There are moments that occur where time seems to stand still. No matter your personal power or the circumstance, everything becomes interminably slow. Waiting on the block for the executioner’s axe to finish it’s wicked business, that single breath when you see the crash about to happen, that instant after leaping off of a cliff when you can no longer resist gravity and just before free fall begins.

He wished this was one of those moments.

The first person through the door was his little sister. She looked so young, barely younger than his last memory of her. A clear-eyed Midwestern girl into eclectic music and fashionable clothing, with wavy brown hair that went halfway down her back. She was carrying a brown paper grocery bag with both hands.

Their eyes met. He saw her gaze flicker upwards, undoubtedly taking in his new unwilling hair style. Her mouth dropped open in astonishment. She didn’t drop her bag, which he supposed was a point for her mental fortitude.

“Mom!” she yelled over her shoulder, “Henry dyed his hair!”

“What are you saying?” a voice coming from the garage said. The person who matched the voice quickly came through, his sister moving to make way.

Henry’s mother was a short, stout woman of firmly Germanic heritage. A round, kind face belied lungs that could project a voice the two miles into town if she wanted. She was wearing her usual outing clothes, a button-up blouse and jeans with a denim jacket over it. She carried a plastic shopping bag in each hand and a 2-liter of soda under one arm.

Much like his sister she stopped to take in his new look. A flurry of emotions swept across her expression in quick succession, finally settling on mild surprise.

“Well, it looks good on you,” she said, moving into the kitchen to place the groceries on the counter, “Now go help carry the rest of these in and we’ll talk about it.”

This was a better reaction than he was expecting. Perhaps the large and baggy clothing choices he’d made earlier had prevented his less blatant physical changes from being noticed. Henry followed his now empty-handed mother into the garage.

The last member of the family was still out there. Henry’s father. In his memory he was always massive, a towering man with warm hands and few words. The two of them had never connected as much as his other family members, mostly because if it wasn’t the summer his father was on the road working in sales for...something. The only thing he really remembered about the work was his father insisting that he wasn’t a door-to-door salesman, instead being the man who sold products straight from the manufacturer to stores all over the country.

You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

The memories that Henry had spent decades clinging onto weren’t wrong. At first look he pegged his father for at least six feet six inches tall. He was tall and lanky, with brushed back curly brown hair and deeply tanned skin. At that moment his father was leaning into the hatchback of the forest green SUV which was the family’s main transportation.

His father handed bags to him without even looking back. Henry started hanging plastic bags on one arms until the weight was just beyond comfortable, then switched arms. By the time he was fully loaded half the groceries remaining in the vehicle were hanging from his arms. Henry carried the foodstuffs back into the kitchen and deposited them on the counter next to the growing pile of bags.

Disengaging the bags from his arms gave him some time to think about his family. Henry felt joy, of course, at seeing them alive for the first time in a long time. The feelings were more muted than he was expecting. There was no revelatory bliss. He felt closer to tears looking around in the backyard than he did now. He knew that his emotions at seeing his family again should be stronger. That they would be if he wasn’t the way he was.

Henry sighed softly before schooling his face to a careful neutrality. Disappointment in himself was nothing new.

It didn’t matter.

The rest of the bags were retrieved in rapid succession and with little fanfare. The whole family now stood in the kitchen. Roger, Henry’s father, was switching his attention between the new hairstyle and questioning looks to his wife, Marilynn. She looked like she was holding her breath and waiting to say something. Liz, his sister, had a look of anticipation, undoubtedly for the argument that she thought was just about to break out.

That was probably Henry’s fault. They hadn’t gotten along particularly well when they were younger. He could admit now that he wasn’t a very good brother and they spent a large portion of their respective childhoods trying to sabotage the other and get them in trouble. He was three years older than her, he should’ve been a better example.

A mistake that he never thought he’d face directly again in his life.

One more mistake for the mountain of bitter regrets.

Without saying anything Henry gestured for them to follow and moved to the living room. He stood in front of the television and gestured to the old floral couch and recliner, waiting for them to take their seats. All eyes were on him as they seated themselves around the room. Henry wasn’t a take-charge sort as far as they knew, so this was unexpected behavior.

“I have something important to talk about with everyone,” he said.

“Is it about the hair?” Liz snarkily quipped. Henry stared at her. This was going to be a more difficult conversation than even he predicted.

Marilynn flashed her daughter a half-stern look. “Your brother has something he wants to share with us,” she stated gently, “Let’s let him get it out first before we start throwing around questions.” Liz rolled her eyes and gestured for him to continue.

Henry felt a spike of anger. This mortal..., he thought but quickly quashed. This was his family. They deserved better from him.

“Thank you,” he said quietly, before picking his voice back up, “There are three big things I want to say, then I’ll answer any questions you have before we make plans to move forward.”

“The first item is that I did not dye my hair. This color is a consequence of transferring my soul from the future to this body. I am not the Henry you know.”

“The second is that during the second month of my sophomore year in high school the world will be involved in a cataclysm which will result in only one in every seventy people surviving and the Earth being divided up and enslaved by conquering forces.”

“The third thing is that I am here to stop the second thing.”

“I will now take questions.”