James Kimmey considered himself the very best cleaner in the United States. He was absolutely convinced that there wasn't a single cleaner in all of New York City, or for that matter, in the whole of America, who was as professional as he was. In earlier years, James had worked for the wealthiest people on Manhattan, including the multi-millionaire Edwin O'Reilly, who lived with his wife on Upper East Side, and we mustn't forget Cameron Foster, now considered Manhattan's richest woman.
James was skilled, very skilled indeed, if one were to be honest. He had managed to clear away all the mold in Edwin's apartment in less than three minutes, and it hadn't taken him more than two minutes to sweep away all the ugly dust bunnies that hid here and there in Cameron's apartment. James had been very well paid for his quick work, and because he had been so well compensated by all his satisfied clients, he had managed to save enough money to take his lively son, Harvey, to Luna Park.
On another occasion, he had even been given the task of cleaning backstage at a Broadway musical, where in less than ten minutes he had swept away confetti, polished stage props, and returned every chair to perfection before the next performance—a task that caused both actors and the director to nod in impressed awe at his speed and precision. One of the actresses had been so grateful that she had given him a pair of tickets to the musical "Hamilton."
James, who had always considered Alexander Hamilton his favorite Founding Father, had accepted the tickets and gone to the musical.
It had become a memory for the ages, he thought.
James had started the day by reading from The New York Times for his wife, Sophie, then he had packed his things, and then he had set off for work. James had been tasked with helping a multi-millionaire named Mervin "Merv" Ziegler clean up his bathroom. His toilet had broken and begun to spray like a mad fountain, and this had caused the whole bathroom to fill with stinking toilet water. Merv had panicked, and then he had done exactly what a panicked man usually does when something goes wrong in his apartment: he had called for help, and the help that had come was James.
James had been promised a million dollars if he could clean and tidy up the Ziegler family's bathroom, and James couldn't say no to a job like that; there was a lot of fun to be had if you had a million dollars. Although James and his family were already rich as trolls, it couldn't hurt to be even richer, James thought.
James was in a good mood as he kissed Sophie goodbye and headed for Upper East Side Manhattan. He whistled loudly as he walked out into the sunshine, and the tune he whistled was the American variant of the English march song "It’s A Long Way To Tipperary":
“It’s a long way to Tipperary, it’s a long way to go, it’s a long way Tipperary, to the sweetest girl I know, goodbye Staten Island, Farewell To Times Square, It’s a long long, way to tipperary, but my heart’s right there! It’s a long way to Tipperary, it’s a long way to go, it’s a long way Tipperary, to the sweetest girl I know, goodbye Staten Island, Farewell To Times Square, It’s a long long, way to tipperary, but my heart’s right there!” James hummed.
As James neared the sun-drenched streets of the Upper East Side, he turned off into a narrow, barely visible opening between two old brick buildings. The alley before him looked simple at first glance, but something about it made him stop. It was as if the air itself changed, a quiet hum filled the narrow passage, and it smelled faintly of something alien, almost like warm honey mixed with warm milk.
The light from the street barely reached down here, and the walls were covered in ivy that seemed to glow with a faint green tint. Small sparks of light danced like dust motes in the air, yet James could see no source for them. The alley seemed to continue further than logic allowed; the longer he looked, the deeper it appeared to become, as if it stretched into another world.
A faint, melodic sound was heard, as if the wind itself were playing an invisible harp. James felt a tingling in his stomach; the alley wasn't just a passage, it felt alive, filled with secrets and promises of something extraordinary. With a small smile on his lips, he took a step inside, and suddenly the world outside was as if blown away, replaced by something that was both frightening and captivating at the same time. He squinted his eyes, and sure enough, the longer he stared into the alley, the longer it seemed to become, as if it were an enchanted tunnel without an end.
James wondered if this alley might be a shortcut home to the Ziegler family, but he also wondered if it might be a detour. But before he had a chance to decide, James's self-proclaimed best friend, Emily Van Beek, came up to him. James and Emily had been best friends since childhood and had shared many fun times together; they had, among other things, visited Orlando, Florida, and gone to Universal Studios. Now they were both twenty-five years old and both lived on opposite sides of New York, but they still kept in touch.
“Hey James, it’s been a while!” Emily said happily. “How are things with you?”
James didn't answer.
“Hello, is anyone home, Earth to Mr. Kimmey!” Emily shouted and playfully tapped James on the head.
James jumped, completely unprepared for the tap.
“Oh, hey Van Beek! Sorry I didn’t answer. I was completely busy looking at this strange alley.”
