Some would call it a birth, but it's not really a birth. Some would call it a death, but it's not really a death either. It's an evolution. A progression of life. A rebirth.
It starts with the shed. That's what we like to call it. It's the transformation from once living skin in to dead dry tissue. The shed. It's flaking off from the body. A small portion of skin no longer of use to the host. We are shedded. It's a beautiful moment. Breathtaking as the wind catches you and you feel yourself free fall into oblivion. It seems to last forever. Like you're suspended and caught in a moment where time can't touch you. The rush is like a hit of cocaine. Everything is blurred and spinning and out of control, but you're free, so free, finally free.
Exhale.
The moment passes and the thrill is gone. You're still suspended though. Free falling, quickly, slowly, one cannot tell. Just falling, or is it flying? Time holds no power in this moment. You're just being, pure being.
Helpless.
WHAM. Like a ton of bricks it hits you. Like that time on the hosts body where you collided with that wall. That moment you hazily remember from your previous life, when you apart of something, with others like you. That moment where that asshole Jack slammed you into the wall for no reason. A drunken rage with no direction and no justification. That douchebag who was shagging the mother and did nothing but inflict pain for those around her. Your poor young host. No protection.
That was the moment when you felt pain shoot beneath you and that sickly dark red liquid ooze out around you. So much pain. That's all you remember. That and the helplessness. Feeling your life slowly ebb out of you over the next coming hours and minutes and days.
Til now. You're not longer apart of that sick crusted reminder of the pain and hurt you and the host felt. The shed made you free. You should be elated. You were elated. Why aren't you now? Why has it worn off? Was it the lonliness? That had to be it. You were alone. Suspended in this eternal hell, all alone. How long had it been? You don't know. you can't tell. You're stuck. Where are you anyways?
360 degrees.
You can see everything but you can't decipher anything. What's up and down? It's all slowly revolving. You realize you're spinning. You can't stop it, you have no ability too. You're at the mercy of the wind. Stuck slowly revolving. Shit.
Panic.
You're helpless and you can't change your situation. Shit shit shit shit. You're alone. Shit. All you want to do is go back. Can you take it all back? Sick, crusted, dying. That's not so bad, at least you weren't alone. Companionship. That's what you want back. you can't have it though. Shit.
Please?
Just let me not be alone. Let me have someone, anyone, anything really. Why am I still hanging here? You're bargaining now. Trying to offer anything and everything to the Protein gods. You just don't want to be alone. Eternal solitude is frightening.
You've given up. You don't know how long you've been alone, suspended, and cursing the shed.
Light!
It hits, you find yourself in front of the window. Caught in the moonlight. Suspended. Spinning. You seem to sparkle in the velvet white light. It surrounds you and suddenly you're in a brilliant dance. You see them. Others like you spinning, floating, falling, all basked in the glorious light. Hundreds of your brothers and sisters twinkle and shine like you. Beautiful. Transcendent. The shed.
Gratitude.
And then you see him. Your host. Sam. Little Sam curled up in the bed beneath you. His wide eyes watching you and your kin dance in the moonlight. You see the crusted wound you flaked from. The giant gash on his little arm, slowly healing. A reminder of the pain and that bastard who hurt him.
You look at him and see his little lips moving. You strain to hear what he is saying. You can barely make it out. A prayer. He is praying. A soft little prayer for his family and his mother.
And then you realize the magnitude of your position. You struggle as you try to spin faster. The moonlight bouncing off your little body. The only thing you want is to be beautiful for this little boy. Your pleas to those around you seem to fall on deaf ears but suddenly you see the others shine brighter.
More and more join in. Suddenly the room is blazing with thousands of tiny stars sparkling to the host they once inhabited. You dance and play in the light hoping to provide some relief to the young Sam.
His eyes grow wide and a smile breaks across his chapped lips before he drifts to sleep.
Hope.
The moonlight ball seems to pass so quickly. You regain your composure and find yourself hovering over the carpet. Your moment is over as you land, nestled in the soft fibers. You feel no fear or anxiety. Only joy that for a little while you provided hope to one you once loved.
Hope. What every dust speck wants to be and can be. With a little magic.
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