Diana, of Myths of the Mirror has a new feature on her blog called, “Speculative Fiction Writing Prompt.” Please visit the link above to find out more about the challenge, then join in the great fun!
Only yesterday he was himself, quite human, a regular guy, who had everything he needed. Today, things had changed. He awoke to a deafening noise, the sounds of gears turning, and electric pulses, the likes of which created a spark and flame about him. He laid as still as could be, afraid to make the slightest move. It was then he realized the noise was coming from him. He sat up, barely able to straighten himself. Something was blocking his movements, and it was something unnatural, this much he knew.
Looking at his arm, he saw what he thought were robotics, in a gleaming gold, running down to his wrist. In between, wires of some sort, held the pieces together. Parts of his arm were missing, but he felt no pain.
“I must be dreaming”, he thought to himself.
Trying not to move too quickly, he adjusted his head to gaze at his torso. Metal plates made their way down one side of him. His entire right side was now gone, pieces of his flesh no longer appeared where they should. Instead, he had become a robot, a monster in his own eyes. His eyes. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know. He could feel a heaviness on his face and could only conclude part of his face had also been changed. Damaged. He was no longer human. He was a freak. A mechanical freak. But why?
“Wake up, stupid!” He tried to will himself out of this nightmare.
But it wasn’t a nightmare. It was all real. During the night, the invaders had found him and taken him over. He had only heard of them through stories told by the old ones. Usually, he’d just slough it off as nonsense, but now he realized he should have listened more carefully. The question was what could he do about this predicament?
The electricity he was emitting was causing the room to flame. Smoke and fire surrounded him, as if he was being welded together….and he was. He couldn’t see them, but he knew they were there. His only saving grace was he couldn’t feel anything.
And he wondered, had he always been this way…
©2019 Dorinda Duclos All Rights Reserved
Pixabay image by Brigitte Werner
Should this warm your soul, please share.
Night Owl Poetry - Dorinda Duclos 