Womb's Purgatory

[Melchi0r]

This is a sci-fi story I'm writing.
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He began to unconsciously wiggle his toes as a surge of life pulsed through his muscles. His legs twitched in a small, spastic scissor-kick. Then, his fingers, up to his elbows. His head rolled around gently. He tried to open his eyes but he couldn’t. All he could do was feel and hear- something also clogged his nose and mouth. A deep gush, like a heartbeat, swam around him, and all he felt was warm, wet resistance to his movements.

No words ran through his head to go with these odd feelings. He could have been a fetus in a womb for all he knew at that moment. The maternal tranquility was shattered soon by a metallic whirring, and a feeling of cold steel on his back and chest, then the feeling of being lifted. His head hit air, and he couldn’t breathe it in- but he was still breathing, somehow. The air felt chilly and mean. He didn’t know what was happening on the outside, but all he felt was the longing to be placed back in the womb.

A stirring in his chest brought his alertness to its highest peak. Something was slithering inside him, and rising up. He felt it move through his windpipe- suddenly he felt like he was choking. It wiggled past his uvula, and he felt a small burst of bile regurgitate into the back of his mouth, but it fell back down his esophagus.

Now he was dangling in the air, being held only by the cold metal claw. It spun him around slowly in a half circle and then began to lower. The soles of his feet touched a smooth but crispy material, like a silky leaf. Other strange appendages began to take hold of him- still chilly, but these were fleshy and softer. He felt somewhat slimy as they lowered him down, moving up his body as they lay him in a sitting position.

The metal claw released him and whirred up into the heavens. He felt himself moving… was this birth or death? This was too much for his release into life, or afterlife, or purgatory… he was barely comprehensive but still held onto his reasoning of life and death. He felt a sleepy sensation take him… maybe this was death.

He’d have to let him enfold him to find out. Letting it take him, he slipped away…

[Sage]

Pretty good so far, nice break from all the typical 'my life sucks' shit we get around here. Kind of reminds me of that scene in The Matrix where Neo wakes up in the 'real' world.

[Melchi0r]

A sharp pinch on the bottom of his wrist snapped him awake, his eyes opening at last. His pupils shrank instantly, the brightness stinging his retinas like acid. He squeezed his eyes shut, blocking out all the light. Another pinch, and a male voice grunted, “Got the blood sample.�

Blood sample? What did that mean? None of the voices made sense to him at the time. It was all gibberish. He wanted them to go away; he was getting a headache.

A rubbery hand lifted up his eyelid, to his displeasure, and shined a small light right into his pupil. He wanted to blink away the discomfort, but the fingers of this strange woman with a type of scarf over her mouth wouldn’t let him. Tears collected in his eyes, and she finally let go. Firmly he kept his eyes shut.

“Eyes are normal. Better than normal, actually,� a female voice said. What were they talking about?

“That’s enough for now,� an older, masculine voice interjected. “Shower him off and get him dressed.� The patient opened his eyes and looked at himself. He was naked, covered in grimy, clear liquid. He didn’t care, though. Gymnophobia, nor anything else, mattered to him now.

He was moving again. It felt like floating. Strangely, it was blissful and he was almost asleep in a minute until they stopped and rubbery hands groped at his arms and legs, forcing him to stand. His knees nearly bucked- how long ago were they last used? Two hands- one on each arm- pulled him gently along, and he shakily followed their lead. The floor was cold and wet here. He didn’t know what anything looked like because his eyes still hadn’t adjusted, veiled by his eyelids.

The hands stopped pulling him, and he groggily kept his balance. Something hissed above him and it started to rain…

He jumped. The water was freezing, but as he was held under the shower the water grew to a lukewarm temperature. The rain died out, and he began to hug himself, shivering. A soft, fluffy something began to work its way around his body- his hair, down to his back and chest. It slid all around him, and he was dry.

Bravely he opened his left eye, letting in a small slit of light. It was still bright, and he saw a man totally covered in white, even on his hands and across the bottom half of his face. He was struggling with an orange sheet, managing to open up a hole into it. Without warning, he pushed it over the patient’s head.

The boy struggled, trying to lift it off, but the hands fought him and guided his arms through more holes. The figures clad in white pulled the orange sheet down, and it seemed to envelope him. He stole a glance at himself- it was a very baggy gown. The cloth was papery, each movement making more wrinkles.

Two hands on his shoulder pushed him into a sitting position. This seat was softer, but the armrests were cold metal. He kept his hands on his lap as he once more seemed to float around. Maybe this was heaven. Everything was white. Perhaps he was floating on clouds, being cared for by angels.

The floating slowly stopped and he heard a creak. He opened his eyes to see a large black door swing open. He froze. This couldn’t be heaven. In heaven, they wouldn’t lock him up. He expected to be suddenly thrown into flames.

He was thrown, but not into flames- onto a hard, dark floor. He curled up as the door swung shut again- and locked. He opened his eyes, looking up. The darkness of this room didn’t hurt his eyes, but they were still heavy from fatigue.

Only a beam of white from the door’s window lit up the room. There was a shallow bowl attached to the wall he guessed was a toilet…

Everything was coming back to him. This wasn’t anywhere ethereal. It was some sort of prison. He was alive. He just didn’t know who he was, or where he was, or why any of this was happening.

He curled his legs into his chest and began to rock. A black smear on his left forearm caught his eye. He put his arm into the light. It wasn’t a smear- it was a line of symbols. It read: 37266MDP0.

Surely that wasn’t his name. He didn’t even know how to say it. His fingers stroked the tattoo, like it would give him answers. Then the three penultimate symbols began to make sense to him. MDP. Was that an abbreviation?

M… that was his name. Of course there was more. D and P were also part of his name. Now he knew there was something before he ended up here, in this cell, in this prison. In that womb.

Micah.

Pomeroy.

…Daniel?

That was his name! Micah Daniel Pomeroy. He lived in an orphanage his whole life, until…

He froze. Until the day six other children and him were loaded into a black van and drugged. That was his last memory.

Micah was only thirteen years old when that took place, in the year 2099. Seeing himself now, he knew he had to be older. At least two years older.

What was going on!?

[Serenity]

I have to be honest, I'm not a big fan of sci-fi, so I had to read through this a few times to really get into it. My preferences aside, it is written well. I have two pieces of constructive criticism:

The boy struggled, trying to lift it off, but the hands fought him and guided his arms through more holes.

Since you just used 'struggle' a couple sentences prior, it sounds rather repetitive here.

He didn’t even know how to say it. His fingers stroked the tattoo, like it would give him answers.

Because of the style of writing, 'like' is too casual to really be correct. I suggest replacing it with 'as if,' it just fits better.

Alright, there's my 2 cents. Other than that, it's good and I've enjoyed reading so far.

[Mannequin]

You're really talented....

[what the?]

You're really talented....

It's good isn't it :D