Metamorphosis

Doubled over, it hurts to breath in. Pain ripples in convulsions of fire through my veins. I think I've lost the ability to move. Eyes shut so tight I'm almost convinced they've been sown that way as punishment of my transgressions.

Mouth opens wide, jaw aches with strain yet no sound comes out as my silent screams echo only within my head, unheard, unheeded.

Fingernails dig into the flesh of my sides as I bleed black and blue, followed by toxic colours of sorrow and pain.

Back feels like I carry hell itself upon my shoulders and spine, twisting with such furrosity that my legs give out.

Forehead falls to the floor, the only sense of coolness that soon seems to broil my bare skin.

Shirt in tatters, I've ripped it with new found claws I never knew I had.

Why won't it stop? Weight falls upon me, cruel chains of silver cut into my already abused, batterd body.

Tearing, the sound is so stark against the accusing silence, it's almost too much to bare. Gasping, I can't get enough air as the skin of my back pulls and rips.

Blood gushes down like waterfalls of red and black, roaring loading onto the floor around me. The smell ad pain makes me wretch, I'm sick to my stomach, but no food have I consumed in so long, I can't get rid of anything.

Hacking, coughing, gagging, my throat starts to bleed as well.

Yet the tearing on my back does not stop.

Why? Why?

One final tear, a resounding pop and something juts out from my skin and muscle.

Breathing hard, hardly able to remain crouched on my knees, the hurts start to recede. A dull throb with twinges of searing pain from time to time, I learn to breath once more.

Eyes open to find that the once pure black toxic blood has changed to pure crimson. It's a beautiful colour as it washes and paints the floor.

I try and move, but crippling pain from my back causes me to stop, only to be followed by a soft 'whoosh' of wind.

In my craddle of black, there had been no wind, no soft breeze, vaugely I wonder, where has that come from?

And then, from the edge of my spotted vision, I see them.

Wings of charcole have settled upon my back, looking as if they belong.

I notice as well, my claws have dissapeared, left with fine, smooth fingers.

Once more eyes close, yet this time it is fatigue, not pain the compells me so.

In a pool of blood, I rest, content with the world around me once more as the darkness fades and light slowly ebbs in. Like waves from the ocean, colours wash over my body, calming and lulling me into peaceful slumber with promises of tomorrow.

And so I smile, clutching my nerve wracked body as it seeps into oblivion.

My name is being called, and all I can do is continue to smile as I slip off to the land of unconciousness, knowing that everything will be alright.

For now, I am free.