I need to become a wrinkly, bitter old person immediately.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Adolescence is such a bore. My friends obsess over boys, gossip, and grades. I\u2019m shorter than my peers (which would be a perfect height for an old woman), but I still look down on them.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I\u2019m walking to school with my friends. Gretchen the Witch passes by. Her hunched posture and raggedy bones are delightful. I\u2019ve been trying to get a nose piercing shaped like the massive wart on her nose. Nobody seems to sell them.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cCurse you, smooth-skinned wenches!\u201d Gretchen croaks, shaking her serpentine cane at us.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cFuck off, freak,\u201d says one of my friends while flipping her glistening hair.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Gretchen and I go in opposite directions\u2013me to school and Gretchen to her shack by the swamp. Each step I take hurts, as if my life would be better if I followed Gretchen. \u201cI forgot something,\u201d I lie to my friends. I flash my upsettingly pearly whites. \u201cI\u2019ll meet you in class.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I jog down the street and through the swamp, imagining myself in communion with its most wretched animals.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I\u2019ve read pretty much every fairytale, and the characters I identify with are old women envious of youthful beauty. That\u2019s what it\u2019s all about. People grow up and realize that. I realized it early and want to skip to the most important part of life.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I arrive at Gretchen\u2019s shack and bang on the door. I hear her hobbling toward me until she opens it. \u201cWhat the hell do you want?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I barge into her home. Clutter sprinkles the floor. There\u2019s a boiling cauldron in the middle. \u201cI want to be like you.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cLike me?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cTurn me into an old ass ugly hag.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Her eyes narrow into seething slits. \u201cNo.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I go to her kitchen and find a knife. I hold it to her throat. \u201cEither wrinkles or your blood decorates my face.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
She swallows her fear. \u201cFine. I\u2019ll get my spellbook.\u201d She returns with the book and sits on a peeling throne chair.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cGive me a wart like yours. And make my hair really stringy with bald patches.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cYou sure you want this?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cLess yapping, more spellcasting.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
She chants gibberish, and a light surrounds me. My skin becomes flabby, my joints stiffen, and I thankfully feel a wart on my nose. I grab a dusty mirror from the floor and look at it. Gretchen nailed my transformation!<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cThank you.\u201d My voice got much huskier. I hobble to class. I admire the rhythm of my cracking knees paired with my whistling breaths.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I arrive at school. Math class has already started. My teacher is too old to be envied and too young for me to feel kinship. I sit at my desk during his talk about square roots.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cExcuse me, ma\u2019am?\u201d he asks. \u201cYou\u2019re not a student.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cIt\u2019s Holly,\u201d I say. \u201cI got that witch to transform me. So stop staring, you middle-aged nothing, and continue your agonizing lecture!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Everyone in class laughs.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
One of my friends asks, \u201cHolly, why did you want to turn into an old lady? That\u2019s silly.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cSilly? What a good word. Silly describes all of you. Nothing but running from triviality to triviality.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cI like running games of trivia, too!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cYour face is young, but your ears must be ancient, you deaf cretin!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
My teacher speaks up. \u201cSettle down, class. Holly, I\u2019ll excuse your lateness this one time. Let\u2019s get back to math.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
During class, I keep getting messages from my classmates\u2019 group chats. People invite me to parties and crack jokes like nothing has changed. These people are my enemies, and they\u2019re too dense to realize.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
When lunch break arrives, I head for the dank corner in the basement to stew in isolation, but my friends follow.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cHow does it feel to be old but not?\u201d one friend asks without bitterness. \u201cThat\u2019s amazing!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cCan we help you get a cane? I passed a shop selling a great one,\u201d another says.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cImbecilic leeches in buxom figures!\u201d I shout at them.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cYou really think I\u2019m buxom?\u201d asks my insecure friend, smiling and looking reassured for the first time since I\u2019ve known her.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Cody, the most popular and fit jock in school, approaches me. My friends back up, giving me space and swooning at the view. \u201cH-h-hey,\u201d Cody stammers, fidgeting and avoiding eye contact. He summons the courage to look me in the eye. \u201cThe saggy skin folds by your mouth look like dimples. I think you\u2019re a cutie.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cArgh!\u201d I shout. This is all wrong. I hobble back to Gretchen\u2019s shack. Maybe she has a spell to fix this.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I ram my fists on her door. Gretchen opens. \u201cGo away. I gave you what you wanted!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cNo, you didn\u2019t. My friends are nice, and the man of my dreams is probably in love with me.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Gretchen sighs. \u201cI thought this might happen. Come in.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I walk in. \u201cWhat now?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cNow you live completely beloved.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cBut look at me. I\u2019m supposed to receive scorn and give more in return.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cYou\u2019re forcing it, and everyone can tell. People like me have deep resentment that builds after decades of disappointment.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cYou\u2019re saying I must wait to be fucked over by life to be convincing?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cAnd that might not come. Many old folks thrive.\u201d Gretchen winces, as if stabbed with jealousy.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I put my head in my hands. \u201cBut this transformation\u2026all it\u2019s given me are stiff joints!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cYou\u2019re special now. A girl in an old body. That uniqueness attracts others and repels resentment. If I discovered my witchy powers at your age, I would\u2019ve been pretty popular.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cAnd you wouldn\u2019t be a cursing asshole?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cMaybe. No more questions. I\u2019ve used up all the charity I can give!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I stare at my reflection in Gretchen\u2019s boiling cauldron. I look hot.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
__________<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Sean Dowie is a Queer, slightly eccentric writer from Toronto, Canada. His fiction has appeared in<\/em> HAD, Maudlin House, and <\/em>hex. He\u2019s a 2024 Tin House Winter Workshop Participant and a 2022 Lambda Literary Fellow<\/em>. Find more of his stories at sean-dowie.com<\/a><\/em>.<\/p>\n\n\n\n <\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"