The subject of this calendar week ’s Concept Art Writing Prompt has a rather unusual body type : bony . Is she the result of a aesculapian experiment gone awry ? Some sort of ghostly creature ? An especially dedicated cosplayer ? publish your own story about this strange lady .
Here ’s my story :
I feel pallid .
Dr. Rice state that it ’s all in my head , and then kind of laughs in a way I do n’t care . I ask him what could be improper with me and he tells me that I ’m in miraculously good condition , all things considered . He hands me my tea leaf and run his fingers through my hair . His hands feel like snakes slithering across my scalp .
The tea helps me forget that my body is confine up by something other than muscles , helps me shut out out the not - quite - inaudible hum of the nanites spread across my naked frame . Now I spend just the first few minutes of my day in total repugnance , until the tea kicks in and I can discontinue strumming my bony fingers across my costa cage . It create awful music .
I used to scour the skill sites , run for news on the progress of regeneration , look for signs that flesh will someday bloom over my bones again . Dr. Rice tells me that the tangible feeler do n’t make the news program , but I do n’t know whether to believe him . I ’m his trophy , after all , a living head atop bone , but if I pall , wo n’t his celebrity disappearance ? Sometimes I consider dive out the windowpane just to spite him .
“ I postulate fresh line , ” I tell Dr. Rice . “ I want to sit in a cafe and sip coffee and watch the world go by . ”
He sweep the back of his hired man across my elbow bone . I think I ’d shiver if I still had the nervousness . “ We do n’t know how the nanites will harbor up outside . I ’ll get you coffee . Anything you need . crescent roll ? Macarons ? ”
I give him my guild , for the farthest coffee bar I can think of , and as before long as he pass on , I pull out the bins of netting I ’ve been steal from the nursemaid ’s station . I hurriedly envelop my fingers and foot before slipping on socks , shoes , glove , and my pelage . I once blockade looking for regeneration advances online , I ’d bulge out count for instructions on how to make a bed tack elude out the window .
I dash across the infirmary lawn , not out of fear , but exhilaration . peradventure the nanites will fall apart down . Maybe Dr. Rice was say the truth and re-formation was well on its way . But body or no body , if I was going to conk , at least I was going to live first .
Fiction
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