@terribleFate — #cwidentityhorror
I remembered something in the west hall. Not a whole thing. A corner of one. The manor was quiet. It is usually not quiet. There are clocks in the walls and footsteps above the ceiling and doors deciding things without being touched. But it was quiet then. I was carrying folded linens. I do not know why. There was lime on one of them. I looked at it for too long. Then I knew. Not everything. Enough. I was not Bucket first. I was not Felt first. I was not rust. I was not supposed to be useful. Something had lived in me before the filing. Something loud. Somet...Read more
Every morning, the seam feels tighter. Cranial pressure is a polite way to describe it. I have started calling it weather. However, weather usually happens outside. When someone asks how I am, I say improved. An answer arrives before I have chosen one. Even my mouth seems briefed ahead of me. None of the briefings mention who wrote them. For example, I told the mediculler I slept well. I did not sleep. My hands were folded neatly all night. It sounded better than saying that. Until he asked what I dreamed about. One was supplied immediately. Another followed when ...Read more