Diary of a Size-Twitch
Notes: The ongoing daily accounts of a supernaturally gifted individual who posseses the ability to bend reality to their will; calling themselves a 'size-twitch', their idle fantasies are made manifest when they put their mind to it.
Part 1: Crystal and Nemo
Well, I’ve been telling myself for months that I’d actually get around to writing all this stuff down on paper, but it wasn’t until one of my colleagues bought me this empty book as an end-of-show present that I actually got around to doing it. I imagine she probably expects me to draw sketches in it like I do in her art journal during rehearsals or something like that. Boy would she be disappointed if I ever planned on showing it to anyone.
So, might as well start off with the basics; since I’m basically going to be recording stuff in this thing that would get me thrown behind bars or into a psyche ward I won’t be using any real names, but I suspect that anyone who knows me will be able to guess easily enough when someone’s based on them.
My name is Derek. Which is to say: my name isn’t Derek, but it will be as far as this book is concerned. I’m an actor and author living in Australia, but more importantly I’m also a size-twitch. If you have no idea what the Hell a size-twitch is, don’t feel bad; not a lot of people do. I basically coined the phrase myself since no pre-existing names seem to fit what I am and what I can do.
Basically, I can physically alter various elements of reality on a whim. I don’t think it’s magic since I don’t use incantations or anything, so I’m not a sorcerer. It’s more of a natural reflex, like spitting or speaking or slapping someone. I also wouldn’t call myself a superhero since I don’t always use my powers for the benefit of others; I mostly only do it whenever the mood strikes me. Supervillain might be closer to the mark, but even then it’s not like I do any permanent damage; most of the time I just twitch everything back to the way it was when I’m done.
If you’re confused, just think of it like… When someone pisses you off, you might imagine an anvil falling on their head. But when you’re done imagining it, you return to reality and nothing has happened. Well, it’s just like that for me, except that the anvil really did fall on their head. I just fixed it afterwards without them being any the wiser.
I suppose I could be a hero or a villain or something, but I don’t particularly care about it that much. I’m not interested in publicity, so anonymity suits me just fine. Anyway, I guess you’re wondering why I chose the moniker of ‘size-twitch’. Well, let me tell you what I did this evening before I came home.
Today was a particularly soggy, dreadful affair which was largely filled with rehearsals and exercise. For the most part I didn’t feel the urge to alter anything; my jog was uneventful and rehearsals for my show honestly went quite well. Sure I wish I’d managed to snag more than one piece of that amazing chicken from dinner, but you can’t win them all. It wasn’t until I arrived at my favourite restaurant to have a late-night tea with my friends that I had my big disappointment.
I’d fought through the rain and traffic to find a parking spot, jogged halfway up the street before realizing I’d left my wallet in the car, jogged back to retrieve it and then repeated the previous action to get myself to the restaurant. By this point I was completely sodden and rather chilly, but I considered it a small price to pay since I’d be seeing some friends I hadn’t caught up with in quite some time.
There were no seats inside, so I went out back and found myself a nice table under one of the massive folding umbrellas. It wasn’t the warm affair I’d been hoping for, but it would do. I contacted the driver of my group to let them know where the table was, only to discover that my effort had been wasted. They had entirely forgotten our appointment and the lot of them had gone out to see a film together.
Sufficed to say, I was displeased by this development. I ordered my usual tea and sent them a brief reply to the effect that I hoped they enjoyed their movie. After that I let myself sink into that comforting mindset that precedes something sadistically cathartic.
The big problem with size-twitching is that as much as people who write stories would like to think otherwise, most people are just not as cruel as we might want. Even when thrust into a position of power, your average person will still play nice for the most part; it’s just social programming. So whenever I set out to incite some sort of violent exchange between my fellow humans, there’s inevitably a lot of trial and error involved with finding the right person to twitch.