Emily preferred to be called by her last name and not her first name, as she was very proud of her Dutch roots.
“What alley?” Emily wondered.
“This alley, don’t you see it?” James replied, pointing to the alley in front of him.
“Actually, I don’t,” Emily answered. “I can only see a red brick wall.”
“You really don’t see it?! It's right in front of you!” James said, surprised. “Girl, you should get glasses!”
“I already have them,” Emily laughed, pointing to her glasses. “Can’t you tell?”
James began to laugh.
“Yeah, that’s true, damn I’m stupid!” James laughed. “Where are you headed, Van Beek?”
“I’m going to meet up with my best friend, Nancy McCleary, at a café over there,” Emily replied. “I have to go now, but you have a good day, bye!”
Emily started walking away from James. After seven minutes, she stopped, turned around, and shouted: “Should we go to Universal Studios again sometime? We’d one HELL of a time there!”
“Sure, we can talk next week?!” James shouted back.
“Talk to you soon, bye!” Emily replied, and then she continued on her way to the café.
James, who had now seen that the strange alley had grown larger and larger, decided it was a shortcut home to the Ziegler family. He turned on his heel and began to walk into the alley.
As soon as James set foot inside the alley, he discovered that the opening behind him became narrower and narrower. The walls slowly began to come together and melt, just like a pair of huge, warm cheese sandwiches. In the end, there was no opening left. The dumpster was gone, as was the alley cat that had gotten caught between the opening. James became very scared and started to run.
As he ran, he noticed that he felt much lighter and much more agile than he had before. He didn't know why, but he felt like a teenager again.
He stopped and looked down at his hands, and then he saw that his hands had shrunk and changed shape. They looked younger; in fact, they looked like the kind of hands he had when he was eighteen years old.
James pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and looked at it. He let out a gasp of astonishment. In the reflection, he could see that his eyes had become larger and his dark brown hair had changed color to light brown.
James continued to run through the winding alley, which now seemed to change shape with every step he took. The walls swayed and bent as if they were alive, sometimes glittering with the same soft, green glow that had first lured him in. The air was filled with a soft whisper and small points of light that danced before his eyes, as if the alley itself were leading him forward.
With each step, James felt his body transform. His muscles became more supple, his back straighter, and his steps lighter. He could run faster than he ever had, almost as if gravity had lessened for him. His reflections in the shimmering walls showed him the change more clearly: his face became rounder, his cheeks fuller, and the deep lines around his eyes began to disappear.
When James looked down at his hands again, he saw that they were now even smaller and more youthful than before. A tingle went through his whole body, and as he ran, he felt more energetic and vibrant than he had in years. Suddenly, he realized that his voice had changed; when he panted for breath, it sounded clear and youthful, like a teenager's.
He stopped at a corner and took a few deep breaths. When he saw his reflection in a shattered mirror, he couldn't believe his eyes: he looked like he was fifteen again. His dark brown hair had lightened further, his face had the youthful firmness he had in high school, and his body was smaller, faster, almost boyish in its form.
James laughed to himself, a mixture of wonder and slight fear. "This is crazy... I've gone from being twenty-five to eighteen and now to fifteen!" he mumbled and continued to run, but now with a new kind of freedom in his steps. He felt how every movement was lighter, every jump longer, and every breath filled him with energy he hadn't felt in years.
The alley continued to wind ahead of him, and every turn and every point of light that danced in the air seemed to amplify the transformation. James felt his steps become even lighter, almost as if he could fly over the stones. His muscles felt softer, his body smaller and more childlike, and when he glanced down at his hands, he saw that they had shrunk further; now they looked like the hands of a thirteen-year-old. His face was rounder, his eyes even larger, and his voice had become lighter and more fragile, like a teenager's.
He ran on, almost unable to stop smiling, filled with a strange mixture of freedom and curiosity. The walls of the alley seemed to slide further apart and merge into soft curves, as if the whole passage were adapting to him. With every step, James felt as if time itself was winding him back even further.
Suddenly, when he glanced at a reflection in a damp wall, he couldn't believe his eyes—he was now ten years old. His body was smaller, his cheeks even rounder, and his movements were agile and almost playful, like a child who had just discovered he could run freely without hindrance. His hair had lightened further, and every breath filled him with energy and curiosity, almost as if all the world’s weight had been blown away.
James stopped for a moment, trying to take in the transformation. He smiled to himself and thought about how strange and wonderful this alley was, a place where the rules of time no longer applied and where every step could change him more than he ever could have imagined. Without hesitation, he continued to run, his heart filled with both excitement and a slight worry about what the next step would bring.
