As I emerge from the wormhole, I look around. I was still in the large field behind my house. Everything was normal…okay…I stumble back to the the house, regretting the fact that mother’s going to be very upset with my dirty clothes. She always wanted everything to be clean and tidy, that’s why I’m surprised when I enter the kitchen.

“Oh, your clothes are dirty! Oh well, mine are too!” She laughed as she sowed me that her shirt is stained with sauce and food. She’s not even wearing an apron! I set to work cleaning the dishes in the sink, which were stacking up high, another unusual thing. I thought I might as well clean up a bit.

“No need to do those,” says my younger brother entering the kitchen, “I’ll do it for you.” Strange. He’s usually very messy, but his offer is something I can’t miss. I nod my head and stalk out of the kitchen.

I sit on the bed in my room and look at the unfinished canvas. I love to paint, but I never finished the mountain landscape. I grab my paintbrush and dip it in the off white. I’m about to brush the paint across the canvas and…I realize it’s not a mountain landscape at all.

Apparently, I was painting a self portrait, but I distinctly remember the snow capped mountains and ice blue sky that was there before. I shrug it off, but then take a closer look at the self portrait. Something is off about it, something I can’t put my finger on. That’s when I realize.

My hair in the painting is in a high ponytail. It’s a beautiful ginger color, but it’s wrong. I always wear my dark brown hair down, and I don’t have the turquoise eyes in the painting.

Confused and exhausted, I flop onto my bed. When I sit back up, I look into the full body mirror leaning against the wall. No, it can’t be.

My hair is ginger brown, and in a high ponytail, just like the painting. My eyes are turquoise, too. I sigh and exit the room.

My dad is in the living room watching a cooking sh- wait, what? He always watches the football games, and there’s a big one on today. I just try to clear my head as I go out the front door.

Going to my friend Luna’s house will be normal, right? I knock on her door, and out enters…not her…Luna has always had blonde hair and blue eyes, not brown hair and hazel eyes. I slowly walk into her house and she leads me into her room.

“Hey,” she says, “you okay?”

“It’s just…everything’s weird. Our hair and eyes are different and my family’s acting weird.”

“What do you mean? We’ve always looked like this,” Luna replies.

“What? Everyone’s acting so strange!”

“How strange?” Luna asks.

“As strange as…if you decided to play a different instrument!” I say. Luna would do anything for her flute.

“Speaking of which, I’ve learned a new song! Wanna hear?” Luna pulls out her instrument after I nod my head. She-no-she…

“What is happening!” I yell, pointing at her clarinet. “It’s supposed to be a flute!”

“Maybe your just tired,” Luna says and convinces me to go home. I sadly walk back to my house, and notice the wormhole in my backyard.

Everything’s been weird since I came out of there. I shake my head again, and when I turn around I face the real weirdness.

Everyone is speaking German, which I know I little of. People are riding around in their flying cars and animals are on their two back legs.

I back slowly alway. Maybe it was that, or maybe wrong footing, or maybe even luck, but I stumble into the wormhole again.

I climb out. Everything’s normal. When I walk into the house, my mom looks at my clothes with disgust. My dad is watching the game, and me brother is standing with his arms crossed refusing the dishes.

I run over to the sink and look in the water at my reflection. My dark brown hair is down, and my eyes aren’t turquoise anymore. I sprint down the hallway to my room and look at the mountain landscape.

I wall burst out the front door and run down the street to knock on Luna’s door. I smile the biggest smile. Luna looks normal, too.

“Wanna hear a new song on my flute?” She asks. I nod my head and Luna leads me to her room where she plays the music.

When I go back home, I grab a few of the traffic cones in the garage. I place them around the wormhole so no one will ever stumble into it again. Then, I walk into my house and pick up my paintbrush, finally adding the much needed stroke.