- Joined
- Jul 28, 2020
- Messages
- 35
- Essence
- €5,938
- Coin
- ₡500
- Tokens
- 0
- World
- Erde Nona
- Profile
- Click Here
Eyes.
If I could just open my eyes.
The world around me had been crushed to blackness, as I tried feebly to push them open, to perceive the familiar light of my chambers. Nightmares still clung feebly to my mind as I fought the sleep paralysis, desperately trying to move something, anything. It had been a long time since I’d dealt with the yawning specter of a body that didn’t listen - not since I’d been a teenager. I’d even given Lan advice on the problem the other day, or rather, Prima, since Lan-
Prima. Lan.
The Darkness started to clear around my eyes as I finally opened them, dim, disgusting surroundings that were illuminated in awful clarity as my nose started working.
Things smelled damp, fetid, but oddly not unpleasant. My surroundings were massive, a tunnel complex many times my own size, and grey, lit just well enough to see but lacking in any true color to my eyes. I couldn’t feel my legs or hands, nor was this Any place where I had ever been. Where was my home? Where were my servants?
I went to move a leg out of reflex, and my brain skipped a step as something moved. Click-clack. The tap of something alien moving under my own power. I could feel my leg, feel the touch going through it, but it was wrong. It was shaped wrong, it felt wrong, like I was moving my knee. Like nothing existed below that knee.
Strange growths sat at the end of my vision, as I could suddenly feel an array of unfamiliar sensations, and I tried to raise my head. My neck came up as I tried to open my mouth and speak, but nothing came of it - my neck felt sealed.
It was at this point that I realised I hadn’t breathed since I’d awoken, and my mind began to whirl in panic as I stumbled forward. what was going on?
I fell forward on my legs, my panic and fear spurred by the feeling of many legs, many legs that started at my neck. I wasn’t right - this wasn’t right. An illusion, or a medical dissociation, or even a hallucination, I reckoned, and I stumbled forward despite it, running on feet that were all wrong, looking around the caverns that were all wrong, as I felt it rush back to me. I hadn’t fallen asleep last night, or if I had I was caught in a dark nightmare, and as I rushed through the tunnels I felt like I should be vomiting, but this body seemed to disagree.
The horror of it, of Sandro, came back to me in waves, chilling this borrowed body, leaving me breathless, disoriented. Alone.
I remembered fallen friends, and grief gave me speed. I remembered rage, and it gave me direction. But then, I remembered him. What he had said to me. What he had done to me…
I remembered the horror, as my reflection shone in the water. The face of a maggot, the legs-that-weren’t-legs, but just the undulating pieces of my own body, the misshapen mandibles and antenne, the horror of being able to match the strange sensations and feelings of touch to the features I now possessed.
Panic overwhelmed me, and something in the distance screamed, a shrill, high-pitched screech. It took me a few seconds to realise it was me, and the realisation would not stop me.
If I could just open my eyes.
The world around me had been crushed to blackness, as I tried feebly to push them open, to perceive the familiar light of my chambers. Nightmares still clung feebly to my mind as I fought the sleep paralysis, desperately trying to move something, anything. It had been a long time since I’d dealt with the yawning specter of a body that didn’t listen - not since I’d been a teenager. I’d even given Lan advice on the problem the other day, or rather, Prima, since Lan-
Prima. Lan.
The Darkness started to clear around my eyes as I finally opened them, dim, disgusting surroundings that were illuminated in awful clarity as my nose started working.
Things smelled damp, fetid, but oddly not unpleasant. My surroundings were massive, a tunnel complex many times my own size, and grey, lit just well enough to see but lacking in any true color to my eyes. I couldn’t feel my legs or hands, nor was this Any place where I had ever been. Where was my home? Where were my servants?
I went to move a leg out of reflex, and my brain skipped a step as something moved. Click-clack. The tap of something alien moving under my own power. I could feel my leg, feel the touch going through it, but it was wrong. It was shaped wrong, it felt wrong, like I was moving my knee. Like nothing existed below that knee.
Strange growths sat at the end of my vision, as I could suddenly feel an array of unfamiliar sensations, and I tried to raise my head. My neck came up as I tried to open my mouth and speak, but nothing came of it - my neck felt sealed.
It was at this point that I realised I hadn’t breathed since I’d awoken, and my mind began to whirl in panic as I stumbled forward. what was going on?
I fell forward on my legs, my panic and fear spurred by the feeling of many legs, many legs that started at my neck. I wasn’t right - this wasn’t right. An illusion, or a medical dissociation, or even a hallucination, I reckoned, and I stumbled forward despite it, running on feet that were all wrong, looking around the caverns that were all wrong, as I felt it rush back to me. I hadn’t fallen asleep last night, or if I had I was caught in a dark nightmare, and as I rushed through the tunnels I felt like I should be vomiting, but this body seemed to disagree.
The horror of it, of Sandro, came back to me in waves, chilling this borrowed body, leaving me breathless, disoriented. Alone.
I remembered fallen friends, and grief gave me speed. I remembered rage, and it gave me direction. But then, I remembered him. What he had said to me. What he had done to me…
I remembered the horror, as my reflection shone in the water. The face of a maggot, the legs-that-weren’t-legs, but just the undulating pieces of my own body, the misshapen mandibles and antenne, the horror of being able to match the strange sensations and feelings of touch to the features I now possessed.
Panic overwhelmed me, and something in the distance screamed, a shrill, high-pitched screech. It took me a few seconds to realise it was me, and the realisation would not stop me.