First Chapter of my first series! Let me know what you think. Veering towards the strange and macabre. Let's get spooky~

I'm not entirely sure I've nailed my main character's thoughts yet. I'm currently writing Chapter 3 and I'm already more confident in who he is. I'll likely be updating this chapter in a few days once I'm sure.

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Chapter 1: Infant Men with Poison Dreams

Day 1

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I think I am awake. I feel sore, and weak, and it took me what felt like hours to open my eyes. I am not strong enough to move. All I can see is a white ceiling.

Strange thoughts of monsters and blood swirl in my head. I see one man in particular more than the others. He is a cruel looking man with a straight nose and big fever bright eyes. I fall in and out of consciousness.

I feel moist and too warm.

Day 2

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It’s been one day since I woke up, and I am strong enough to lift my neck and look around a bit. There are nine bald, naked men in the room with me, and they are all identical. No doors, no windows. Ten of the same bald man. I remember hair. I’m sure I had some before. Or he did maybe. I’m sure we had hair.

I see the fever bright dream man in the faces of my roommates. No, not the same man, but maybe siblings? The face is the same, but the eyes are different, less angry. They look as confused as I am. We sit, and we crawl around the room a bit, but our muscles are weak. I remember speaking, and sometimes words and the names of unfamiliar objects come to me; but I lack the motor functions to make the sounds I remember.

I don’t think anyone here could answer my questions if I could. A few of the others have tried, and it brings fresh tears to my eyes hearing their attempts at intelligent speech. This whole situation is wrong. I know that I have the body of an adult and memories of a life before this, but it isn’t mine. The dreams are terrible and though I recall them as if I was there, I know that I have never done these things.

Day 4

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Food is supplied through a chute along one wall that empties into a large communal bowl, and water is available in a trough running through a pipe along one wall. To one corner there is a thick metal grate that provides our only option for waste removal. Once a day a matching grate on the ceiling opens and showers water down to clean the waste away. The room is bright, but I see no obvious source of light. I was strong enough to approach the trough today. Looking at my reflection, I am identical to the other men here. Several of my fellow selfs have begun forming rudimentary words, and by their choices of subject I gather we share the same memories as well as faces. I am more sure that these memories are not my own. The more I recall, the more sickened I am. I don’t know who the man in my memories is, but I pity him. He was terribly lucid as he did things that cause the other nine of me to cry out as they sleep. As the memories continue to clear I am getting a sinking feeling. I'm worried I might understand our situation, and if I am right our existence may be even crueler than these memories. I weakly grip the hand of another me, and I try not to weep. If I am right I will need to be strong. I have only myself, and even that concept is worth less in here.

Day 5

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I suspect I am working through the memories faster than my brothers. Brothers is what I settled on; We are not the same man, though our faces and voices and even our memories say otherwise. Today one of us began humming. Two others joined in, a third grinned while others wept or continued to sleep. I see the differences. Each day we become more unique. I eat more food than I feel comfortable with. I'm still too weak, and I need to be strong. Just in case. Though standing is still beyond me, I sit against a wall and stretch each of my muscles in turn, while untangling the memories as they come to me.

Day 8

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I made a friend here. I call him Harper, because he was the first to start humming, and he seems to enjoy working with his voice. He approached me in my corner two days ago, tilting his head to one side questioningly at my exercises. I smiled, maybe for the first time, and attempted the universal “strongman” pose to explain my motivation. I haven’t made any attempts at vocalization, but he has progressed quickly and has begun asking simple questions. I shake my head yes or no, or make simple hand gestures. It's become his routine to sit next to me as I exercise and hum, stopping occasionally to ask questions. I feel awkward being unable to respond properly. I should work on speaking, if only to satisfy my friend.

At this point I believe all of us are aware of our shared memories, but he steers clear of them, asking instead why I do each movement, or my opinion on things the others say. I feel more like myself when we are together. He is obviously not the man we have memories of. Harper is kind and inquisitive, warm and funny. He reminds me that I am not that man either, and if I die here without seeing the sun or a face other than my own then that might be enough.

