barely able to talk between giggles. “I… miscalculated.”

I frowned. “Miscalculated what?”

“My size.”

“…Liana.”

“Nina.”

I sighed, grabbed her arms, and yanked.

She popped out like a cork and almost took me down with her.

She beamed. “Wow. You should enter the strength contest.”

I turned around and walked away.

...

The gym was packed.

Phones were out. Students stood on chairs. The teachers looked way too confident.

The principal cleared his throat. “As part of Eternal Child Week, it is our honor to celebrate the joy of youth in this glorious year of 2047!”

Liana blinked. “That’s weirdly formal.”

“Focus on the real issue here,” I muttered.

The second he finished speaking, the lights dimmed.

Spotlights flicked on.

Someone in the crowd whispered, “Oh, this is gonna be bad.”

Then the music started.

...

The science teachers started off normal—some basic synchronized steps.

Then, out of nowhere, Mr. Hayes did a full backflip.

I choked. “Did—did he just—?!”

The crowd erupted.

“MR. HAYES IS BUILT DIFFERENT!” someone screamed.

...

The math teachers synchronized like some kind of cursed boy band.

Mr. Patel moonwalked.

Another one did the worm.

I felt my soul leave my body.

“This is not happening,” I muttered.

Someone near us whispered, “Are we sure they’re human?”

...

Then Coach Reynolds stepped up.

The second the beat dropped, he exploded into motion.

He spun, flipped, and at one point vaulted over a chair.

The crowd went feral.

“THIS MAN IS A BEAST!”

“I CAN’T BREATHE—”

Then, as the grand finale, Coach Reynolds ran up the wall and flipped off it.

I grabbed Liana’s arm. “What is happening?!”

She was losing it.

“Oh my God,” she gasped between laughs. “This is the greatest Eternal Child Week ever!”

A student near us muttered, “This isn’t Eternal Child Week. This is Eternal Anime Week.”

Another traumatized student wearing a pair of glasses replied “And this is just the first Eternal Child week..."

And that was it.

The moment I reached my limit.

...

We staggered back into the cafeteria after the horror show that was the dance-off. My brain felt fried.

I sat down, barely processing the tray of food in front of me.

Then Liana leaned in.

Her eyes sparkled with mischief.

She cupped her hands around her mouth and shouted right into my face.

“THIS IS THE BEST ETERNAL CHILD WEEK EVER!!!”

The entire cafeteria turned.

Something inside me snapped.

Without thinking, I grabbed an apple from my tray and launched it at her.

It flew. Fast.

Too fast.

Liana barely managed to dodge, her eyes widening as the apple whizzed past her ear like a bullet.

It struck another student square in the back of the head—

—and exploded on impact.

Silence.

A slow, dreadful turn.

The student touched his head, pulling his hand away like he expected to see blood. A chunk of mashed fruit slid off his shoulder with a wet plop.

“…Who,” he asked, voice strained, “just sniped me with an apple?!”

Liana, now staring at me like I was a creature, clapped a hand over her mouth to keep from laughing.

I exhaled slowly. “I needed to do that. For my sanity.”

The student, still rubbing his head, scowled. “Who throws an apple that hard?! That actually hurt-”

Another student pointed. “It came from over there.”

I immediately grabbed my tray and pretended to be fascinated by my mashed potatoes.

Liana, trembling with laughter, leaned in and whispered, “Nina. You just sniped a man.”

I groaned. “This week is going to end me.”

And just like that, Day 3 ended—completely normal.

…Except for the part where we dodged and threw things with inhuman precision.

But that? That was a problem for future us.

Edited February 27 by TBCuri
Changed the year from 3047 to 2047

[mushy bottom]

Since you asked, I'd say that by now a reader should have some idea where this is going.  I don't.  And I'd call it bizarre rather than funny.  Diaper action?

[TBCuri]

25 minutes ago, mushy bottom said:

Since you asked, I'd say that by now a reader should have some idea where this is going.  I don't.  And I'd call it bizarre rather than funny.  Diaper action?

