Ethan rummaged through the attic, the wooden floor creaking beneath his sneakers. His fingers brushed against an old, leather-bound book, its cover adorned with bizarre symbols. Curiosity piqued, he blew off the dust, revealing the title: "Rituals of the Forgotten."

Ethan sat cross-legged on his bed, the book open before him. "Let's see if this actually works," he muttered, tracing a finger along the page. He whispered the incantation, a strange energy tingling at his fingertips. Downstairs, Linda, his mother, paused mid-dishwashing, her eyes glazing over.

Linda stood motionless, a sponge in her hand. Ethan sauntered in, a smug grin on his face. "Mom, make me a sandwich," he commanded. Linda turned robotically to the fridge. Ethan chuckled, "This is going to be fun."

Ethan lounged on the couch, feet propped on the coffee table. "Clean this mess, Mom," he ordered, not bothering to look up. Linda moved to obey, her face devoid of expression. As she tidied, her hands moved mechanically, like a puppet on strings.

Ethan surveyed the scene, his eyes landing on Linda, who was dutifully setting up chairs. The neighbors watched, bemused by her odd behavior. "Mom, dance!" Ethan shouted, barely stifling his laughter. Linda began to sway awkwardly, drawing curious stares.

Linda's neighbor, Mrs. Jenkins, approached Ethan, her brow furrowed. "Is everything alright with your mom?" she asked, suspicion in her voice. Ethan hesitated, guilt creeping in. The fun was turning sour, and the reality of his actions was dawning on him.

Ethan sat alone, the ritual book open once more. "I have to fix this," he whispered, scanning for a reversal spell. With trembling hands, he chanted the words, hoping for a miracle. Downstairs, Linda blinked, confusion replacing the vacant stare. A sense of normalcy returned, albeit with an unspoken understanding between mother and son.