Holiday Tradition

"Hey, guys! Look what I found!" little Rohan exclaimed, holding up an old box from the attic.

The family, busy packing for their vacation, gathered around. "What's in the box?" Mrs. Sharma asked, curiosity piqued.

Rohan opened the box, revealing a set of dice, and a note. "It's a holiday tradition from Great Grandfather's time!" he read out. "A role-swapping game using these dice. Each number corresponds to a different role. The role must be played diligently for 24 hours."

The family looked at each other and shrugged. "Why not? It sounds like fun!" Priya, their daughter said.

They rolled the dice, and the roles were assigned. Mr. Sharma became "Grandma," Rohan became "Mom," Priya became “Rohan”, Grandma became “Priya” and Mrs. Sharma became "Dad." The kids giggled as they took on their new roles.

As they continued the game, they found themselves getting into character. "Grandma" Mr. Sharma was surprisingly good at baking, while "Mom" Rohan took charge of getting the kids ready for bed.

The family laughed and enjoyed the role-swapping, feeling like they were really getting into their new roles. But as the day went on, they started to notice something strange. 

The roles didn't seem to be just pretend anymore.

"Wait a minute...I think I'm actually starting to feel like Grandma," Mr. Sharma said, his voice shaking slightly.

"Dad..," Rohan replied. "I feel like I'm really my mom!"

As the realization dawned on them, the family's smiles faltered. They looked at each other, and their eyes widened in terror.

"What's happening?" Mrs. Sharma whispered, her voice now deep and masculine.

The family stared at each other, frozen in shock. They were no longer playing a game. They had become their new roles.

Each night, they gathered around the cursed box, rolling and praying to reclaim their true selves. But with every roll, the roles shifted—always eerily mismatched, never quite right. There were - as strangers in familiar skin.

The family got trapped in Great Grandfather’s twisted holiday tradition.

• The End