Sorry, this is my first time writing a story, I guess I didn't gather enough data. I'm more of programming than writing (not an excuse, I know...)

I'm actually trying a slow build up.

Hmm... 🤔 Was I too subtle? I did want it to be a sudden transition, also this is a prequel for the main story UnReal Paradox, I wasn't so serious with it 😅.

Thanks for the opinion, I greatly appreciate it 😃, if you could clarify where the error is, I would totally love it 👍.

What do you think? 🤔

[Brutal_Ink]

16 hours ago, TBCuri said:

Thanks for the opinion, I greatly appreciate it 😃, if you could clarify where the error is, I would totally love it 👍.

What do you think? 🤔

I'll start by saying that you have a very strong narrative voice. Your dialogue seems believable without taking itself too seriously. Your characters are interesting, but it's sort of difficult to tell what's happening.

Exposition is not always a bad thing. We don't learn the name of the main character until the first chapter, and while it's possible to infer that the characters are in school (I would guess high school, but it could also be middle school) but that's never actually stated anywhere. We need more information about who we're dealing with and where they are. You don't have to infodump, but if you're trying to transition to something that's abnormal for the characters, we have to know what normal is first.

Overall, I'd say you're doing a good job so far. I think my biggest advice would be to slow down a little and take some time to flesh out the characters a bit. I know that Nina is more serious than Liana, and that she has a little brother named Jake who recently potty-trained. I know that Liana is a little scatter-brained and impulsive, but that's all. What are their hobbies? Are they afraid of anything? Have they been friends for a long time, or is that a recent development? Are Nina and Liana actually friends, or do they just hang out because they're in school together? If they're friends, why are they friends? Do they have any hobbies or interests in common? Is it more to do with some kind of attraction from one (or both) parties?

Just some food for thought! Good work so far!

[Babypants]

I don't have much to add to what Mushy Bottom and Brutal Ink have said.  There's good flow here, and the back and forth between the two girls seems natural.  But having the Principal reference the year 3047 really threw me.  Kids are still going to school a thousand years in the future?  They're still carrying cell phones?  This doesn't make any sense, so I wondered if it was a joke that I simply wasn't getting.  If one of the girls had said this, I would have thought that she was being sarcastic, but the Principal?

In global terms, most stories that appear here don't pass the smell test because the setting is vague, and the characters cardboard cutouts.  Even more rare is character development during the course of the story.  In this regard, you've made a good start because your principal characters are well defined individuals, but on the flip side the setting does need work.  How old are the girls?  And how the heck could this be taking place in the 31st century when the interplay between them, and the background that we see, is so late 20th - early 21st century America?

[TBCuri]

On 2/16/2025 at 3:52 PM, Brutal_Ink said:

I'll start by saying that you have a very strong narrative voice. Your dialogue seems believable without taking itself too seriously. Your characters are interesting, but it's sort of difficult to tell what's happening.

Exposition is not always a bad thing. We don't learn the name of the main character until the first chapter, and while it's possible to infer that the characters are in school (I would guess high school, but it could also be middle school) but that's never actually stated anywhere. We need more information about who we're dealing with and where they are. You don't have to infodump, but if you're trying to transition to something that's abnormal for the characters, we have to know what normal is first.

Overall, I'd say you're doing a good job so far. I think my biggest advice would be to slow down a little and take some time to flesh out the characters a bit. I know that Nina is more serious than Liana, and that she has a little brother named Jake who recently potty-trained. I know that Liana is a little scatter-brained and impulsive, but that's all. What are their hobbies? Are they afraid of anything? Have they been friends for a long time, or is that a recent development? Are Nina and Liana actually friends, or do they just hang out because they're in school together? If they're friends, why are they friends? Do they have any hobbies or interests in common? Is it more to do with some kind of attraction from one (or both) parties?

Just some food for thought! Good work so far!

