Day 258 - De-age / Re-age

 De-age / Re-age

Matthew Ryan Fischer

 

Winston wouldn’t have believed it if he hadn’t been there to see it in person. He still wasn’t sure he believed it.

The thief was de-aging in front of him. When he ran from the store, he seemed about thirty, he had short thinning hair and a scruffy goatee and a mostly unshaven neck. But as soon as Winston gave chase, things got wonky. The thief’s hair grew fuller, longer and became more vibrant and colorful. Winston wondered if he had gotten it wrong or if he was witnessing a trick of the light.

When he pulled his gun and yelled for the thief to stop, Winston would swear that the thief shrunk in height and his broad chest and shoulders narrowed.

The thief didn’t stop running, so neither did Winston.

The thief grew reckless. He ran into traffic, dodged cars one moment, then turned back and waved to Winston, inviting him to catch up and rejoin the race. Every time he did something that seemed borderline insane or stupid, Winston would swear something else would change and the man would seem younger, more vibrant, fuller of energy and life.

The thief grew faster, his breath remained balanced, while Winston grew tired, huffing and puffing and cursing himself for not working out more often.

Winston was sweating. His heart was pounding. He wasn’t going to be able to catch the man. But “man” wasn’t quite right. Not anymore, anyway. The “man” looked more like a “youth” perhaps eighteen or twenty. Winston wasn’t sure what he was witnessing.

The thief turned the corner up ahead. When Winston got there, he found the shirt the thief had been wearing discarded on the street. Something to change his appearance, thought Winston. A pre-planned method of escape?

Winston looked around, not seeing the thief at all.

Across the street was a group of school children all between the ages of twelve and fifteen. Winston scanned their faces, looking for anyone who resembled the eighteen-year-old he had seen moments before. But there was no match. Not one that he could tell anyway.

No one would believe him if he explained what he was thinking. They would call him crazy. But his suspect had seemingly faded away in front of him and the only reasonable lead he had meant he had to believe that the thief was capable of de-gaining back into a child. It was madness, he knew.

Winston called dispatch and gave a description of the man he had seen. He didn’t know how to explain the rest. But he watched as the group of kids meandered away, wondering what each had hidden in their backpacks.

 

 

 

The thief entered his apartment and tossed his backpack down by the door. He went to the couch and turned the tv on. He kicked off his shoes and dropped down into a relaxed spot. As he did, he smiled. And when he smiled, it was clear that some of his facial hair was growing back.