Probably a Prologue or an Epilogue of a novel... Or a short story
Clack , clack, clack
His keyboard keeps typing the words.
He is unaware of what he is writing, he feels awake, yet his fingers seem to move on their own accord.
The computer keeps spewing words.
Words
Words
Words
He doesn’t understand what they mean.
His eyes kept following the words.
Words
Words
Words
A hand suddenly shoots out of the pages.
The words were not without meaning, his brains just cannot process what they were. Some ancient language perhaps. Or an unknown incantation. Whatever it is, something is happening. And it is not something good. Not for him at least.
He tries to move his fingers. Stop the clacking. He can’t. He couldn’t.
Help!
His mind screams, but no sound comes out of his mouth.
The hand is turning into an arm. Then an elbow. Someone, something is coming out of the words.
Words
Words
Words
He tries to wiggle his typing fingers again. No response. It’s as if they weren’t his. Whose is it?
I’m here, am I? He asks. No one really. There’s nobody to ask, nobody who can help him.
His body is stuck on the chair, his fingers moving on their own, answering to someone else’s bidding. Whose?
He screams again. Still no sound.
A shoulder is coming out of the paper. The hand now reaches out as if to push itself out of the pages.
His fingers stop typing.
Its work is done. The incantation is finished, a form has been made into being. A half of a head emerges from the words.
He tries to see its face, trying to see if it is something knowable.
His body is numb. No amount of willpower can budge it.
Now he can see its face, he shouldn’t have tried to. He should have just closed his eyes. It’s too late, he couldn’t anyway.
Whatever compelled him to write those words, also bound his whole body to someone else’s will.
He heard a ding somewhere in the back of his head, and then a flash of blinding light. And then nothing.
The light slowly turned to darkness. Like a darkened vignette it spread into the center of his awareness of himself. He is no longer he. He feels himself detaching. A tether, his tether is severed.
And then, there’s nothing.