Thanks a lot 👍🏻, I'll take note of that 😃.

On 2/16/2025 at 4:33 PM, Babypants said:

I don't have much to add to what Mushy Bottom and Brutal Ink have said.  There's good flow here, and the back and forth between the two girls seems natural.  But having the Principal reference the year 3047 really threw me.  Kids are still going to school a thousand years in the future?  They're still carrying cell phones?  This doesn't make any sense, so I wondered if it was a joke that I simply wasn't getting.  If one of the girls had said this, I would have thought that she was being sarcastic, but the Principal?

In global terms, most stories that appear here don't pass the smell test because the setting is vague, and the characters cardboard cutouts.  Even more rare is character development during the course of the story.  In this regard, you've made a good start because your principal characters are well defined individuals, but on the flip side the setting does need work.  How old are the girls?  And how the heck could this be taking place in the 31st century when the interplay between them, and the background that we see, is so late 20th - early 21st century America?

 I was actually experimenting... 

Thanks for pointing that out though, It's fixed now. 😃

Chapter 3, currently being refined...

[TBCuri]

Chapter 3 – What The Heck? Seriously?!

Day 4

Nina’s morning kicked off with a scream.

Not a normal scream.

The kind of scream you only hear when someone’s either seen a ghost or done something ridiculously dumb.

“I DID IT!!!”

Jake’s voice echoed through the house like he had just won an epic battle.

Nina groaned into her pillow. “Congratulations, buddy, you’ve peaked.”

From the kitchen, her mom barked, “Nina, get up! You’re gonna be late!”

“I know!” she shot back, dragging herself out of bed like a zombie. Her entire soul protested the movement, but she forced herself up anyway, shuffling toward the bathroom half-conscious.

One splash of cold water later, she glared at her reflection. Her hair looked like it had lost a fight with an electrical outlet. Her oversized T-shirt—with a faded cartoon character she barely remembered—hung off her shoulder like it had given up on life. She looked exactly how she felt.

Dragging a brush through her tangled mess of hair, she muttered, “This is totally fine. I’m fine.”

She was not fine.

A few minutes later—after throwing on her uniform, cramming her backpack with zero organization, and shoveling toast into her mouth—she bolted out the door, barely making it to the bus stop.

The bus door hissed open, and Nina stumbled inside, out of breath. Liana was already there, earbuds in, scrolling her phone like the embodiment of calm. When she looked up and saw Nina, she grinned.

“You look like you got wrecked by a vacuum cleaner,” she said, tossing a chip at her.

With zero effort, Nina caught it mid-air and ate it. “Jake finally conquered the toilet,” she deadpanned. “I lost my sanity in the process.”

Liana cackled. “A worthy sacrifice.”

Their bus rides were always this shared misery. They had been best friends since third grade—ever since Nina’s legendary death glare scared off the kid who had stolen Liana’s lunch. From that moment on, their friendship had been the perfect mix of Liana’s reckless chaos and Nina’s fraying sanity.

Liana suddenly nudged her. “Ever think about what you’d do if something insanely weird went down?”

Nina side-eyed her. “Liana, we live in a world where school starts at 7 AM. Weird happens all the time.”

“No, like, seriously weird—like waking up in an alternate universe or suddenly getting superpowers.”

“…What were you watching last night?”

Liana hesitated.

Nina folded her arms. “Girl. You need to chill on the sci-fi.”

Liana shrugged. “Joke’s on you. Sci-fi is life.”

The school day started like every other slow descent into madness. Teachers droned on. Students pretended to care. Liana, as usual, wasn’t even trying. She spent the entire first period doodling questionable stick figures in her notebook while Nina actually attempted to take notes.

By third period, Nina had given up.

By lunch, she was questioning her entire existence.

“This week is never going to end,” she muttered, stabbing at her tray of unidentifiable cafeteria food.

Liana, as always, was unbothered. Balancing a spoon on her nose, she grinned. “Look on the bright side—at least no one’s forcing us to drink out of baby bottles today.”

