Ethan went through the old, creaky door. It slammed shut behind him. The hallway was pitch black. He felt a wave of fear. Everything ached.
He reached out, his hand touching the rough, cold wall. He walked slowly, trying not to trip. The air was damp and smelled old. He stumbled, his ankle twisting. A sharp pain shot up his leg.
He fell to his knees. He was so tired. He tried to stand, but his legs wouldn''t work. His breath came in short, shaky gasps. He felt cold, very cold.
He closed his eyes. He felt like he was falling, falling into darkness. Then, he saw something. A shadow. A dark shape moving in the blackness. He couldn''t see who it was.
He felt himself slipping away. Everything went black.
<hr>
He woke up with a jolt, his eyes snapping open. "Where am I? Did I die and go to a furniture showroom?" He was lying on a soft bed. The sheets were smooth and cool. The room was bright, filled with a warm, golden light. "Okay, not a showroom. Maybe a rich person''s bedroom? Did I get kidnapped by a billionaire with a thing for frilly pillows?"
He sat up, his head pounding. "Ugh, what did I drink last night? Oh, wait, I got shot. Right. That''s worse." He looked around. "This place is...gaudy. Like, seriously over the top. Did a peacock throw up in here?"
He looked down at himself. "What the...?" He was wearing a long dress. "Is this a joke? Who dressed me like a princess? Did I lose a bet? Wait, I don''t even wear dresses." His hands were small, not like his own. "Are these...my hands? Are you kidding me?"
This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
He stood up, his legs feeling weak. "Okay, something is seriously wrong here." He walked to a big mirror. He looked at his reflection. "Who the heck is that?" He didn''t see himself. He saw a young person with pale skin and long, red hair. "Am I hallucinating? Did I get hit in the head harder than I thought?"
"Are you serious? Am I...a girl? No. No way. This has to be a dream. A very, very bad dream." He touched his face. "This is not my face. This is not happening."
He walked to the window. "What is this, Versailles? Did I time travel? Did I get sucked into a history book?" He saw a big garden with green grass and tall trees. "This is not my neighborhood. Not even close."
He turned away from the window. "Okay, deep breaths," he said to himself. "Maybe I''m in a coma. Maybe this is all a coma dream. Yeah, that makes sense. A really weird, dress-wearing, palace-living coma dream."
He walked around the room, looking for clues. "Where''s the remote? I need to change the channel. Or, you know, wake up." He saw a small table with a book on it. He picked up the book. "A diary? Seriously? Who keeps a diary anymore? Oh, right, people who live in palaces."
He opened the book. "Fancy writing. Can''t read this. Is this even English? Or did I travel to France?" He tried to make sense of the words. "Kings, queens, balls...okay, this is definitely a history book. Or a soap opera script. Same thing, really."
He put the book down. "Okay, new plan. Find a way out. Find a doctor. Find out what the heck is going on. And find some pants. Seriously, this dress is not practical."
He remembered the dark shape in the hallway. "Someone''s watching me. Great. Now I''m being followed by a ghost. Or a creepy butler. Either way, not good."
He walked to the door of the room. He turned the handle. "Locked. Of course it''s locked. Because why wouldn''t it be?" He tried to open the windows. "Locked too. Fantastic. I''m trapped in a princess prison."
He sat on the bed. "Okay, think, Ethan. Or whoever I am now. What would MacGyver do? He''d probably use a hairpin or something. Wait, I don''t have hairpins. Or pockets. This dress is useless."
He closed his eyes. "This is insane. I''m a guy. I was a guy. Now I''m...this? This is not happening."
He opened his eyes. "Okay, new plan. Accept the chaos. Embrace the dress. Become the princess. Or something. Just survive. And maybe find some pants."