Distorting Destiny

Offbeat

Their mother still used the light-producing box to make tiny thin objects at seemingly random moments. They didn't know what was so worth the cooing their mother did at the thin object, simply focusing back on the fun musical toy before them.

They had an itch that they should know the name of the toy, yet they focused more on hitting the colorful bars with the mallets. It probably sounded terrible to the smiling parents who sat on the floor with them. They continued on, however, favoring the higher notes. After all they had already gone from left to right about twenty times.

As Lloyd enjoyed this, a flash of memory from somewhere else as someone else tried to jump in. The disturbance in their mind led to the jerking of their right hand, the mallet hitting the toy wrong and it made a high pitched sound. They must have hit a bar too hard or perhaps hit the screws keeping them in place. It wouldn't have been bad or even a problem, but their father winced. It was a physically visible motion that drew the attention of both them and their mother.

"Are you alright?" The voice of their mother rung out, tiny box on her lap and her hand now was on his shoulder. They noted the action must've been to comfort their father. Lloyd had set down the mallets and then gazed at their father's eyes that finally opened after they had been squeezed shut. That troublesome memory that both was and wasn't theirs had distracted them into making a noise that hurt their father.

The pale man noticed the attention of his family now that his eyes were open. Instead of comfort, he seemed to tense when he recognized that a hand was on his shoulder. "I'm fine, Misako." He told them, and though very similar in meaning the two words alright and fine were different. Therefore their mother still seemed worried. "Just a headache." He admitted to her at the look she gave him.

This word was fairly new to them. When they started to get emotional over seemingly nothing their parents had tried to give them words to describe pains they might be feeling. They weren't completely certain what it meant yet, as ache was a harder word than pain. So Lloyd just focused back on their toy, even if they were simply staring at it.

As they tried to piece together the images that their mind had given them, some in particular stood out. There had been metal bars arranged in a similar manner to their toy. It was much less colorful, but the instruments had to be one and the same. People had been there, faces unrecognizable in the blurry flash of memory. A foggy faced woman who was their teacher- yes that was the word for her- instructed them on the instrument. They soon realized they held mallets as well in the memory.

The memory only slipped away from their mind's eye as they heard a voice. "You can keep playing, Lloyd." They startled a little with the interruption at first, until they noticed their father with a soft smile on his nearly paper white face. "I'm okay." Their father must've been trying to comfort them, based off his tone that was as calm as his smile. They soon remembered what had just happened with their father and his headache. They should have dismissed the images they saw in their head with the, though the music in their mind persisted.

Permission to continue playing had been given, even if they had just been hitting the bars with the mallets wherever they wanted. They accepted the possible lie that came from their father, and took proper hold of the mallets and continued playing, shoving away the guilt at making their father's head hurt.

With the motions made in the memory on the instrument, they hoped they would recreate the melody that now rang through their mind. They managed to make a decent variation of melody they had heard and seen in the memory, and they were very proud of themself. The almost-two-year-old was beaming with about two thirds of their sharp teeth having come in. They hit the bars with their mallets to the rhythm, glad to provide joy to their parents who didn't seem to be straining their smiles as much anymore.

——————————

At one time, as they played on their cushioned pad with their toys, their father was with them. They had a flash of a game they once played with someone come to mind. Maybe it was in this life, and they simply forgot. The game always had them lose, yet it made them feel warm and happy. They crawled over to where their father was, and as they sat across him they held up their hands as flat as they could. Similar to patty-cake, but not the same game.

Lloyd's father was patient but confused as he copied them. They noticed his eyes were glowing more than they usually did around them, but dismissed it for now. They hit their father's hands with their full baby hands, trying their best to count with their limited vocal ability. "Five." They began with, in the language of their mind because they didn't know the words for the numbers in the noises their parents used. "Ten." That one was hard to say as they slapped their right hand against their father's left palm.

They usually went all the way to one-hundred with whoever they had played this with before. They were getting impatient though, and after the fourth slap with the number "Twenty." They launched at their father's torso, trying to imitate the tickling since he was too slow to do it first. Their father seemed not to understand their objective until he laughed and they beamed up at him, victorious. "I win!" Lloyd had never won before, they didn't even know how to tickle someone really.

This felt like their dad, the glowing of his eyeshad even stopped. He even surprised them with a tummy tickle of their own. They squealed in laughter, shrieks of joy filling their room. They had always been extremely ticklish- which was what made the hand counting game with their dad so fun. It would get rid of some of their energy in a positive and fun way. The laughter that sounded maybe too much like screeching from the other rooms had summoned their mother.

She had aggressively slid open the paper doors to their room, eyes alert. When she saw them being tickled on the mat by their father, she relaxed. Their mother walked over to them, sitting on her legs as she smiled softly at them both. "A warning would have been nice." She quietly scolded the two. Their dad had stopped the tickle assault, but their mother's smirk made them scoot away before she began ruthlessly ticking their tummy. Somehow their mother's tickling was more potent than their father's as they flailed their limbs every which way.

——————————

Completely tuckered out from the onslaught of tickles, they yawned as they were put in their crib. Their mother kissed them on their head first, and last. Their eyes were heavy, though they tried to see where their father was as they tried not to fall asleep. He had never forgotten to kiss them on the forehead before they went to sleep. They had laid in their crib, concerned until they eventually fell asleep, still worried about their dad. It wouldn't be a restful night for them, something was off.

——————————

Italics will now be used when our reincarnated main character, Lloyd, speaks in their previous life's language.