Nina groaned. “Don’t remind me.”

Liana snorted. “Still can’t believe you refused to participate.”

“I refuse to acknowledge that event ever happened.”

“You’re no fun.”

“I like to think of it as self-respect.”

Liana rolled her eyes and took another bite of her sandwich. “Anyway, I had a weird dream last night.”

Nina raised an eyebrow. “Please don’t say it involved government experiments.”

“Worse.”

“…Worse?”

Liana leaned in dramatically. “What if Eternal Child Week isn’t just a holiday? What if it’s—”

Nina immediately held up a hand. “Nope. Shutting that down.”

Liana pouted. “You didn’t even let me finish!”

“I have a stress limit, and you are dangerously close to exceeding it.”

Liana smirked. “I live to test your patience.”

Nina sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. “One day, Liana. One day.”

The bell rang, signaling the start of fourth period.

 

---

 

Nina was on her way to class, mind fully checked out, when it happened.

One second, everything was normal.

The next?

A glowing screen materialized out of thin air right in front of her face.

She stopped dead in her tracks. Her brain short-circuited.

“…What.”

The screen hovered in the air, impossible to ignore.

---

Congratulations! You are now an Eternal Child! Accept your transformation with grace…

---

She blinked. Once. Twice.

It was still there.

She turned her head, but no one else seemed to notice the literal glowing notification floating in front of her face.

Before she could even begin to process, a strange warmth spread through her body. A warmth that sank into her bones. Her heart stuttered.

Then—

Her clothes started glowing.

“Oh, no.”

The fabric shifted around her, morphing into something totally different. Her skirt shrank. Way, way shorter. Her blouse melted away, twisting into something pastel and frilly. Her shoes transformed into tiny, cartoonish sneakers.

The hallway around her felt wrong. Like it was too big. Like the world had just zoomed out.

Her stomach dropped.

Wait—did everything get bigger?

She held up her hands. Smaller. A bit pudgy.

Nope.

It wasn’t the hallway.

She was shrinking.

Panic clawed at her throat. Her legs wobbled. Her entire body felt alien.

And then—

Her stomach flipped. A wave of pure nausea slammed into her.

Before she could fight it—

She threw up. Everything. Her entire breakfast. Right there. In the middle of the hallway.

Her vision spun. Her legs gave out.

And then—

Darkness.

 

---

 

Meanwhile, in another classroom, Liana was doing absolutely nothing productive. Which, to be fair, was normal.

She slouched in her chair, scrolling her phone, barely paying attention to whatever the teacher was rambling about.

And then—

A glowing screen popped up right in front of her face.

---

Congratulations! You are now an Eternal Child! Accept your transformation with grace…

---

Liana blinked. Then squinted. Then tilted her head.

“Uh… excuse me?” she mumbled.

No one else reacted.

She waved a hand through the screen. It didn’t move.

“…Huh.”

Before she could question it further, a strange warmth spread from her fingertips to her toes.

Her hoodie and jeans shimmered—then melted away. In their place?

A super pink dress. With a lacy collar. And ribbons. And frills.

Liana froze.

Her combat boots vanished, replaced by sparkly flats that screamed childhood nostalgia. The room shifted.

Or rather—

She shrunk.

Her desk stretched upward, looming over her like a giant’s furniture. Liana’s stomach dropped.

Her voice came out soft. “What the hell—”

So. Soft.

Liana’s eye twitched.

Her stomach flipped. Before she could even process what was happening—

She puked. Everywhere.

Her entire breakfast, gone.

The world tilted. Her head spun.

And then—

Everything went black.

Edited March 4 by TBCuri

[dmavn]

I approve.. Truck kun is used waaay too much

Now to see if this was just the two of them or half the school…

[TBCuri]

On 3/6/2025 at 3:42 AM, dmavn said:

I approve.. Truck kun is used waaay too much

Now to see if this was just the two of them or half the school…

😄

Chapter 4 In progress...