I am aware of the ability to possess flesh. To take up inhabitants of a body with enough force. One thing that has never occurred to me is the ability to do so in one’s soul. I think to myself, have I been molded to this thing? Am I still myself..
A being with static flesh and the hands of a man had desired a new home, of flesh and blood. A needful thing, pondered around the ethers searching for a vacant sign. And with a body that lay upon my childhood bed he found what he was looking for.
I remember in two short bursts of memories. It is standing in front of my mirror. A mouth full of rage and teeth in attack, Its hands reached out to my face. Before I am able to fight back it is too late. It lurched itself forward at me and his hands took away my vision, along with my consciousness and there is nothing else left until;
We are hovering over that childhood bed. With eyes like vacant holes I stared down at my body with such a daze. I recall nothing of what went on inside my head, only that I was a small bit of a bigger piece of myself. I peered blankly on that body that I had lived in all my life with eyes of indifference, there was no thought upon my brain. I was a being of mere observation, nothing else. I was a tool of the being next to me, and simultaneously, something in the way.
Spitefully he would make use of me. What that use was I might never know. The Blackness returned once again, engulfing my ability to remember. I come back to these lapses in memory questioning what happened but then again what would I do if I found out?
Despite all of this, I am still here. Standing with my soul firmly planted in my body and I do not know how.
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