Unlike the expected image of a tired and war torn poodle dog with one leg that was Charles forsmith was his old reflection of what he once was. What he dreamed of for years and what he deemed was the true face of himself. “Yes…Forsmith…You are doing well. Keep staring into the mirror and it shall set you free!” Suddenly the young RAF pilot jumped out of the mirror and phased through the tired and war torn poodle dog. His body refused to defend itself and the mind began to collapse from the rising water and the laughter beginning again.

The next moment he woke up at 5 a.m sharp. Everyone groaned that there was another day to be had and Forsmith was no exception. He got up from his bed and began to feel strange. The aches from getting up were gone and he felt thick hair on his head. Upon looking at his arms he saw that they were thick and filled with muscle mass. He got up into the mirror in near excitement and saw that he was the young and ambitious piglet that he once was..no what he is! Despite it 5 in the mourning it felt as if he could run to the moon and back. He screamed yes and went back to his bed to check his belongings before he felt a tap on his shoulder.

“What are you so excited about then? Are they actually serving real food for breakfast?” Said a thick Northumbrian accent. Forsmith turned around that it was no one else but William foster. It was as if he wish for the past decades were nothing but a nightmare. But now from the joy came confusion as how did this all happen. Was the end of the world just a dream, foster’s death or what about that resistance against king Sombra? Or could he just blame it all on a case of mixing up too many drinks. Forsmith ignored his friend’s question and went back to the mirror to look at his younger self. Sure enough the young ambitions with no evidence of war on his face stared back and King Sombra.