|The Cancerous Womb
||[Dec. 2nd, 2005|03:38 am]
Naked. Cold. And most of all, he was afraid and lost. He had found himself ripped from the womb of the world and thrust into the blackness of this one. He could see nothing, and he felt nothing substantial and his feet felt like they walked through water.
“Perhaps a more appropriate metaphor would be that you were taken from the cold and confusing world you were thrust into, and put back into the womb for a little while longer.”
His white skin in perfect blackness tensed and stood silent.
“Well, technically it’s not so much the womb of the world as the cancer. Or the veins. Or all those things, but let’s not let that get in the way of a healthy metaphor. I haven’t been speaking for two hundred years so I am trying to catch up on the practice of my tongue and lips.”
“No? No small talk, Nameless one? No kind words for the disembodied voice? No gentle hello? Come, I’m sure there’s a word in your throat somewhere you want to let out.”
He… He relaxed, and felt his throat scratch against itself, and his tongue, like a too large weight, bent and raised gently as Specimen 00 croaked out his word.
He doesn’t care much for the silence that follows, and attention waning, he begins to walk once more, in what direction he could not surmise, toward what goal he had no idea. But he had spent two weeks running in the same mindset, so he had no qualms doing it now. What fear he had when put into this pitch black plane of nothingness had dissolved, and though he had nothing to run from he felt a restlessness within his breast, and he continued walking through the nothing that felt like water, deep inside the womb of the world.