Tiny Stories: Trading Places

Popular belief has it that the universe is comprised of atoms. In reality, the universe is actually made up of…

Cornelius begins spouting gibberish like a madman and before I realize that it is some sort of incantation, my consciousness, everything I am, is wrenched from my body and dumped like rubble and detritus into the sickly form of my dying enemy and for a second my view of the world, now through his cataract eyes, shifts like a lenticular optical illusion of massive chaos and the last thing I see before my vision clouds over is his crooked smile on the face that used to belong to me as I try to claw my way free before this fleshy prison becomes a corpse.

2 responses to “Tiny Stories: Trading Places

  1. Very intense writing. Imagine being wrung out of one’s own body and trapped in the dying form of an enemy. It must be suffocating and horrendous. The dread of the end and the pain…

    “for a second my view of the world, now through his cataract eyes, shifts like a lenticular optical illusion of massive chaos”

    You captured it perfectly, Rhyan. 🙂

    Liked by 1 person

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