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The Body

I am tired… no, it would be more appropriate to say that I am overcome with laziness.

I just woke up but still don’t want to do anything. However, I am better today because I didn’t even remember where I was yesterday.

Yesterday, I woke up feeling lively, thinking about turning on the computer and playing a video game or reading a novel. I hallucinated about being in a soft and comfortable bed, where, if I was hungry, I could get the food my mom left for me before she left for work just by going downstairs.

Unfortunately, that confusion didn’t last long enough, as my near-perfect memory quickly brought me to my senses. But, at least, now I remember it as a precious moment that fleetingly passed.


It’s okay. I’m not sorry. I’m not sad. It’s just a little nostalgia that will soon go away.

Sure, at some point, I was. I felt so bad when I discovered that the time and distance in that I could keep my sense active gradually shortened.

Do you know? Yes, I may have died in my past life. However, I don’t remember it, which is why feeling the clear approach of death seemed so strange.

At that time, I worried. I thought and thought for so long. I attempted to find a solution in my memories but to no avail.

Well, actually, such a result is no surprise. On the contrary, I would say that it is even repetitive, as I have acted in the same way on more than one occasion.

As a grown man, I don’t like to complain so much, so I don’t want to make excuses for my past actions, although, yes, I could do so by saying that it wasn’t my fault, that, in a state, life, and world like this, I couldn’t help it. I can think of that and much more, but, What for? Who would I tell?

I should say it to you, an entity created solely by my nerves, fears, and a touch of madness?

It is not worth it. I have only talked to myself so much because of a habit from my childhood.

I am not here to tell it, but you exist to hear it, so…

Back then, as a child, I was a believer. I believed in an all-seeing, all-knowing, all-powerful God. However, as I grew up and went to college, I learned about the curious details of the universe. Thanks to that new knowledge, my faith wavered until it faded completely.

I no longer believed in what my eyes could not see or what rigorous mathematical studies could not prove.

Yes, I became an atheist, but there was one of the habits related to it that I did not outgrow, one that remained engraved in my soul, which was talking to God.

Of course, as an adult, I no longer did so in the belief that it was an entity superior to everything and everyone who listened to me. When I was nervous, worried, or afraid, I did it to satisfy the need to speak about my problems with someone else, as I could not do it with another person. Pride prevented me from doing so.

It was enough for me to talk to myself or a fictitious entity.

That past led me to be what I am now. For some time now, I have been talking to the emptiness in the form of consolation. All to have someone to listen to me, and doing so was a good idea, as it has given me a lot of encouragement so far. However, it is no longer necessary.

I need no consolation now that I know my destiny is set in stone, so I can accept with relative calm that I am alone and that when I have a mental conversation with someone, there is no receiver to listen to me, let alone one who will respond.

Although… that doesn’t mean I’ll stop doing it. It’s relaxing, after all. Just consider it a self-criticism I made for the sake of wasting time, thus allowing my mind to clear a little more.

It is crucial to distract myself somehow because, as before, the moment when drowsiness hits hardest is right after waking up.


Stop it. The monologue this time is long enough.

My mind has now cleared, so it is time to see how young Tinny is doing.

‘T I N N Y’

Such is the name I came up with for the little boy next to me.


Yes… I know, not very original. However, either way, it doesn’t matter what I call it. After all, that is just a useless action I merely wanted to do, so I did it without further ado.


It is useless because the baby will never know of its existence… no, in fact, it won’t even know that I was by its side.

Anyway, it’s not worth thinking about something depressing because doing so is no more than a big waste of time. I don’t give a shit if that name is valuable or not. I created it to have a way to refer to the child. I did it only to please myself.

Tinny. Little Tinny, whether out of curiosity, affection, or habit, feeling the changes happening in your life is the only reason I strive to stay awake.

It is a pity that having a low amount of energy in me, I cannot extend myself very far unless I wish to fall under the weight of sleep in a moment, so it is only adequate for me to feel Tinny’s body and his close surroundings, such as the cradle or the hands of the women who feed him.

That thing about Tinny’s body sounded a bit strange… let’s pretend I didn’t think so.

However, the worst thing about all this is that, so far, there hasn’t even been a change in the brat. He is still as small and ugly as before.

Apparently, the degradation of my life has accelerated greatly, so it will probably be impossible for me to feel him walk for the first time…

Well, it’s actually a good thing that his condition stays that way. After all, as dull as it is for me, it indicates that he is safe.

‘Very well, my son, so how are you tod-… Where?’

Fuck… they’ve moved him.