By the next dumpster, James suddenly stumbled and fell; it was as if an invisible hand had just boxed him in the back.
“What the fuck happened now?!” James exclaimed, shocked and a little scared.
Then he gasped. He no longer recognized his own voice. It couldn't possibly be him talking; sure, he was now ten years old, but a ten-year-old didn't have the same voice as a six-year-old.
James rolled over and saw that his sneakers had shrunk to child size and had also changed color from dark blue to crimson red. He looked at himself in his cell phone again.
He looked insane.
His cheeks had swollen up and become huge, his eyes were as big as saucers, his mouth was almost as small as a pearl, and his legs had become stubbier, and when he stood up, he saw that he had become smaller than the dumpster next to him.
James had become six years old.
There was no doubt about it.
James felt panic rise as he realized how small he had become. The dumpster next to him was now enormous, like a tower of metal, and the soft curves in the alley now seemed even larger and more overwhelming. But the alley allowed him no pause; as if it had a will of its own, it pushed him forward.
With his heart pounding, James started to run again, taking small, quick steps that felt almost unreal for a body that had just been ten years old. The air around him rustled, and the dancing cracks in the wall seemed to almost chase him, as if the alley wanted him to continue forward. Every step he took made him lighter, smaller, and faster all at once.
His arms and legs quickly shrank as he ran. His hands became small and rounded, like a toddler's, and his feet, now tiny as toy shoes, struck the stones with a light clicking sound. His voice changed again, higher and squeakier, almost like a small child's, and every breath filled him with new energy but also with a feeling of helplessness.
James looked down at his reflection in a puddle at the side of the road. His face was rounder than ever, his cheeks filled out, his eyes large and glittering, and his mouth so small it almost looked like a toy. His body had shrunk so much that he was now about as tall as a three-year-old.
Despite his new, tiny body, James knew he couldn't stop. The alley continued to wind ahead, and if he stopped, he would probably get stuck in one of its magical nooks. With a heart full of mixed feelings—terror, wonder, and a strange curiosity—he began to crawl and then run with his short, little legs through the enchanted passage.
Now he was three years old. Every step was like a new discovery, every turn in the alley felt gigantic. The walls rose over him like ramparts, the points of light danced above his head like small stars, and James felt how the whole world around him had become an enormous and strange place. But he continued forward, driven by the alley's mystery and a feeling that there was still something to be found further on—perhaps a way back, or perhaps something even more fantastic.
James crawled and ran the last few meters through the winding alley, his small body bouncing off the soft, undulating walls. Suddenly, the air brightened, and he felt the enchanted passage begin to open up. A stronger daylight seeped in, and before he knew it, he was standing on the sidewalk on Upper East Side Manhattan again.
Everything looked familiar—the streets, the buildings, the people walking by—but James soon realized that something was different. His small body, his three-year-old form, made everything around him now seem colossal. The cars were like rolling houses, the dogs like huge furry bears, and the sidewalk felt like a vast meadow. He tried to call for help, but his voice was small and squeaky, almost like a child's.
His gaze fell upon a luxurious townhouse a block away; it belonged to the Ziegler family. Merv Ziegler stood on the steps with his wife and son, Alexander, and James recognized them instantly.
Merv was gesticulating wildly about what seemed to be a problem with the bathroom, and his wife looked worried.
Despite his small body, James did not hesitate. He began to run toward the house, his little legs moving faster than anyone would have thought possible for a three-year-old. When he arrived, he stopped at the steps and looked up at the family. They looked down at him with surprised looks.
“Hello…?” James squeaked, his voice barely audible, but full of recognition.
Merv Ziegler bent down, staring in astonishment at the little boy in front of him, and said, “Who… who are you, kid?”
James realized he now had to explain in some way, but the words stuck in his throat. He was small, but his mind was still full of memories and experiences from his adult life. He pointed toward the house and pleaded with small, outstretched arms: “I… bathroom…!”
Merv blinked several times, as if he couldn’t understand what was happening, while James’s heart pounded with both fear and hope. He was three years old, but now he stood in front of the Ziegler family, ready to somehow complete his mission, even if he was now much smaller than ever before.
The alley had let him out, but the transformation remained. James realized that his adventure had only just begun and that he would now have to navigate Upper East Side Manhattan in his tiny body, and still try to clean the chaotic bathroom of the Ziegler family377Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ7N1mkTZtZk
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