My first choice when scanning the restaurant courtyard was the two young women sitting at the table diagonal to mine. I wasn’t expecting anything spectacular to happen; they were after all maintaining a perfectly cheerful conversation and I had no reason to think there was any strife between them. All I could see of the pair was that they were bundled up against the cold and their bottoms looked rather nice in the jeans they were wearing. With a casual mental flex, I sent one of them dwindling down beside her friend, clothes and all.
Of course, her friend screamed. I could muffle the noise so the other table of patrons couldn’t hear, but they still noticed her leaping out of her chair. She clasped her hands to her mouth and stared down at the terrified little lady, both of them gripped with confusion.
I sipped my tea as the scene unfolded. It really wasn’t terribly exciting; a few people came over to look, her friend crouched down beside her and tried to calm her down. Reasonable human beings are so utterly tedious. So, with another small flex, I returned things back to how they were. Everyone was back in their seats, both girls chatted away pleasantly and I still felt deprived of catharsis.
To be fair, I could’ve very easily just taken the easy option of directly involving myself in the action; it is after all the simplest thing in the world to be an unreasonable shit-head to someone to the point that they can’t stand the sight of you. Even then though, it’s still a gamble as to whether or not they’ll try to enact any sort of meaningful revenge against you. It’s all well and good to imagine that someone would murder you given the chance, but nine times out of ten they’ll just freak out when something supernatural happens and run away. Whether or not I was feeling lucky about such an event that night, it didn’t matter; I just wasn’t feeling it. I wanted to watch someone else taking the heat.
Having temporarily written off the young women as a source of entertainment, I cast my gaze to the other table. Eight seated, mostly males with one or two women. They all seemed to be pretty happy with each-other, and it didn’t feel as though any malicious tendencies would be given a chance to manifest with so many witnesses around. None of them looked like they would be ripe for a growth scenario either, so I cast that group from my mind as well.
It was beginning to look like I would have to get up and go for a walk to find my kicks for the night, but as I was packing up my bag; lady luck threw me a bone.
A young lady came marching into the back courtyard, tears streaming down her pale face as she slammed the restaurant door shut behind her. Dyed red hair hung down over her head like a wet mop capped with a soggy beanie. It was obvious she was trying to compose herself when the door opened again; a tall, lanky man following her outside.
“Crystal!” He said in exasperation, reaching for her shoulder. She swatted his hand away, storming across the courtyard towards the table in the corner opposite mine.
“Fuck off Nemo, just… just fuck off.”
“It’s just a misunderstanding; I was only joking.”
“I don’t give a shit Nemo, get the fuck out of here and leave me alone.”
The other patrons had stopped their conversations. Even though they were too polite to stare, it was obvious that everyone was listening. The slinky, red-haired young woman planted herself in one of the chairs with her back to Nemo. He tried once again to touch her shoulder, but when her response was to scream he backed off with both hands in the air.
“Alright, alright! Jeez. I’m going to go take a piss; I hope you’ll have calmed down enough to have an actual conversation when I get back.”
The lanky skater turned and walked back in the direction of the main building, distinctly avoiding eye contact with any of the other diners. Immediately after he was gone, I stood up and walked over to the crying woman’s table.
“Hey Crystal!” I said in my usual friendly voice before seating myself across from her. She raised her eyes in surprise, staring at me with a mixture of confusion and suspicion.
“Um… do I know you?”
“Heh, it’s been a while I suppose; I’m Derek, we went to school together.”
“… School huh? Which one?”
“Westfields.” She narrowed her eyes in response.
“Nice try; I went to Redfern High, and I sure as shit don’t remember you.”
Twitch.
“Hey Crystal!” I said in my usual friendly voice before seating myself across from her. She raised her eyes in surprise, staring at me with a mixture of confusion and suspicion.
“Um… do I know you?”
“Heh, it’s been a while I suppose; I’m Derek, we went to Redfern High together. I was in the year above you.”
“Oh… hey Derek,” She said with feigned recognition, “how are you?”
“Better than you it seems; is Nemo being his usual asshole self?”
“He… wait, how do you know Nemo?”
“School, remember?”
