(Well, this isn't exactly a story or a poem, but it's something I've been working on recently. I had an idea [Oh, the horror!] for a novel and I've been writing a bunch with the characters to try and figure it all out. It may not look like it, but I am writing just about every day. So I thought why shouldn't I put up one of my little scenes that I wrote? I feel the concept of my idea has a lot of potential. It'll be a long while for this to come out, but I might as well give it a starting point now)
He felt something stir within him. All was dark; there was no such thing as existence. But in a moment it was like a kink in his neck had been forced out, and everything began to come to life. Blindness turned into sight that was blurred at first. Around him was a sort of workshop, tools laid out on the rusted counter, a wrench or two littered on the ground. He saw other such devices and gizmos lurking about, stationary in their spots as though they were soldiers. 672Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡbdd3u7Rpc9
His vision centered to what was directly in front of him, and then he saw...something. It was meaty, quite dirty, and reeked of a horrible stench. It looked to him with big balls of crimson that jutted out of its skull; in the reflection he saw something entirely different. Glowing, grassy balls that were brighter than anything else in the room stared back at him. He gazed upon them for the longest time, and after a series of squinting, blinking, and even a wink he discovered that they were his. 672Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡhmyLQ6onuw
When a cool, metal prod came far too close for comfort, he recoiled. The meaty thing before him made a giddy noise that worried him a tad. He flexed the prods, and was surprised that he had such precise control. Each prod could move independently, or all together if he so chose. The prods were all connected to a firmer metal rod, and all that to a sturdy, block shaped body with messy black paint scribbled on in a symbol he didn't recognize. Below the body was another set of metal rods, though these ones connected to slightly different prods. He kept fiddling with his body, constantly astounded by what he was. 672Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡXouceMo3of
He didn't know how long it had been, but the stench of the meat sack in front of him made him strikingly aware of the creature. It grasped its crimson orbs with dirty, tanned prods that were covered in unnecessary flesh, and before him took off its own eyes! His shock must have been expressed to it somehow, for it made the same, high-pitched noise as earlier, the new blinking, wet, emerald orbs analyzing him.672Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡv16JzeqW7z
"It's alright," The sound came to him, soft and soothing like a cozy blanket. "Don't be afraid." He felt his body relax, somehow. How could sound do that?672Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡObGMCT7bDe
"My name - that's what we use to call things - is Ambrose. I helped make you." He reached out, placing his left limb on its chest. There was a throbbing inside.672Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡj9K5QDieQm
"Ambrose," he copied the way its mouth moved, manipulating his own quite slowly. It showed its teeth, white bone exposed to the stifling air.672Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡQABKAkX9Fy
"Your memory bank should be recording me right now, so, um...I'm fifteen years old. I'm a girl - so she, her kind of deal - a-and you are my one and only creation." He felt her body grow tense. "You're a secret." She was quiet. He cocked his head to the side. She exhaled sharply, shaking her head. "I wouldn't expect you to understand. It's, um, complicated." He felt something stir within.672Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ5AniVRYtB4
"Can I help?" He willed his body to move, and felt a thrill when he scooted forward. Ambrose looked at him, mouth opening and closing several times. He frowned. "Did I do something wrong?"672Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ1IRXehPwR0
"N-No!" She snapped back to reality. "No. Ev-Everybody else told me to forget making you - they said you were a waste of time. Useless. B-But you're not! I...I never gave up on you. If anything, for her..." Clear fluid ran down her cheeks, her face scrunched up. He didn't know what compelled him, but he ignored his ignorance and embraced her.672Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡXSEWFDHTeI
"I can help," he said. Ambrose made a small sound of acknowledgement and rested her head, full of a rattled, ivory nest, on his metallic frame. It was quiet, and he found himself focusing on the creature Ambrose. What she was (girl), how she related to him (creator), and what she must mean for him (life). Life. Life was made by a thudding, a pounding that existed inside Ambrose. The only way he knew was because he heard hers, felt it in her skin. This was all he knew. He didn't even know himself.672Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡrqIRE1BDII
"Ambrose," he spoke her name, what she was called. She looked at him curiously. "Can I be Ambrose?" She made the giddy noise again, though it sounded far too dry.672Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ150vOpBevJ
"No, only I'm Ambrose. But I guess you need a name of your own, huh? How about...Clank."672Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ5WmeP4Ayfu
"I am Clank?"672Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡH7tkFl5boX
"If you want to be."672Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡu89REmxau5
"I like Clank."672Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ0lzdYHMTnP
"So do I."
(And...that's it. This is still in development, so any sort of feedback will be well-appreciated. And hey, you. Thanks for giving this little thing a chance.)672Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡTPZetYHCg7
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