Tyler was the kind of student who thought he had everything figured out. Majoring in sports media, always first pick in pickup games, and worshiping the local basketball team like they were gods, he considered himself halfway to fame. His idol? Derrick Vance — the star forward of the campus team, known not just for his scoring, but for always rocking a pair of rare Nike Jordans 4s, black with crimson trim.
One muggy afternoon, while wandering through the older part of town, Tyler stumbled across a thrift store he swore he’d never seen before. “Second Time Around,” read the faded wooden sign. Curiosity tugged at him like a whisper. The bell above the door jingled as he stepped into the dim, dust-hung air.
In the far corner, beneath a flickering fluorescent light, he spotted them: the exact pair of Jordans. Worn down just right, a little scuffed on the heel — they had to be one Derrick’s old pairs, since the team regularly donated equipment to local thrifts stores. A small golden signature with Derrick’s initials. No price tag. Just sitting there. Waiting.
Glancing around and seeing no one — not even a clerk — Tyler snatched them up and headed to the back of the store where a cracked full-length mirror leaned against a wall.
He sits down on a chair, kicked off his Vans, slid his feet into the shoes, and stood tall. The fit was perfect, but the shoes heated up quickly and soon Tyler felt an uncomfortable sensation in his limbs. He stands up stretching and turns to the mirror. The light changes, no longer in the creepy old thrift store, but a clean and bright room, Tyler looked at himself in disbelief and excitement. A dreamlike new reality, to good to be true before it collapsed.
For a moment, he actually looked… better. His jawline seemed sharper, his frame leaner. His stubble filled in into a dark, full beard. His chest swelled. Muscles pressed against his shirt. “Damn,” he muttered, flexing. “This is insane.”
But then, the changes didn’t stop. Tyler steps closer to the mirror, focusing one a single white hair that popped out in his beard, quickly multiplying…
The beard grew longer and bushier. The room switched realities in flashes of bright light, but Tyler's mind couldn't process it...
In horror he watches his biceps deflating like a balloon — wobbly and soft.
His shirt clung uncomfortably tight. His belly pressed against the fabric, rounding out fast. His jeans bit into his thighs. He staggered back, gasping, as his face ballooned subtly, jawline fading. His cheeks flushed red with panic… and fat.
The hair on his head thinned. A few strands dropped to the dusty floor. He reached up—his scalp felt hot and bare on top. His once-slick side fade now curled into wiry tufts above his ears. His arms… god, they were hairy. Like a gorilla’s.
“No, no, no!” he shouted, his voice cracking into something lower. Gruffer. Like he smoked two packs a day.
In the mirror now stood a man in his fifties. Balding. Paunchy. Heavyset with sagging shoulders, a sweat-stained T-shirt clinging to his hairy gut. Greasy fingers. Puffy eyes. The shoes still fit — perfectly.
Tyler backed away from the mirror, horrified, when the bell above the store door chimed.
Behind him, a short figure stepped out of the shadows and a ghostly hand sweeping dust with a wide mob. The man looked familiar… vaguely. Was he the old janitor, who constantly was rumoured stealing sports gear from the locker rooms? It. couldn’t be him… now lean, handsome, maybe in his twenties — wearing an outfit from the basketball team, that Tyler so admired. He smiled wide.
“Thanks, man,” the stranger said, eyeing the Jordans. “Been waiting for someone to try those on for years. Never thought I would find someone to trade places with me. Enjoy mopping up after basketball practice, and don’t get caught stealing sneakers and gear, you little pervert.”
Tyler opened his mouth to scream, but it came out as a tired sigh.
The door slammed shut behind the man as he vanished into the street.
And somewhere, in the rafters of that dusty old store, the mirror quietly cracked again.
dededos
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annaxmalina
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