'Is that... a baby crying?' Ryan thought to himself as he continued staring into the endless blue expanse above, his mind struggling to process this impossible reality. The sound was definitely crying - that distinctive, urgent wailing that only infants seemed capable of producing. But the strangest part was how close it sounded, as if the source was right there with him.
'But where is it? And why can't I move that well? It's like all I can do is wiggle my body... and wait, why can't I speak?'
The questions flooded his brain like water through a burst dam, each new realization more confusing and terrifying than the last. He tried to sit up, tried to turn his head to locate the crying baby, but his body felt impossibly weak and uncoordinated. His limbs seemed to have a mind of their own, moving in jerky, uncontrolled motions that bore no resemblance to the precise movements he remembered commanding just... how long ago had it been?
Panic began to creep into his thoughts as he attempted to call out, to ask someone - anyone - what was happening to him. But when he opened his mouth, the only sound that emerged was a continuation of that same crying he'd been hearing. The wailing grew louder, more distressed, and with dawning horror, he realized the sound was coming from his own throat.
For several long, terrifying moments, Ryan lay there in this impossible state, his mind racing while his body remained frustratingly beyond his control. The blue sky above seemed to mock him with its serene beauty, offering no answers to the nightmare he found himself trapped within.
Then, just as he thought he might lose his sanity entirely, something changed in his field of vision. A shadow passed over him, blocking out a portion of the brilliant sky, and suddenly a face appeared above him - a woman's face, looking down with an expression of gentle curiosity and concern.
'Who is... she?' Ryan stared upward, trying desperately to speak, to ask her what was happening, where he was, what had been done to him. But his attempts at communication only resulted in more of that helpless crying.
The woman had a remarkably calming presence about her, something in her demeanor that seemed to ease the sharp edge of his panic just by her proximity. Simply looking at her face seemed to soothe some of the frantic worry that had been consuming him. She appeared to be in her thirties, with long black hair woven into an intricate braid that hung over her shoulder. Her clothing was simple but well-made - a earth-toned dress that seemed practical rather than fashionable, cut from fabric that looked handwoven and sturdy.
What struck him most, however, was how foreign everything about her seemed. Her features, while kind, had an exotic quality that he couldn't place. Her clothing style was unlike anything he'd seen in his modern suburban world. Even the way she carried herself spoke of a different time, a different place, a different way of life entirely.
As he watched, still crying involuntarily, the woman bent down slowly toward where he lay. 'What is she doing?' The question had barely formed in his mind when it was answered in the most shocking way possible.
Her hands, warm and gentle, slipped beneath his sides and began to lift him from whatever surface he'd been lying on. Ryan's mind reeled in immediate shock and disbelief. 'Why is she picking me up?! Actually, screw that - how is she picking me up?! I'm fully grown and she doesn't look all that strong-'
His frantic thoughts were cut short as his eyes, wandering around in nervous confusion as he was lifted, caught sight of something that made his entire world tilt on its axis. It was his hands - except they weren't his hands. These were tiny, pudgy little appendages with impossibly small fingers that moved without any of the coordination he remembered possessing.
His gaze darted frantically to his feet, and the same impossible truth stared back at him. Small, soft, unmistakably infant feet kicked weakly in the air. As his eyes took in the rest of what should have been his familiar teenage body, the terrifying reality crashed down on him like an avalanche.
'I... I'm... I'M THE CRYING BABY?!'
The mental scream echoed through his consciousness as he stared at his own impossibly small hands in absolute disbelief. This couldn't be real. This couldn't be happening. He was seventeen years old, nearly eighteen, about to graduate from high school. He wasn't supposed to be... this.
Before his frantic thoughts could spiral any further into panic, the woman who was now cradling him in her arms began to speak. Her voice was warm and melodious, with an accent he couldn't identify but found strangely comforting.
"Aww, hi there, sweetheart," she cooed, her face breaking into a gentle smile as she looked down at him. "Who would leave such a cute baby out here all alone?"
She puffed up her cheeks slightly as she spoke, adopting the universal tone that adults everywhere seemed to use when addressing infants. The sound of her voice, despite the baby talk, carried genuine affection and concern.
"Well, no matter," she continued, adjusting her hold on him so that he felt more secure in her arms. "I'll make sure you have a fine childhood here. Let's get you something to eat, little one."
Ryan listened to her speak, his mind still reeling from the shock of his situation. The words seemed to float around him like pieces of a puzzle he couldn't quite fit together. 'Did I... d-did I... reincarnate?? That's actually a thing?!'
The concept seemed impossible, like something out of the fantasy novels he'd occasionally read when he could still summon the energy to care about fictional worlds. 'Out of all the possibilities - afterlife, ghosts, nothingness, out of all the religions and theories - I reincarnate! Is this some kind of cruel joke?'
The irony wasn't lost on him. He had spent years questioning why he was still alive, feeling disconnected from life itself, essentially waiting to die. And now, having finally achieved that release, he'd been thrust right back into existence - forced to start over from the very beginning.
'I wasn't happy with life and died, and I simply got turned around and sent back to start over!! This has to be some kind of joke... and moreover, where the hell am I?! This doesn't look like anywhere I know of.'
As the woman began walking, carrying him with ease, Ryan's infant eyes took in the landscape around them. Rolling grass plains stretched out in every direction, dotted with wildflowers he didn't recognize and trees that seemed somehow different from those where he lived. The air smelled cleaner, more natural, without the underlying hints of car exhaust and industrial pollutants that had been the constant background of his previous life.
The building the woman was approaching looked like something out of a historical documentary. It was constructed of what appeared to be hand-hewn stone and timber, with a wood roof and small windows that spoke of a time before modern architecture and mass production. Smoke curled lazily from a stone chimney, and the whole structure had an organic quality that suggested it had grown from the landscape rather than been imposed upon it.
'Did I reincarnate back in time or something?!' The thought struck him as they crossed the threshold into the building's interior, and his confusion only deepened as he took in his surroundings.