Thursday, September 4, 2008
♥ Sakuya: Prolouge (In Character)
A green glow surface all around, all around me, everywhere my sheilded eyes looked, it was a green haze. And I was floating, hovering like a helicopter about to pick up more passengers and then surge off once again. But something was caressing my skin, something soft and massaging...
But it wasn't any of those things.
My blue eyes had finally opened their lids, taking in not only a green sight but to be attacked by whatever it was surrounding me. I was trapped, encased in something of glass, the weight of this liquid all about me with its emerald hue feel as if it was crushing down on me. There were wires, tubes, all pointing to me. Needles buried within my skin. A mask about my face. I was naked except for the mask and tube that allowed air to reach my nose and mouth and another that stretched across my waist and encased it save for places for my legs. They were free, and they were floating in what seemed to be a world without gravity's rules. And no artificial gravity to enforce anything, nothing holding me back.
There were faces through that transparent glass. But they were gone, sheilded behind a wave of blur before everything went black again.
Her face. It was sweet and kind, smiling at me with a grin that only could tell me one thing. This woman loved me. She loved me in a way that no one else could ever, the woman that had gone through nine months of painstaking work and the hours of labor to give life. And I would never see her again. She was smiling at me, my mother. Her face was framed with her black hair, streaming down the sides of her cheeks with the grace of a small stream. Her eyes were more blue than the sky above, hinted with a touch of gray. Her asian body was thin featuring curves most women would covet. Her skin was smooth, hardly ever aged, indicating her youth. She was young just as I was, for I only stood at her knees. I couldn't reach over the high counters to snatch cookies or snacks. Of course, I couldn't anyway. We couldn't afford junk food. We were poorer than ever after the apocolypse. Food was hard to come by without a man around the house to take care of us. My mother's thin body wasn't because she hate healthy. It was because she was starving. She starved herself for me. I hate hungrily as she watched, only nibbling on what was left. I was too young to realize.
The last I saw of my dying mother was her outstretched arms inches from mine, then feet, then yards, then miles... Tears had been flooding down her silk cheeks, ruining the sight of her brilliance. She was a woman that shouldn't be crying. Her screaming was the last that I heard, shouting for the men to give me back. And then beatings. I heard crashes against her bones and her cries in pain. But I was too far away. I couldn't reach her.. The men were laughing. That was the day.. I died..
There were so many needles. They were all in my skin. My arms were cold, feeling the flood of cold liqiuds in my blood. I shivered, struggling to grasp my body and keep it warm, but I couldn't move. I was held down. There was nothing I could do. I cried. The pain struck hard across my face. But I cried again. More stinging across my face. The tears blurred my vision. Suck it up, the voices told me. Shut the fuck up, another screamed. I bit down on the corners of my mouth to silence my fears. But the tears couldn't be held back by feeble flood gates.
A sensation struck my chest, a kind of floating feeling. Relaxing spread through my body. My heart was racing, yet I didn't care at all. I felt confusion, but nothing of it. No fear or wondering why. Next, was the stabbing pain. It hit me hard in the gut. Too hard. I lost my vision again.
It was like this as far back as I can recall, when I am well enough to recall... except for her face. Her grinning face. It was a blurry picture that I strained to recall. Would death free me from this, I wondered. Would death come and grant my wish to see her again?
As the years past, though it seemed eternity for me, those men tested and tested. They, clad in their white lab coats and masks and goggles, put more and more foreign substances within me. Some brought too much stabbing that I passed out. Others brought a high I cannot even describe. Others even brought a satisfaction that I craved, a satisfaction that followed an immense high as if I was walking on air. They poked and prodded, even touching me in ways I had never known. More needles, more artificial food, more water..
But as the time was cast away.. I didn't crave food. I had a burning in my throat food never stopped or water never quenched. And it wasn't until a man cut himself one day, a clumsy fool, that the stench of blood made it worse.
It was that day that I couldn't control myself. I was bigger now, my feet stretching down the metal table they had for me. When I had first arrived, I could barely reach the straps they tied to me. Now, I was almost fitting the table perfectly. He was doing something. I couldn't quite see. My vision was shit at that time. With my head to the side, his blurry shape was cutting something. He soon winced. "Ah.. shit, man.."
"What's going on?"
"Ah.. I fucked up the sample. I cut myself, dammit.."
"Well, get the first air ki-..!"
"What, sir? What's wro...?!!"
They had both stopped. Why? Why had they? I was watching both of their shapes with interest, intense interest. The burning in my throat had driven this without my realization. I was watching them because the blood had triggered an artificial instinct. I soon felt something hard against my lips on other side, poking out of my mouth at the corners. My vision cleared in the snap of fingers, seeing details I had never dreamed of. I could see the stitches of the labcoats, the smallest droplets of blood dripping from the man's fingers. Even the strands of hair growing out of his head.
