Where do I start, isn't it a strange-wordless art? That few words have the capability to shape and create a world anew. An unknown welder and weaver of words that can create and destroy a world, a person that simply does-not-exist.
I am a shapeless thing, born of dark, death too dark. I wake in a pit as black and oily as tar. I see with not eyes, and hear all encompassing silence with my not ears. My thoughts as hollow and void as the tar around me. Thick and oily it is, but still it moves as if it breathes. I do not know who I am, I do not know what I am, I do not care. I am.
I am awake now, I see with my not eyes, hear with my not ears, feel with my not skin; thick oily tar which holds me. I do not want to go to sleep. I move, I feel like I moved? The tar has not moved but I float, but don't float in this darkness. Maybe I can swim, but what is it to swim without water? Surely I'll need air? But I do not have lungs to fill. My not eyebrows creased and my not head hurt. I move, but I do not know how. I don't want to be here, I do not want to be in the place I am born, or I will die. I want to go home. I claw at the tar around me with my not hands, hoping to find the surface of this not water.
Why am I here? What do I care, I want to leave. I want to leave. The tar feels like it is drowning me, my not lungs filling with oil, my not head feeling like a sponge consuming the darkness. A sponge? Why would I be a sponge? My not throat hurts, I kick with my... legs? I feel desperate..... I...feel? I must swim, I must swim or I'll drown, I'm going to drown. I don't want to die, I just awoke, I don't want to sleep-I want to go home.
Kick, Scratch, BREATHE. Where is the surface? My not body is in pain, my every not cell is being consumed by the tar that made me, my stomach is filled with hate and hurt, sorrow, joy, and love. I feel. I feel with my not heart, the second one that does not beat in the world apart. I feel like I will drown, but I don't have lungs? But I feel the pain of being formed into something new, no longer a soul in the dark. What am I? I do not care, I must find the surface or I might just disappear.
Kick, claw, breathe, FEEL. Why do I worry, I can breath the tar as easily as air. Air? This is not air, I do not need lungs to breath in this void.
Kick, claw, breathe, think. My not head hurts, I do not like to think, why am I doing this? Where am I going?
Kick, claw, breathe. I feel like I am swimming, why does this void not look so black? Kick, claw, breathe. It feels heavier, I feel so heavy.
Kick, claw, breathe. I can feel the weight of my being?
Kick, claw, breathe. I see glistening light above me? The pit never felt so crushing, its grasp never felt so cool.
Kick, claw, breathe. I see, I see? Blurry movement beside me.
Kick, claw, I cannot breath. My chest ached and my head pounded. I must swim, I need to SWIM, I need to breathe!
Kick, claw, I cannot breathe. I see with my not eyes the surface, I see with my not eyes-my not hands, my not legs below.
I break the surface with my not face, I cough tar oily and black, breathing cool sharp air with my not lungs. I shiver, paddling to a shore I wasn't sure was there with my not body. I see a black sky of stars above, with my blurry not eyes. I am now, no longer formless.
YOU ARE READING
Finding My Way Home
FantasyA journey of sorts, finding my way home-to a place unknown. A girl, born to dark and death to dark, but still she doesn't know her home, or who she is. She finds a boy on a shore, in the middle of nowhere, or is it the other way round?