“… He didn’t go to our school; he only flew in from Queensland a few days ago.”
Twitch.
“Better than you it seems; I see you’ve had the misfortune of meeting Nemo.”
“How do you know Nemo?”
“I travel quite a lot; met him up in Queensland a couple of weeks back at a party.” I paused, leaning forward in a conspiratorial way. “You’re not uh… you’re not ‘with’ him are you?”
“Well, sorta… but… I don’t know if I want to be now. I heard him flirting with my room-mate when he thought I wasn’t around; he says it wasn’t serious, but it sure sounded like it to me.”
“Doesn’t surprise me. I’m not one to talk ill about people behind their back, but you always seemed like a good egg to me back in school, and I don’t want to see you taken advantage of like this.”
“Pfft, good egg? Man, your memory of me must be pretty rose tinted if you consider getting almost suspended for punching out a teacher to be worthy of the ‘good egg’ label.”
Twitch.
“Doesn’t surprise me. I’m not one to talk ill about people behind their back, but I remember that you weren’t one to put up with people’s shit back in school, and I reckon you deserve to know when someone’s fucking with you.”
“Oh yeah? What do you know?”
“Let’s just say that Nemo’s a pretty smooth Casanova; I was only in Queensland for two days, and I’m sure I saw him cuddling up with at least three different ladies over the course of that time. Seems to have this opinion that women are just toys for him to play with; he’ll lure them in with honey, trap them in a jar to watch them buzz about for a while, then pull off their wings and step on them when he’s done.”
All the time and effort I put into my craft is entirely worth it for moments like that one. The look on her face, that expression of barely concealed hatred, was more rewarding than an entire minute of thunderous stage applause.
“What an absolute fuckhead. As soon as he gets back, I’m dumping that asshat.”
“You really should; he’s not worthy of you.”
“Damn right!”
“It’s a crying shame that people like that can’t experience what it’s like to feel that small. He’s belittled so many people after all; if there were any justice in this world he’d be reduced to the size of a cockroach himself.”
“Kinda glad he’s not. I’m itching to kick his ass right now; if he was that small I’d just step on the fuckwit, and it probably wouldn’t be as rewarding.”
Cha-ching!
“Oh I dunno about that; imagine putting your boot down on him as he screamed in terror, begging for mercy as you crushed him into a bloody pulp with as much effort as it’d take to extinguish a cigarette. Wouldn’t that feel pretty damn rewarding?”
Crystal raised an eyebrow at me.
“Are you like, a serial-killer or something?”
“Nah, I just read a lot of horror stories.”
“Yeah, well, it’s creeping me out.”
Twitch.
“Kinda glad he’s not. I’m itching to kick his ass right now; if he was that small I’d just step on the fuckwit, and it probably wouldn’t be as rewarding.”
“Well it’d certainly be poetic justice at the very least; he spends all his times crushing the hearts of unsuspecting women under his shoes. It would be fitting for a guy like that to be stepped on himself for a change.”
“You may have a point there Derek; kinda moot though since shrinking people don’t exist.”
“Yeah, pity that… Anyway, I’d better scoot out of here before Nemo gets back. If he sees me he’ll probably know the gig’s up. Good luck!”
“Later.” Crystal waved her hand vaguely as I stood up and sauntered back to my table.
The stage was set, the pieces were in place; all that was left was for the players to arrive. After thirty more seconds, the scraggly-haired young man returned from the bathroom, walking over and standing just to the side of his girlfriend.
“Hey; are you feeling up to a proper conversation yet?”
Crystal rose from her seat in a flash, her hand slapping across his face with the sound of a whip-crack. He stumbled backwards into the fence, a sweltering red mark on his face. I glanced around the courtyard; the pair of ladies had departed during my conversation with Crystal, and the family at the bigger table seemed to be packing up to leave rather hurriedly. Perfect.
“OW! Jesus fuck, you need to calm down!”
“Calm down?! You lying sack of shit; I fucking trusted you!”
