The corridor is a really short one, but today it seems to stretch a little. Sammy and Simmy don’t notice this at first because they are busy commenting on how annoying their parents are.

They keep walking down the corridor till Sammy stops suddenly and says, “Wait, Simmy. What is going on?”

Simmy looks at his sister and then at the corridor behind them. It is shimmering and hazy. His eyes feel dazzled.

Sammy is staring ahead. The corridor looks stretchy like it was made of play dough.

“We have to go forward, I think,” she says, thoroughly confused. She is the older one – she doesn’t want Sammy to know she is clueless and suddenly very scared.

“I want to go back,” says Simmy, turning around. He takes a step towards the living room where his parents and Bobby are.

When he puts his foot out, it feels like being on an escalator, but going the wrong way. He can’t move forward. Moving at all is hard, or rather, impossible.

Sammy and Simmy stand still.

“Maybe our eyes are playing tricks, or maybe Ma is doing something to teach us a lesson,” Sammy says.

“Yes,” agrees Simmy. “She’s always trying to teach us something or the other. Last week, she hid my geography workbook for 24 hours just because I kept leaving it all over the house and forgetting where it was. I couldn’t do my homework and got a demerit in school.”

“Haha,” laughs Sammy, a little shakily. “Ma is insane.”

“But I want Ma,” says Simmy, his voice suddenly all teary and wobbly.

“It’s okay! She’s there,” Sammy points in the direction of the living room.

But the corridor is so long and bright and shimmering now that she has to shut her eyes. “Right there. We just need to get that glass of water and go back.”

“But I can’t seem to go back, Sammy, I am trying so hard but I can’t.” Simmy keeps trying to put a foot in the direction of the living room but that sense of riding an escalator the wrong way returns every time. It’s impossible.

“Let’s just go ahead and get that glass of water, okay?” Sammy says. She holds out her hand, and Simmy clutches it so hard that Sammy winces, but doesn’t tick him off as she would have on a normal day.

Going forward is easy enough, they find. Like being on a walkalator. They move forward swiftly with no trouble whatsoever through the stretchy corridor, which looks like it is made of a rubbery green and dull orange plasticine.

The stretchy corridor keeps elongating in front of them, with no end in sight. They walk on, a little like zombies, Sammy thinks, with the single-minded aim of getting a glass of water for Papa.

Finally, after what feels like ten years (but might be just ten minutes or less), they find the kitchen door on the left, exactly where it is meant to be. It’s a wooden door with the top half panelled with glass.

Sammy puts a hand on the doorknob as if in a dream. She looks through the glass and feels a rush of relief – it is their kitchen, it looks normal and cosy. Maybe they just imagined this whole lengthening and disappearing corridor rubbish.

She opens the door quickly and steps in, with Simmy still clutching her other hand. The door shuts behind them on its hinges, as always, with a small click.

But just as that click happens, the room expands. Like zooming out on an image by gliding your fingers outward on a phone screen, Sammy thinks.

The room is suddenly about four times larger than usual.

Sammy freezes, staring, not believing her eyes. Simmy, not letting go of his sister’s hand, takes a step backward, peering out over her shoulder.

The kitchen stove and counters haven’t changed; they are just much further away and there’s a lot of floor space now. The glistening black-and-white floor tiles have expanded. The floor is like a giant chessboard, rimmed by kitchen counters, a double sink, a larder, a fridge and a gas oven with burners on top. The fridge is where it’s supposed to be, but it has expanded along with the floor and tiles. It’s huge, taking up a lot of space from the floor to the ceiling and sideways too. It’s a brand-new, steel-grey fridge that Papa loves, with double doors and many fancy new features. Sammy and Simmy had hardly paid any attention to it before, but now they are astonished by how gigantic it is – by how its gleaming, steely surface looks almost like a mirror.

They find themselves taking a slow step towards the fridge when they hear someone clearing their throat, just behind them.

It’s Papa!

Sammy and Simmy have never felt so delighted to see their father ever before. They rush towards him and hug him as tightly as they can. They are so relieved to see him, so very happy!

Papa slowly but firmly holds their arms and pushes them away. Gently, but it’s a strange thing for their loving Papa to do. They look up at his face in surprise.

Something is wrong. It is Papa, and it isn’t.

Sammy and Simmy’s hearts sink as they look at him. Their father is a kind man, but this Papa has a cruel look in his eyes that is impossible to miss. They look into Papa’s eyes, mesmerised, and they know something is terribly wrong.

Is this really Papa? The eyes aren’t his.

Excerpted with permission from Game On!, Himanjali Sankar, illustrated by Chetan Sharma, Duckbill.