Wait.....a tingle? Is that what it's called?
Suddenly I'm falling. No, not falling, rising! I'm flying upwards so fast like I've been shot from a cannon!
The air rushes by my face.....AIR! I haven't felt air in so long! The sheer of it as it drags invisibly across my skin is overwhelming. I feel the tingle....no, tear....flick away from my face in the wind.
I can't yet see, but I can feel and hear. I hear the wind rushing around me...the rush and hush of infinite molecules and gasses.
But it's not just material. The whisper of shadowed hands desperately grasping at me as I pass by, the transient wail of discorporate beings existing in the howling winds scrape me but fall away as I pass by toward the surface.
There's a tremendous feeling of vaccum, like this is what propels me and draws my insides out. The pain is tremend...PAIN! I haven't felt that in......
The pressure becomes a sound, a din, a crash, a roar, a cacophany, till the sound becomes sensation, becomes being, becomes.....
XX POP! XX
Smell...it's acrid but earthy...like a smothered campfire.
Now sound...it's a quiet humm...a droning chirp...a living thrumb I remember, like cicadas in the Florida Summer.
Touch...rough but malleable...grains of dirt...not fresh and fertile but the cold naked soil of a parched earth.
My Sight...nothing but haze...all I can see is a glowing blue tinge...it takes me far too long to realize it's moonlight.
My hand slides over something smooth. My natural senses kick in...not senses...but...knowing. It's rough and worn metal. Iron, in fact. But there's a silvered silicon sub....a mirror!
I grasp it desperately and bring it toward what should be my face. I stare at the haze for what seems like forever till it begins to clear.
"Well, welcome back miss Ancienne. Yuh glasses ah next to the mirra," says a heavily New York accented voice. I've always hated it when people mispronounce my last name.
I feel my weight shift...bones, muscles, and tendon react to my whim. I don't want to admit it, but it's so niiiiiice to have a body again.
I slip my fingers around the delicate frames, letting the grains of soil shift around my flesh and the metal. I lift them, shaking the grit off them with a snap as I flick them once to open before slipping them over my ears to look back in the mirror.
The holographic skulls still look great, even in moonlight..