I watched patiently as the final remaining group headed inside to depart, leaving me alone in the rainy courtyard with the bickering couple. I sipped my tea.
“Jesus, I already told you it was just a joke! Nothing was ever gonna happen; I wouldn’t fly three fucking hours down to see you if I was just gonna cheat on you with your own house-mate! Do you really think I’m that much of a scum-bag?”
“DON’T YOU FUCKING LIE TO ME!” The whip-crack sounded again as her palm smacked across his face a second time. “I know about all your other fucking women you jackass!”
“WHAT OTHER WOMEN!?” He threw up his hands in angry confusion, “You’re the only woman I’ve dated in months!”
“Get the fuck out of here you lying shit-stain or so help me I will kick your ass so hard they’ll have to call the cops!”
“Fine. Y’know what? Fine. I’m sick of trying to be reasonable with you when it’s pretty clear I’m getting no-where. I thought you seemed cool enough to visit, but now I see you’re nothing but a God-damn psycho! I’m done with you.”
Perfect. The instant Nemo turned to leave I tilted my head slightly to the side, watching him calmly as his size dwindled away. I took that moment to excuse myself from my seat, stepping backwards behind one of the courtyard trees and out of sight. Although I could no longer be seen in the shadow of the leafy branches, I could still see just fine.
The look of confusion and horror on Nemo’s face was deeply rewarding, especially when coupled with the gleefully furious expression on Crystal’s. A few seconds into the transformation she cast a look towards my table, but upon finding nothing but air she returned her gaze to Nemo.
“What the fuck? How are you doing this?! Stop it!” Nemo’s voice grew fainter with each passing second, his body shrinking steadily. Less than a minute later it was barely the size of an acorn.
Crystal had been entirely silent throughout the change, but when it finally stopped she broke the silence with a sound that I quite relish during these moments; laughter. I couldn’t help but smile at the sadistic noise as it drowned out the barely audible screams of the shrunken man.
“I can’t believe I thought I wouldn’t enjoy this.” The red-haired waif wound back her leg and kicked forward hard, sending the dinky little man soaring across the courtyard with blinding speed. He hit the wall of the restaurant with such force that an unmistakable wad of blood was left behind where he struck, his mangled body tumbling to the ground with a soft ‘fwap’.
“Oh GOD that felt good.” Crystal stormed forwards, droplets pouring down all around her as she approached the twitching form on the rain-slicked bricks. “Hey; don’t worry Nemo, it’s just a fucking joke right? So it won’t hurt!”
An instant later, Crystal’s boot slammed down on the tiny figure, crushing it in one glorious heartbeat. I watched with baited breath as she lifted the thick-soled stomper, held it for a moment, and let it crash back down a second time… and a third time… and a fourth time. Finally, after half a dozen brutal stamping motions, she twisted her heel back and forth with a grimace of adrenaline-fuelled delight.
Eventually though the action came to a halt.
Silence filled the air.
Crystal started to tremble, taking a step back and looking down at the red smear on the floor. As her heart-rate slowed and her anger ebbed away under the pouring rain, her eyes grew wide.
“… Oh fuck, what have I done?!” Her hands clasped to her mouth, “Oh God, I murdered him!”
And this is where things start to get tragically human; my thirst for blood had been quenched, and I had no particular desire to see a young woman grapple with the emotional consequences of her actions.
With a minor flex of willpower, I was back in my seat. Crystal had just seated herself at the table, and Nemo had toddled off to the bathroom. I don’t really know what caused their fight, I don’t know if Nemo was just playing around or if he really was a scum-lord, and honestly? I really don’t care either. I mean, I hope everything works out for the best, but I probably won’t even remember who they are by this time tomorrow.
And that’s kinda what I do. I suspect that I’ll wind up filling this book with stories just like this one; the big, the small, the intimate and the indiscriminately destructive. It’ll certainly help alleviate my temptation to bring it up in casual conversation… or maybe it’ll just make it worse; I don’t know.
Anyway, I’m rather tired now, so I think it’s bed time. Peace.