New Found Beginnings.

Chapter One.

       Odd. Very odd was the feeling Gatsby had received when he woke up that October morning. His body ached and felt as if it had been contorted while he was asleep- he did know that he was a heavy sleeper and could not simply just choose one position to sleep in...it was just not something he could control. Though, this morning, Gatsby could barely recognize the room he had woken up in. It was foreign. It was different. It wasn't his home; or at least he thought it wasn't.

    He wasn't sure about how he woke up, or where exactly he was; but the room that surrounded him was absolutely stunning. Even though his head felt as if it could explode at any given moment, Jay decided to get down from the king sized bed he laid in to get a better look. He hesitantly shimmied around through the large comforter before falling out of the bed and onto the cold floor below him, he gasped at the contact with his skin- it was absolutely freezing and made the hair on his arms stand up. Gatsby sat there on the floor in nothing but an oversized blue night shirt that hung off the side of his shoulder. This wasn't his clothes, either... he turned his head to face the bed and noticed a pair of trousers that lay strewn about upon the mattress. He flushed a bright red- now he was aware of what might have happened, but he wasn't sure of where he was and why he was here.

    Gatsby stood up and wandered around the room while holding up his clothes within his hands so that he wouldn't trip. He noticed each and every line of shirts and other articles of fancy clothing going up and down the walls of the room. He was absolutely captivated by the colors. He had never seen such beautiful shirts before. Gatsby then turned his attention to a mirror sitting propped up against said wall, he raised a brow and slightly turned towards it. The male gasped at the sight and his heart dropped down within his chest.

       In front of the mirror stood a body that did not look like his own. A body of a boy who looked no more than five years old...his stature standing at three feet tall, his figure skinny and feeble. Said boy had analyzed himself closer and pressed his tiny hands upon the mirror to get a closer look- he felt sick. This wasn't him. He felt as if he was disconnected from his body. But why couldn't he remember anything?! Why was this happening?! Gatsby couldn't feel anything else around him but the increasing silence that filled his room; it began to drive him absolutely crazy before he let out a distressed cry. He couldn't take it. It was sickening to see. It was terrible. He wanted whoever this boy was staring at him in the mirror to go away. The cry eventually turned into an uncontrollable sob and soon the sound of the wailing child echoed throughout the halls of the home...alerting any servants on duty.

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     He felt sick. Ill and weak when he was placed upon the ground with gentleness. He didn't want to stand on his own, but the feelings that rushed within him had almost taken him out like a wave. Gatsby felt himself slightly fall over to the side and desperately grab onto the servant's leg who stood by him for support. He felt a hand gently hold him up and nudge him to keep him standing up right. Gatsby turned his attention to the other who was assisting him wistfully— he wanted to be held, but the amount of embarrassment that he felt was making him sick. He couldn't seem to catch a single break; he didn't think this could get any worse. Boy, was he dead wrong.

    "Master Gatsby," spoke one of the servants, approaching the ill-looking child, "I believe there were plans arranged to meet, ahem, a few acquaintances this evening." He turned to a schedule that he held within his hands- Gatsby eyed the man carefully, he was not sure he could trust anyone here just yet. It was concerning enough that he was in a home he didn't know, but knew something was horribly wrong with himself and his situation.
   "Do you believe you will be comfortable attending?" Asked the man- it was clear that he didn't know how to really...deal with children. He was satisfied with the hesitant nod that the child had given him and was on his way. Gatsby stared blankly ahead of him before releasing the other servants leg; what did he mean by "plans" ? Who was he meeting? What was an "acquaintance"? None of this was making any sense to him. It irritated him to death. It was weird enough that the man who spoke to him even knew his name.