The Chance to make a Change

Chapter 1: Arrival

Notes: To those of you who read this and are 18 or 19 years old, ignore the de-aging comment in this chapter.

Summary: You are standing in front of Albert Shaw's home. Surely this must mean you have the power to stop him from becoming a murderer?
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This was the house. You would have recognized it anywhere. The low shape of it, carrying number 7741, a low iron fence around it and a leafless tree in front of it. The shape of the tree one that you could never forget. There was no doubt about it. This was the house the bodies had been buried in. Which meant...

You turned to the house on the opposite side of the road and gawked. It looked so ordinary. One would not suspect the bad things that had happened in there. Or that were still to happen. Small steps led to a front door. A black van was parked on the left side, and a small passage that led to the back garden separated the parking spot from the main house. Neatly trimmed bushes formed a line to the right. The curtains were drawn. This had to be Albert Shaw's home.

But it did not make sense.

Looking down at yourself and the basket you held in your hands, you were even more confused. Was this a dream? You could have believed that it was, if not for the weight of the basket in your hands, the feel of the wicker carving into your palms, and a cold nippy wind licking past your bare knees.

It did not make any sense, because why were you wearing these clothes? The skirt, the blouse with badges, the little scarf around your neck.

This could not be real, your mind thundered. You felt your heart beat wildly within your chest, pounding high and hard with fear. If this was suddenly real, then what did this mean for you?

A careful step towards the Grabber's front door, the sound of a tiny stone that must have lain on the asphalt and now poked the sole of your shoe. Another sign that this was real, because you felt it. The lawn seemed a yellowish brown. The same way you remembered it had been in the movie.

You wondered what it all meant. What was wanted from you, that you had suddenly ended up in front of the house of a kille?. A slasher you had enjoyed on screen, but dreaded to come face to face with in real-time.

When you looked up you saw another confirmation that this was you, but that there was something very wrong about this all. The glass of the door showed your reflection like a dark mirror. You saw the short skirt, the crinkled blouse, the scarf around your neck with a neckerchief slide, and the badges on your sleeves.

A girl scout. An ambassador? Selling cookies?

You took a step closer to the door to look at yourself.

You were younger than you remembered, younger than you should be. A young adult, just tipping the scales of maturity. God, you'd been glad you had passed that age where your hormones finally settled and you started to become more sensible and responsible. How old were you? By the looks of you, you thought you'd be 18? 19? 20? You were glad you weren't a kid any longer, but the whole change still confused you. Why be so much younger, but not a kid?

That's when a sound caught your attention. Was that Samson barking inside? You knew Albert Shaw had a dog, but this creature sounded almost feral. Alarmed, you thought something must be going on. Your hands were at the sides of the door, heart racing while your eyes flitted all across the door while you thought of what to do.