WRITING OBSTACLE
Submitted by Aster
Write from the perspective of a character that has been experimented on their entire life.
Consider how they view themselves, and how they feel about the world, after the extensive modification of their body.
Reset And Recreation
Am I perfect yet?
Am I fully finished?
I feel—
Nothing, really
No emotions plague me
I just want it to stop
I just want my creator
To finally
See me as something
Worthy Of their love
I’ve read about love And families and children Are they the parent? Taking care of me With the pricking And prodding of my skin The constant tear and stitches of limbs Eye modifications Lip, ears Are they the parent, Taking care of their small child?
I don’t think so I don’t even know why I’m here Why my creator chose To create something Such as me
A doll I’ve seen pictures, read books I looked exactly like those things Porcelain steel Eyes that were more blank Than clear paper Painted lips on my robotic face
But I have a heart Not like the other mechanical ones I see in my creators other creations My heart is beating, A soft, squishy muscle inside my chest Is that why my creator chose to keep me still? Because I am somewhat like them? Because I have the same muscle in my chest?
I don’t know
I don’t know why they cry at night Holding me tight in their bed I don’t understand why they whisper “Darling” into my ears with such fever I don’t understand why I look so
Much
Like the woman in their old, blurry photos
What am I?
Why am I still here?
Why do I have a heart, but nothing else
Like them?
Like my creator
Like the people, characters in
My books, my shows?
What AM I?!
My heart beats rapidly
And my creator jumps as they check on my monitor
“Holly! Holly, darling, calm down! What’s wrong?” They come up to me where I sit at our kitchen table, fork in hand, food untouched, taking my metallic hands into their own fleshy, warm ones. “What’s one? Do I need to change something else?”
I shake my head, heart pounding faster. Hot beads of water well up in my eyes. “What am I! I’m not normal, am I? WHAT AM I????”
They shake their head and kiss the tears on my cheek. The warmth of their lips calm me for a single moment, and I take my hands from theirs to wipe my face.
“Oh dear,” they sigh, “it seems your memory core is acting up again, Holly.” They peer into my eyes; my eyes zoom into their face unconsciously to see more.
“You’re my wife, dear, even in death and recreation—you are my wife.”
(Three hours of sleep did me well! I feel _so _much better. Thank you for reading and have a great day! 😊)
