((Apparently someone has way too much time in their hands and put a bunch
of reviews on my story bitching about how bad I am. That's kinda pathetic.
But no biggie, that's why the delete key was invented, eh heh. Sorry for
the delay...there'll probably be more. But, I have another story I'm working
on for the Cowboy Bebop fans out Check it out, if you
feel like it.))
The pain got worse. Each throb was like the beating of someone else's heart, pushing against my fragile, fleshy frame. I felt as though I was expanding, as though I were growing, or as though something were growing inside of me. More than an emotion, more than just that tortured tearing feeling that usually accompanied the sight of Aya running from me. It was physical.
Through my pain, I saw something that looked like a white butterfly, something that sailed on the waves of my pain, blurred as it floated slowly towards the ground. And only then did I see it was my bandage. The bump on my forehead erupted like a shot, flinging me to the ground with a thud that seemed far away. I was floating away, like a broken shard of wood in the ocean, and everything seemed to echo as if I was in the middle of a great hall. My body detached itself from the pain of the physical world.
And all at once I was pulled right back. My eyes went wide as I watched and felt the bump move and shift, morph and grow, lengthen to the point that it touched the ground past my feet. It smashed against the sidewalk, a lump of my flesh flowing like water across the inky black of the street. And that was it. Something inside of me just snapped and I let out a scream I could hear even through my daze. I finally had found my voice and I used it. The scream bounded almost gleefully off buildings and into the distance, echoing in waves I could see moving across the liquid surface of my vision.
I heard a sickly ripping sound as my distended skin broke against the hard road. I watched, my awe finally winning through my pain as a gleaming metallic fist burst forth, punching through the fragile fabric of my body.
"I'm dreaming," I thought, the world struggling to stay afloat in my mind, "I'm dreaming again. It's a dream...this can't happen."
The fist was followed by an arm at least twice as thick as my body, emerging smoothly through the massive hole torn in the skin that had grown to at least double my body size, flapping and shifting as the metallic arm emerged. What followed was hidden by shadow and tore the mass of flesh into several jagged strips and flung me to the ground with the force of it leaping forth into a world whose rules savagely denied its existence.
When I finally opened my eyes, the torn, stretched, battered skin was gone, as was the bump. When I finally opened my eyes, all that was left of what had seemed so real was a dull throb, a faint headache and an itch on my forehead. I blinked a few times to make sure that if I closed and opened my eyes again, I wouldn't suddenly be transported back into my nightmare. Satisfied, I pushed myself into a sitting position. I was about to let out a sigh when it suddenly caught in my throat at the sight that awaited me.
There, in front of me, was some sort of massive machine, towering over me, bathing me in a shadow that permitted no moonlight. The body of it was V-shaped, ending in a rounded tip from which sprouted hundreds of tiny spider-like metal legs, each outlined sharply by the moonlight behind. From the body sprouted two thick, heavy metal arms, which ended in huge metal fists, with individual fingers designed like smoothed-out versions of my own. They pressed against the ground, holding the beast upright as it glared at me through a single long bar planted somewhere in the upper part of the machine's middle. It glowed with electric fire. Even if it couldn't feel anger, the one slit managed it better than I ever could.
The pain got worse. Each throb was like the beating of someone else's heart, pushing against my fragile, fleshy frame. I felt as though I was expanding, as though I were growing, or as though something were growing inside of me. More than an emotion, more than just that tortured tearing feeling that usually accompanied the sight of Aya running from me. It was physical.
Through my pain, I saw something that looked like a white butterfly, something that sailed on the waves of my pain, blurred as it floated slowly towards the ground. And only then did I see it was my bandage. The bump on my forehead erupted like a shot, flinging me to the ground with a thud that seemed far away. I was floating away, like a broken shard of wood in the ocean, and everything seemed to echo as if I was in the middle of a great hall. My body detached itself from the pain of the physical world.
And all at once I was pulled right back. My eyes went wide as I watched and felt the bump move and shift, morph and grow, lengthen to the point that it touched the ground past my feet. It smashed against the sidewalk, a lump of my flesh flowing like water across the inky black of the street. And that was it. Something inside of me just snapped and I let out a scream I could hear even through my daze. I finally had found my voice and I used it. The scream bounded almost gleefully off buildings and into the distance, echoing in waves I could see moving across the liquid surface of my vision.
I heard a sickly ripping sound as my distended skin broke against the hard road. I watched, my awe finally winning through my pain as a gleaming metallic fist burst forth, punching through the fragile fabric of my body.
"I'm dreaming," I thought, the world struggling to stay afloat in my mind, "I'm dreaming again. It's a dream...this can't happen."
The fist was followed by an arm at least twice as thick as my body, emerging smoothly through the massive hole torn in the skin that had grown to at least double my body size, flapping and shifting as the metallic arm emerged. What followed was hidden by shadow and tore the mass of flesh into several jagged strips and flung me to the ground with the force of it leaping forth into a world whose rules savagely denied its existence.
When I finally opened my eyes, the torn, stretched, battered skin was gone, as was the bump. When I finally opened my eyes, all that was left of what had seemed so real was a dull throb, a faint headache and an itch on my forehead. I blinked a few times to make sure that if I closed and opened my eyes again, I wouldn't suddenly be transported back into my nightmare. Satisfied, I pushed myself into a sitting position. I was about to let out a sigh when it suddenly caught in my throat at the sight that awaited me.
There, in front of me, was some sort of massive machine, towering over me, bathing me in a shadow that permitted no moonlight. The body of it was V-shaped, ending in a rounded tip from which sprouted hundreds of tiny spider-like metal legs, each outlined sharply by the moonlight behind. From the body sprouted two thick, heavy metal arms, which ended in huge metal fists, with individual fingers designed like smoothed-out versions of my own. They pressed against the ground, holding the beast upright as it glared at me through a single long bar planted somewhere in the upper part of the machine's middle. It glowed with electric fire. Even if it couldn't feel anger, the one slit managed it better than I ever could.
