Hey this is largely inspired by the monster's narrative in Mary Shelley's Frankenstein. I'm rapidly developing the idea of having it as the beginning of a mildly dystopian fantasy world, replacing science with magic as the monster's catalyst. This passage is largely about the first few moment's of a new life, the juxtoposition of adult body and unused senses: so I really have no Idea what I'm doing......
“Simulacrum nosrenu pes reannes fritol raeveren”
A sensation of light. A sudden exposure to colours and shades and the ability to experience one’s surroundings; this is what first struck me. Shapes were indistinct, sounds and smells were nothing more than phantasms; ungraspable and unrecognised.
A sense of self, of physical presence, echoed moments later by a feeling of restraint and binding. Spirals of awareness worked their way up carved legs, down wrought arms. Instinctive movement warred with an impression of ancient disuse, only moments old.
In a single moment, I became a self. I saw through eyes and sensed through body. My vision was dominated by a figure, intoning loudly and quickly. His robes were of the colour of the stones on which I stood, his feet were clad in the shade of my bindings. The figure’s head was dominated by the colour of the illuminative source in the otherwise darkened room.
Those bindings; unnatural and yet ever-present, held before my struggling limbs. The sounds this man was making became louder, his gesticulations more aggressive and erratic. For an instant I felt cowed, before beginning my struggles anew. The movement was uncomfortable, but the desire for freedom, the very idea of which I could barely fathom, overrode it. This world of mine: these bindings, this man, his voice, and the dimly lit room, seemed both insignificant and all-consuming.
The material that tied me to the surface at my back gave way. The voice grew terrified, and its man flung himself to the floor and out of my view. All around me was clutter and dim light, but to the side of this prison lay a plane of darkness. I shambled toward it.
The control of my limbs was unsophisticated and untried, but as I traced my fingers along the cool, clear surface, I could already feel my faculties being brought into line. The man was behind me again, spitting words without meaning, but he drew no attention from me. My fingers were drawn into a fist and hurled against the unmarred plane, to cacophonous results.
The view without was ineffable in size and liberating in darkness. The dimly lit confines at my back were my first experience of being, and I found them not to my liking. There was something reassuring in this unknown darkness, this unspoken promise to my yearning senses.
I stepped from the window and fell into the night.
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