Saffire Persian
2nd June 2006, 12:22 PM
Since it's been awhile since I've posted writing of any kind, and I frankly don't know when the next chapter of Metamorphosis will be up due to the fact I'm participating in, I thought I might as well post a small preview for a One-Shotish type story that will be done sometime in the near future. It's going to be a long One-Shot, granted, divided into three segments. (Realization, Recognition, Resolution). It's also my first time attempting to do it in something in First Person. Its in a rough draft form, so things such as dialogue might be a bit different from what you see here.
Being Human
Pt. I: Realization
re·al·i·za·tion
n. Making real or giving the appearance of reality
I don’t know where I am.
My eyes are closed, and I know I’m sitting against a hard, stone floor. It’s cold, dark, damp. I don’t dare open my eyes, because I don’t know what I’ll see.
Where am I?
I feel as if I’m waking up from a very long sleep, and as I begin to become more aware, I hear singing. Strange singing. Rhythmic. Every measure is structured accordingly, the voices in complete synergy with one another. In its own way, it’s beautiful.
Unown…unown….unown…unown.
I slowly open my eyes. It’s dark, but I’m in the center some room, outlined with odd writings on the walls – writing that look like the figures that are in front of me, hovering in the air. There are hundreds of them, in different shapes and sizes. They are forming a complete, geometric circle, and glowing with a purple aura.
Unown…unown…unown…unown…
I blink. Where am I?
I feel as if they are turning toward me, staring at me. They are strange beings, and there is something mysterious about them… but they seem…
Unown…unown…unown…unown...
…kind.
Please… I say. I have their complete attention. Who am I? What am I?
It takes a minute before a voice responds – no, not a voice, but many, all speaking in perfect sycronized union.
You are… HUMAN.
And somehow, someway, even though they do not say it, I can feel that they are proud.
Being Human
Pt. I: Realization
re·al·i·za·tion
n. Making real or giving the appearance of reality
I don’t know where I am.
My eyes are closed, and I know I’m sitting against a hard, stone floor. It’s cold, dark, damp. I don’t dare open my eyes, because I don’t know what I’ll see.
Where am I?
I feel as if I’m waking up from a very long sleep, and as I begin to become more aware, I hear singing. Strange singing. Rhythmic. Every measure is structured accordingly, the voices in complete synergy with one another. In its own way, it’s beautiful.
Unown…unown….unown…unown.
I slowly open my eyes. It’s dark, but I’m in the center some room, outlined with odd writings on the walls – writing that look like the figures that are in front of me, hovering in the air. There are hundreds of them, in different shapes and sizes. They are forming a complete, geometric circle, and glowing with a purple aura.
Unown…unown…unown…unown…
I blink. Where am I?
I feel as if they are turning toward me, staring at me. They are strange beings, and there is something mysterious about them… but they seem…
Unown…unown…unown…unown...
…kind.
Please… I say. I have their complete attention. Who am I? What am I?
It takes a minute before a voice responds – no, not a voice, but many, all speaking in perfect sycronized union.
You are… HUMAN.
And somehow, someway, even though they do not say it, I can feel that they are proud.