The burning was too much. It made my hands struggle, tugging at the restaints futilely. When I snapped one, both man ran, screaming down the halls for help.
But it wasn't any of those things.
My blue eyes had finally opened their lids, taking in not only a green sight but to be attacked by whatever it was surrounding me. I was trapped, encased in something of glass, the weight of this liquid all about me with its emerald hue feel as if it was crushing down on me. There were wires, tubes, all pointing to me. Needles buried within my skin. A mask about my face. I was naked except for the mask and tube that allowed air to reach my nose and mouth and another that stretched across my waist and encased it save for places for my legs. They were free, and they were floating in what seemed to be a world without gravity's rules. And no artificial gravity to enforce anything, nothing holding me back.
There were faces through that transparent glass. But they were gone, sheilded behind a wave of blur before everything went black again.
Her face. It was sweet and kind, smiling at me with a grin that only could tell me one thing. This woman loved me. She loved me in a way that no one else could ever, the woman that had gone through nine months of painstaking work and the hours of labor to give life. And I would never see her again. She was smiling at me, my mother. Her face was framed with her black hair, streaming down the sides of her cheeks with the grace of a small stream. Her eyes were more blue than the sky above, hinted with a touch of gray. Her asian body was thin featuring curves most women would covet. Her skin was smooth, hardly ever aged, indicating her youth. She was young just as I was, for I only stood at her knees. I couldn't reach over the high counters to snatch cookies or snacks. Of course, I couldn't anyway. We couldn't afford junk food. We were poorer than ever after the apocolypse. Food was hard to come by without a man around the house to take care of us. My mother's thin body wasn't because she hate healthy. It was because she was starving. She starved herself for me. I hate hungrily as she watched, only nibbling on what was left. I was too young to realize.
The last I saw of my dying mother was her outstretched arms inches from mine, then feet, then yards, then miles... Tears had been flooding down her silk cheeks, ruining the sight of her brilliance. She was a woman that shouldn't be crying. Her screaming was the last that I heard, shouting for the men to give me back. And then beatings. I heard crashes against her bones and her cries in pain. But I was too far away. I couldn't reach her.. The men were laughing. That was the day.. I died..
There were so many needles. They were all in my skin. My arms were cold, feeling the flood of cold liqiuds in my blood. I shivered, struggling to grasp my body and keep it warm, but I couldn't move. I was held down. There was nothing I could do. I cried. The pain struck hard across my face. But I cried again. More stinging across my face. The tears blurred my vision. Suck it up, the voices told me. Shut the fuck up, another screamed. I bit down on the corners of my mouth to silence my fears. But the tears couldn't be held back by feeble flood gates.
A sensation struck my chest, a kind of floating feeling. Relaxing spread through my body. My heart was racing, yet I didn't care at all. I felt confusion, but nothing of it. No fear or wondering why. Next, was the stabbing pain. It hit me hard in the gut. Too hard. I lost my vision again.
It was like this as far back as I can recall, when I am well enough to recall... except for her face. Her grinning face. It was a blurry picture that I strained to recall. Would death free me from this, I wondered. Would death come and grant my wish to see her again?
As the years past, though it seemed eternity for me, those men tested and tested. They, clad in their white lab coats and masks and goggles, put more and more foreign substances within me. Some brought too much stabbing that I passed out. Others brought a high I cannot even describe. Others even brought a satisfaction that I craved, a satisfaction that followed an immense high as if I was walking on air. They poked and prodded, even touching me in ways I had never known. More needles, more artificial food, more water..
But as the time was cast away.. I didn't crave food. I had a burning in my throat food never stopped or water never quenched. And it wasn't until a man cut himself one day, a clumsy fool, that the stench of blood made it worse.
It was that day that I couldn't control myself. I was bigger now, my feet stretching down the metal table they had for me. When I had first arrived, I could barely reach the straps they tied to me. Now, I was almost fitting the table perfectly. He was doing something. I couldn't quite see. My vision was shit at that time. With my head to the side, his blurry shape was cutting something. He soon winced. "Ah.. shit, man.."
"What's going on?"
"Ah.. I fucked up the sample. I cut myself, dammit.."
"Well, get the first air ki-..!"
"What, sir? What's wro...?!!"
They had both stopped. Why? Why had they? I was watching both of their shapes with interest, intense interest. The burning in my throat had driven this without my realization. I was watching them because the blood had triggered an artificial instinct. I soon felt something hard against my lips on other side, poking out of my mouth at the corners. My vision cleared in the snap of fingers, seeing details I had never dreamed of. I could see the stitches of the labcoats, the smallest droplets of blood dripping from the man's fingers. Even the strands of hair growing out of his head.
The burning was too much. It made my hands struggle, tugging at the restaints futilely. When I snapped one, both man ran, screaming down the halls for help.
♥ My
doll smiled.
3:02 PM
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3:02 PM
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