Brilliant, blinding orange-red light filled my eyes. Microscopic knives stabbed through my retinas and into the front of my brain, where it pulsated to the back of my skull. My throat and tongue tasted like cotton, and my neck was terribly stiff and sore.
That's the first thing I remember: the pain. It was all over, shooting through my limbs at a speed that defied imagination, but it can't be described purely as pain. It was more like the delectable soreness that comes after using muscles that haven't had anything demanded of hem in a long while. The kind of pain that is so intense it provides an almost sexual pleasure.
My newly reawakened senses were nowhere near capable of handling this powerful pleasure/pain, and my nervous system screamed to be free of it while at the same time, it seemed to be screaming for more.
The indecisiveness of my body tortured my mind all the more and the electrical signals connecting the two shattered, causing me to go into violent paroxysms.
My mind fought for control of my raging body, and at some point during this extreme power-struggle my eyelids flew open, exposing my newborn-esque pupils to the dazzling light that had, merely filtered through the skin of my eyelids, caused me such severe pain.
I let out a keening wail of agony that exploded a glass beaker resting next to me, sending razor-sharp shards of glass flying to pierce my delicate skin.
I floundered off the table I had been lying on and fell sharply on the cold flagstone floor. I heard another voice, but I couldn't distinguish words or separate syllables; it did, however, seem to be rising in exultation. I felt cold hands on my naked body; hands that weren't strong enough to life me to my feet.
I squirmed and twisted away, simply wishing to get my bearings, but the horrid thing wouldn't leave me be. I shoved it away - perhaps pushing too hard - for I heard the sound of a heavy object crashing to the floor, then the sound of bare feet slapping the flagstone in a pattern that bore the thing with cold hands away from me.
I stilled my body, and I lay for a moment with my cheek pressed to the comforting coolness of the floor. In a motion that was remembered, but remembered for a much smaller body, I heaved myself to my feet and cast about for a cloak or a covering of some sort; finding an overcoat that just barely clasped about my large form, I donned it and set to finding the cold-handed person who had attempted to help me.
That's the first thing I remember: the pain. It was all over, shooting through my limbs at a speed that defied imagination, but it can't be described purely as pain. It was more like the delectable soreness that comes after using muscles that haven't had anything demanded of hem in a long while. The kind of pain that is so intense it provides an almost sexual pleasure.
My newly reawakened senses were nowhere near capable of handling this powerful pleasure/pain, and my nervous system screamed to be free of it while at the same time, it seemed to be screaming for more.
The indecisiveness of my body tortured my mind all the more and the electrical signals connecting the two shattered, causing me to go into violent paroxysms.
My mind fought for control of my raging body, and at some point during this extreme power-struggle my eyelids flew open, exposing my newborn-esque pupils to the dazzling light that had, merely filtered through the skin of my eyelids, caused me such severe pain.
I let out a keening wail of agony that exploded a glass beaker resting next to me, sending razor-sharp shards of glass flying to pierce my delicate skin.
I floundered off the table I had been lying on and fell sharply on the cold flagstone floor. I heard another voice, but I couldn't distinguish words or separate syllables; it did, however, seem to be rising in exultation. I felt cold hands on my naked body; hands that weren't strong enough to life me to my feet.
I squirmed and twisted away, simply wishing to get my bearings, but the horrid thing wouldn't leave me be. I shoved it away - perhaps pushing too hard - for I heard the sound of a heavy object crashing to the floor, then the sound of bare feet slapping the flagstone in a pattern that bore the thing with cold hands away from me.
I stilled my body, and I lay for a moment with my cheek pressed to the comforting coolness of the floor. In a motion that was remembered, but remembered for a much smaller body, I heaved myself to my feet and cast about for a cloak or a covering of some sort; finding an overcoat that just barely clasped about my large form, I donned it and set to finding the cold-handed person who had attempted to help me.