The morning sunlight fell softly over the farmhouse. The wooden porch was warm beneath MC's bare feet. A light breeze stirred the grass in slow waves. Everything smelled like soil, wood, and the faint tang of dew. Nothing extraordinary. Nothing missing. Just a farm in the quiet of early morning.
MC sipped tea from a chipped mug. Smooth. Warm. Reliable. The cup fit his hands perfectly, like it had always been there. He had done enough. Traveled the world, climbed Everest, wandered through cities and forests, sailed across oceans. Bought this farm. Adopted a son. Lived a life that made sense. Comfortable. Complete.
A crow hopped along the fence, tilting its head. MC tilted his head back. Crow didn't care about him. Fair enough.
He glanced at the barn. Leaning slightly to the left. Paint peeling. Windows streaked with dust. Functionally fine. No need to fix anything today. The morning moved slowly. Birds called to one another. Wind whispered through the trees. A fine day.
He let his eyes wander across the fields. Rows of vegetables grew unevenly. One of the scarecrows had lost an arm. MC tilted his head. Might be worth a fix later. Or maybe the wind had done a better job keeping birds away. Probably better not to overthink it.
The wind shifted. Slightly cooler. Strange. Not unpleasant. But noticeable. The sunlight seemed thinner, softer, like it didn't reach all the corners it normally did. MC sipped his tea again. No reason to panic. Just… odd.
Then the ground seemed to slip beneath him. Not literally, but like gravity had decided to take a break. The cup stayed in his hands. Tea stayed warm. MC blinked once. Okay. Interesting. Not exactly normal. But manageable.
He opened his eyes fully. The farmhouse, the fields, the barn — all gone.
The first thing MC noticed was how small he was. Not mentally — that part was fine. Memories sharp. Wisdom intact. Adventures vivid. Life complete. And now… tiny limbs that barely moved.
He tried to stretch his arms. Nothing. Tried to lift a leg. Nothing. Blinked once. Okay. Definitely new. Very new.
The air smelled faintly of soap, blankets, warmth. Clean. Safe. Comfortable. But unfamiliar. MC tilted his tiny head. He remembered the farm, the oceans, Everest, the city lights, the boy he adopted, the life he had built. And now… this.
He wriggled. Fingers flailed. Legs kicked. Tiny squeaks escaped his mouth. Surprised. Not panicked. Just… utterly surprised.
A hand lifted him gently. Warm. Safe. Too firm for his tiny body. Pressed him close. He blinked. Faces leaned over him. Round, smiling eyes. Soft cheeks. Gentle hands. Kisses. Multiple. Forehead, cheeks, lips. The attention was… overwhelming.
MC blinked again. Okay. This is… intense.
He tried to move. Couldn't. Tried to speak. Couldn't. Tried to think clearly. Could. Old memories intact. Adventures complete. Farm life peaceful. Son grown. Life done. And now… this. Tiny body. Tiny lungs. Tiny everything.
He noticed the room. Dim candlelight flickering. Shadows pooling in corners. Shelves lined with jars and strange instruments. The faint smell of wax and metal. Something rattled softly in the corner.
And then he saw her. Dark hair. Pale skin. Expressionless. Eyes focused. Instruments arranged meticulously. Didn't look at him. Didn't blink. Didn't care.
MC's tiny heart skipped a fraction. Interesting. Very interesting. Some people liked sunlight. She liked shadows. Noted.
He squirmed, tiny arms and legs flailing. Couldn't grab. Couldn't reach. Couldn't speak.
And then it hit him. The style. The house. The odd furniture. The portraits. The decorations. The eerie, macabre vibe. The way she moved, the instruments, the shadows.
He blinked. Slowly. Carefully.
"Oh." He squeaked, softly, somewhere between a thought and a sound. "This is the Addams family."
Recognition hit fully. He had watched their movies countless times while the farm ran itself. Endless free time. Son doing the work. MC sitting in the porch chair, sipping tea, watching the sun. He knew them. Their quirks. Their shadows. Their macabre habits.
And now… he was one of them.
Parents leaned close again. Smiling. Kisses. Humming. Hands pressing softly. He tilted his head. Couldn't do much. Tiny body, tiny voice. Observing. Processing. Surprised. Very surprised.
Shadows shifted. Candlelight flickered. Jars rattled faintly. Instruments glinted. The girl with dark hair didn't acknowledge him. Didn't need to. MC wriggled, tiny arms flailing, legs kicking. Old mind, tiny body, very weird world.
"Well," he murmured softly in his head, "this is going to be interesting."