Hi there! This picture is me writing my English essay on my typewriter! I think I’m getting the hang of it. Also please enjoy this little bit of writing I’ve created this evening, partly inspired by the fact that my essay is on a passage from Frankenstein.
It shivers. Quivers. A movement travels through its body, a trembling, shaking shudder of a movement throughout its arms, torso, neck and legs, down to its little toes. Its eyelids start to open, revealing the darkness beneath.
You stumble backwards in horror, reaching behind you for the edge of the table to steady your sagging weight as the crushing realisation of what has happened presses down on you.
It’s alive.
Alive.
Dear lord, how, how could this have happened? This was not the plan, not at all, but now the thing is alive, awake, opening its eyes and lifting its hands, one by one, working out the movement of its limbs, sitting up on the counter and looking straight
At
You.
Its black, pupil-less sockets stare at you with the intensity of a void. You swallow hard. Somehow you know that, even without proper eyes, it can see you, even see right through you to your very heart and soul. Its gaze seems to penetrate your being and you gasp for breath, clutching the edge of the table so hard that your knuckles turn white.
It wasn’t supposed to happen this way. You weren’t supposed to summon it yet, not until you were ready, but here it is inhabiting the body you duly prepared for it, and you’re standing with your back to the table with none of the conventional protections to hand, and on the counter is an Ancient Demon, a denizen of hell, a creature of the deep.
And you?
A mere human, a fly in its path, summoner of a power far, far outside of your control. And what do you do?
You throw a book at it.
It bounces off, falling to the floor with a deadening thump. It turns its head to look, but too soon its black orbs are turned back to you. You tremble, waiting for it to kill you.
It laughs, a deep, gurgling sound that hurts your ears and makes your head throb.
I appreciate your spirit, it growls.
Your breath is coming faster, you don’t know what to think.
But I will kill you all the same.
You scream. You try to run.
You fail.
It moves with inhuman speed, but then again, it is not human. Its arms seize you, lifting you from the ground. The last thing you know, is that you’ve let this thing loose upon the world.
And that, at least, makes you glad.
You know nothing more.
A Teacup Full of Stories 