Wonderland Alyssa Griesman
The sound of my alarm clock infiltrated the air, waking me slowly from my slumber. I cracked open my eyes slightly, peering at the buzzing clock. 7:00am. Impulsively, I dragged my drowsy arm out from under my bed sheets and turned off the alarm, stopping its relentless stabbing. Gradually, I sat up and rubbed my eyes and stretched my limbs, causing a long, awaited yawn to emerge out into the morning silence. Once out of bed, I slipped on my fluffy, pink slippers and headed over to my bathroom to wash up with some cold water, hoping it would wake me up from my half-conscious state. When I flicked on the light switch in the bathroom and glanced at the mirror, a blood curdling shriek left my soul, snapping me out of whatever trance I previously was in. Now, I know that you’re probably thinking: I was just spooked by my terrifying morning appearance. While that may indeed be the case sometimes, it was not why I was currently startled. Staring back at me was some animated version of myself with the words ‘Level 1’ displayed above my head. I quickly turned on the sink faucet and splashed cold water on my face, hoping this time it would erase whatever absurdity I just witnessed. When I looked at the mirror again, I was bewildered, as I was still faced with the strange version of myself. I tried to relax, rationalizing that this was probably some sort of bizarre dream—despite how real it seemed. I thought maybe if I went back to sleep, I would wake up in my normal, unanimated body. So, I headed back to my bedroom, slipped under my bed sheets, and closed my eyes. Of course, with my luck, my dismay only worsened. When I woke up for the second time and redirected myself to the bath- room mirror, I was once again faced with the image of an animated character, labeled ‘Level 1’. My heart started to race, my hands started to tremble, and my mind started to spin. Was I stuck in a video game? How could this be? I went back to my bedroom and searched for my iPhone, only to find a flip phone resting soundly on my night table. Confusion, fear, and shock rammed into me like a bulldozer, choking me by the second. I could barely breathe, let alone think. I dialed my dad’s number, but there was no answer. I tried my mom’s number—silence; my sister’s—nothing.
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