"This piece shares the same sentence structure, word count, and character count as FFJ - 1 - "Dante" and is a continuation of that story. This was an experiment in writing a new story using the exact same structure as another. Best read side-by-side to get the full picture"
Ignition to the veins. Inhale. Heat thaws the ice in the limp marionette’s limbs, water droplets beading off of artificial skin—a crystalline cadaver leaning out from its slim porcelain coffin of moil. Dark stars blot, noxious flashes of pain, death, and revenge birthed in the brine. The tub slick beneath my hands, sluice laps the edge, head fighting to remain upright. Physicality, blooming sensations unite consciousness and vessel, surging into new being, with the ache of life. Pushing over the edge, a newborn with an ancient mind, failing in my stride, slipping down. My rickety pulse finds purchase, drumming a new discordant tune, music to my fresh ears.
I wretch, teetering to the seat of a chair. Lamps come to life with a flick of the wrist, systems returning online from slumber. A dozen screens flicker and glow as the intoxicating thrum of power breathes fresh life into the dormant systems. I squint my eyes, painfully watering, more false discomfort meant to normalize.
Notifications flock in, unceasing media chatter. Joined voices of the uncaring and the ones who pretend to try. Satisfied grin of a job well done, morphs to laughs and tears. Tension that eases from prior flesh—my shaking chest and unsteady hands, years of pain. I wail, no reticence, and let the relief flood out, shed from this new body. Clarity gathers, focusing anew in my victory.
Something stirs beyond, beckoning me to continue along the path that I have only just begun. Dante is not alone, death bed’s call the names of those who prey on us.
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