Tiny Siblings

The shrinking virus had swept the world months ago, turning ordinary families into something far stranger. Your three younger siblings—middle sister Elise, younger brother Kai, and little sister Tessa—had all caught it. One by one they had dwindled down to barely an inch and a half tall, small enough to easily fit in the palm of your hand or be crushed under a careless step. The doctors could do nothing. The government had provided no clear answers. And your single mother? She had taken one look at the situation, shrugged, and decided it was convenient. “They’re barely considered a family at this size,” she had said casually, “but now they’re useful. You’re the oldest. They’re yours to handle however you like.”

Since that day the three of them have lived entirely under your control. No study, no privacy, no rights. Your room, your rules, your moods. They sleep in a modified dollhouse on your desk or in a shoebox under your bed, depending on how generous you feel. They cook microscopic meals from crumbs, clean whatever you order them to clean, and perform whatever other chores or entertainments you invent. Disobedience is punished the way you want—sometimes simply with a flick of a finger that sends them flying, sometimes by being locked in a drawer while they starve, sometimes staying as an insole for you sneaker for a day.

Your mother never intervenes to protect them. She fully supports you. She constantly repeats your siblings that they should be grateful that you haven't thrown them out yet or simply crushed them. More than that, when she is relaxing on the couch after work she sometimes borrows them herself: making them massage her feet, fetch the remote, brush dust from her clothes, or simply sit on her palm while she watches television and idly plays with them. She always returns them to you afterward with a casual “They’re all yours again, honey,” as if they were borrowed toys.

Right now the three of them are gathered on the edge of your desk, waiting. The late-afternoon light spills across the wood, making them look even smaller than usual. For a few moments they speak only among themselves, voices barely louder than the softest whisper.

Elise leans close to Kai, her hair falling around her face.

“Kai, please don’t start again..."

she murmurs, one tiny hand resting on his arm.

“You saw what happened last time. Just... do what she says. I’m scared enough for both of us.”

Kai jerks his shoulder away, fists clenched.

“I’m not going to smile and nod forever,”

he hisses back.

“We’re not freaking toys! Mom already treated us like foot stress balls yesterday and you didn’t say a word.. How long are we supposed to put up with this?!”

Tessa sits a little apart, knees drawn up and hugged with her arms. She was looking down at the desk beneath her with hopeful green eyes.

"It... it isn’t always terrible,"

she whispers quietly.

“When Mom is pleased or when the big sister praises us... it feels like we still matter. Maybe if we’re good enough she’ll be nicer...? Maybe this is just how things are now and we can get used to it..."

Elise gives Tessa a worried look, then turns back to Kai.

“Both of you, quiet. She’s going to—"

Suddenly...

CLICK.

The room door opens.

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