No, it’s okay. I may just be exaggerating. It’s still too early to draw drastic conclusions because of something as small as that, as he may have been moved to clean his crib or something. I must explore his environment a bit more to be sure of what is going on.

‘Slow… slow. Don’t rush. Mustn’t waste energy… little by little…’

My sense which moves around it indicates to me that:

Downstairs… it’s padded as usual. That’s good, for it shows they are still concerned about Tinny’s health and comfort.

Upstairs… empty. Although maybe if I extend further, I might hit something, but, apparently, they haven’t locked it in a box or something.

To your right is a… wall? I’m not entirely sure, but the roughness of it seems to indicate that it is made of concrete or some similar material. So, perhaps he has been moved to another, a safer cot to prevent him from falling over because of his erratic baby movements, and, if that’s the case, to the left, there should be a wall too… or not…

‘One, two, three… several… no, all the babies are here’

Okay, try to be positive, but having all the kids lying on a stone tub doesn’t seem like a good sign. Not only that, but it is also very strange that, even though some of them are on top of each other, they are all sound asleep.

In my past life, I never had the opportunity to raise a baby, not that I would have liked to. However, I am sure that the site they are in is uncomfortable, so it would be natural for them to cry and squirm all over the place.

‘I can feel their little breasts rising and falling, so that means they’re still alive, so… fuck, I guess it’s time to pay the price for their care, huh’

I suspected it since I felt the condition of those women, but it seems that it will be impossible for these little ones to live ordinary lives.


Heh! I see that I still have a positive side to me. You’re right, maybe this time I’m wrong, perhaps my thoughts, my imagined future is not the right one, but this life has not been good to me, so thinking so positively… I don’t know, even if you tell me that, I’m tired of doing it.

Anyway, it doesn’t matter if I am wrong. On the contrary, if that is the case, then it would be for the best, but it is an irrefutable fact that nothing will change, no matter what thoughts I have. It’s not even that I need to do it to avoid worrying about my mental health or anything like that, for I really believe I can’t be any worse off than I am now.


Yes, I know, it’s so damn unfeeling of me to ignore in such a way the danger in which the little boy with whom I’ve shared so much is, but in this state, at this moment, I can’t care, even if I wanted to.

As time went by, it was not only my ability to stay awake that was waning, due to laziness and tiredness, my emotions were also fading.


Well, it’s not that these have disappeared, but it’s almost the same thing.

Having said that, it does not mean that I will completely ignore this stage, which may be the last in Tinny’s life. At the very least, even if I can’t do anything for him, I will stay by his side until the end.

Awake, of course. After all, whether I like it or not, I’m always hanging around him.

.  .  .  .  .

Over time the waiting became increasingly difficult. Even withdrawn, doing nothing but occasionally sensing Tinny’s condition, fatigue hit me hard.

‘I want to sleep… so tired… hurry up for the hell of it, do quickly what you have to do… .no, forget it, better not do anything… yes, that nothing bad happens is the best…’

Well, fuck… I was so stupid, or rather. I was so sleepy that I didn’t realize what I thought was a huge red flag, so it’s no surprise that shortly after I did, just as I was about to say goodbye to Tinny, I felt him being lifted into the air.

What I had hoped and, at the same time, wished would never happen finally occurred, but by then, I could no longer think coherently. I was too tired and confused.

However, moved by a last vestige of thought, or perhaps by instinct, I extended my spiritual sense toward the guy lifting Tinny.

I didn’t get far, it was impossible to scan him entirely, but with the limited energy I managed to muster, I felt his hands.


That was the last thing I thought before falling into a deep sleep.

Live in an imperfect world in search of perfection

Live in an imperfect world in search of perfection

Status: Ongoing Type: Author: Native Language: English
We all have something we wish for. Innocent dreams or dark desires, many of which are best kept that way. After all, the dream of all life obtained in the wrong way, from one moment to the next, can turn into unbearable torture. Kyle is an ordinary guy who, for years, wanted to live in a fantasy. He longed to experience those mythical stories that books told him. He dreamed of a new life where he would magically not repeat his mistakes. Where the money he would rain down from heaven. Where he could get plenty of women. Where his deeds would be sung as mythical legends by bards in bars and street corners. Petetic and silly. His dream was madness beyond this world. But unexpectedly, he got what he asked for, but not what he wanted. He was born with nothing; he lost everything. Months full of fear, anger, and despair, to then enter a strange world. Inside an abnormal body accompanied by voracious monsters that would tear him to pieces at the slightest carelessness.


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not work with dark mode