Snippets and stories

Xyon

Puts the Fun in Dysfunctional
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See? Told you I'd forget about it. And yet, by posting in it, I negate that effect - I didn't actually forget, I just had nothing worth posting, so I didn't post. Would that much of the rest of the so-called "blogosphere" followed a similar principle - Got nothing to say? Then say nothing.

There now follows a small snippet of writing I dumped into IRC and pastebin a while back, edited a little to make it work better;



I remember a warm, comfortable, dark place. I liked it there, peaceful and calm as it was. I spent much time pushing around through the fluid that surrounded me, dimly aware of light outside, and noises, one in particular which seemed very loud. Occasionally the outermost extremes of my environment would come folding in to touch a foot, or a hand, and I would lash out instinctively in response, or to react to a noise I had... perceived, heard was not the right word. Over time my place grew smaller, but no less comfortable. I was content, happy.

Then one day there was a bright light and my warm dark place became cold and small, and I was forced to leave, into a bright light, where huge blurry things I couldn't make out smacked me and prodded me with various things, cut bits off me and wrapped me in strange-smelling things. I screamed vehemently in protest at this treatment, wanting nothing more than to return to my nice comfortable warm place, but nobody seemed to listen. I fell asleep quickly, having tired myself out.

The second day began much as the first had. I was cold, but snugly wrapped up in some soft fabric I began to feel comfortable and warm. My belly alerted me that I was hungry, but I had forgotten how to eat. I tried to call for help, but all that came from my mouth was a mangled scream, which distressed me, so I screamed more, louder, thrashing against the fabric which seemed to restrain me. All of a sudden, warm, soft hands scooped me up, and a low, calm voice I remembered faintly from somewhere told me things in a language I didn't understand, but I was comforted nevertheless. I was lifted into the air, such a rush of warmth and light assaulted my senses as I had never known. I stared wide-eyed into a huge blurred pink mass, which seemed to move as I looked upon it, and it dawned on me that it was from here that the voice had come. I reached out with my hands, but I couldn't reach, and my movement felt clumsy, awkward, like I had forgotten how to use my limbs. The voice returned, and I knew, somehow, that I had met my mother.

I awoke again, with no memory of falling asleep nor knowledge of how long it had been. The world around me was dark, yet here and there were faint pricks of light, swirling and wheeling around in the distance above me, like magical beings, dancing in the ether between worlds. I saw them, but not clearly, and they seemed perhaps to see me, but I could not be sure. I was restrained again, but in the darkness could not see what bound me in place. Lifting my head was impossible, like the muscles which were designed for the purpose had ceased to function. Indeed, the best I could do was to sort of loll about, from side to side, and I did this for a time, delighted with the manner in which this caused my blurry surroundings to whizz past me in a frenzy of wonder I could not yet pervade.

All at once, it ended. I grew weary, tired again, though it had been only moments since I had awoken. I was content, however, my belly was heavy and full of some strange fluid which seemed oddly... right. I didn't know what it was I had drunk, but I knew that I liked it, and that I would want some more of it later, when the time came.
 

Izack

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Ah yes, the birth story. More interesting by far than the coming-of-age story.
 
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