#wed 6

[thessidy]

I don’t know what they gave us, but our bodies are changing. My arms are convulsing and twisting and lengthening, my hands with longer fingers to better grasp and reach. My skin pales sickly silk, my eyes grey, in agony I reach and grasp and find my hair falling in droves from my scalp—

but when I try to scream, I find my mouth covered. I panic, try to breathe, my nose is merely two holes flat against my face. I am their perfect servant, now: silent, lanky, easy to groom and preen, my long arms suited for reaching and grabbing what my masters cannot. I do their bidding with tearful eyes, my only method of expression, my greyed eyes that will never again see our bodies whole.