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by Jacky
Rated: E · Fiction · Contest Entry · #2259120
Flash Fiction
The Transition

“What happened here?” thought James, looking up at what he assumed was the ceiling. He was very tired, barely able to keep his eyes open, it didn’t look like his bedroom ceiling. Was he a guest at someone’s house and had forgotten? His memory couldn’t have gotten that bad, could it? Oddly the thought made him grin. He was a hundred and six, he had to stop worrying about being forgetful.

Before this entire conversation with himself played out more, he was fast asleep again.

The next time he woke he seemed to be speeding through the air. Now this must be a dream he thought. Deciding to just enjoy it, he focused his eyes on the journey. Well, he tried. He must have just as bad of eye sight in his dreams, as in his real life, everything was a blur of colors, and he didn’t have his glasses. He seemed to be in a strange vehicle too, soft and covered with cloth and the radio was on, some woman talking softly. Too bad it was just a dream. He’d listen to this station all the time if it was real, the woman had a very lovely voice.

Suddenly he grew even more tired. More tired than he’d ever been in all the years of his long life. But then just as suddenly, he was not tired at all, and just as suddenly he realized he was not dreaming. Suddenly he reached the moment when he was ready, really ready, to stop being James.

James opened his eyes once more, but they were really Alma’s eyes now. Alma’s brand new baby eyes. Alma blinked, trying to focus on the person she had been listening to, off and on, for all the months she waited to be born.

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