Day 10

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We are not alone in the world. Of course if my memories can be trusted then that was obvious, but now I have seen the proof with my own eyes. The thinnest of us, who I thought of as Stick, refused to eat entirely today. I believe he was trying to die. Harper tried to feed him, but he only looked him in the eyes and shook his head. After that Harper returned to me and sang for the first time. Really sang, though in sounds and tones more than words. A slow sad melody for a brother in need. His voice was deep and sonorous. I feel for Stick, and I would have helped him if I could, but I'm quiet and dark, and can't provide comfort like Harper.

Hours later, Stick still refused to eat. A high frequency sound began, starting at the edge of my hearing and building to a crescendo. It grew until it thundered through my mind. I found myself unable to move, and a red light filled the room. With a titanic effort I managed to turn my eyes to view the others. From the looks in their eyes they were in the same condition. A round, flesh colored ball roughly the size of my head appeared floating in the center of the room, without any obvious entry point, and moved towards Stick in his corner. Every fiber of my being, every ounce of muscle and scrap of will were bent to the task of warning my brother. The best I managed was a low moan, barely more audible than a breath and useless while this noise was everywhere. The ball approached Stick, and a flap opened to reveal an eye. An eye that looked just Like mine. A familiar voice issued from it. Our voice, but colder, like in our memories. A simple ultimatum. “Eat now or feel Pain”

Stick slowly turned to the sphere. It seems he was not bound like the rest of us, so that he would be able to make his choice. Turning from the sphere, he looked at each of us in turn, slowly, deliberately. Then he turned back to the sphere, and he gave a sad chuckle. It was the first time I heard a sound other than a cry from stick, and it had a hint of madness in it. Stick had made his decision. The ball pulsed pulsed like a flexed muscle, and Sticks body began convulsing. He did not scream. I suspect he was unable to. The sphere disappeared as quickly as it had arrived, and we were able to move once again. Most of us moved towards Stick as quickly as we were able, making sounds of alarm and fright. I reached him first, with Harper shortly behind. We tried for a few minutes to help him, massaging muscles and speaking softly. Next Harper tried to force feed him. He hoped the voice would be lenient if we followed it. The two of us tried to force some slop down his throat, but he just coughed and continued to convulse. I sat in my corner for hours while Harper pleaded with the voice, looking to the ceiling with tears in his eyes until his voice cracked. The others sobbed or looked blankly at the walls, or held each other. Stick finally stopped moving, and after a few hours Harper returned to our corner. He hasn’t sung since then. Stick was gone when we woke up, just another memory. But one that is wholly ours.

Day 11

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I believe I am strong enough to stand if I wanted to. I have decided to pretend to be weak as long as possible. At some point my growing muscles will be obvious, but for now it’s best if I don’t stand out. Stick stood out. There is a memory itching at the back of my head. Something important. Something about us, but it’s just out of reach.

Day 20

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Harper sticks close to me, and though he hasn’t started singing again, I occasionally catch him humming quietly to himself. Memories continue to straighten themselves out, and I think I’m beginning to understand our situation more. Over the last few days I’ve had a number of memories regarding something called dust. The memories are still incomplete, but I know it’s related to the memories of monsters and horrible mutilations I’ve seen. I think dust changes people. I’ve tried to still my mind and think of these memories, horrible as they may be. I think I need to know more about it. It’s related to us, somehow.

Two of our brothers got into a fight earlier. I didn’t understand why. Most of us still don’t choose to speak, so I may never know. Before I could do anything I heard a cracking noise and a yelp from the hairier of the two. The other immediately retreated and looked shocked and apologetic, but the damage was done. I could see a bit of white and a lot of red. A word came to mind. Radius. Other bones came to me as I tried to staunch the bleeding with my bare hands, while Harper did what he could to calm the man down.

I think the man from our memories knew a lot about our bodies. My suspicions grow darker by the day. When we had done what we could, we fell into a heavy sleep, though I don’t remember being tired. When we woke up, the loser of the fight was gone, and there were eight of us. The instigator of the fight looks down and reflects on his actions as Harper sings a wordless dirge. Harper is getting better at the sad songs, and it breaks my heart.

Day 22

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The fighter from before surprised me today by speaking. He approached me and Harper, presumably because of our efforts to save his brother. “We were both angry. It was supposed to be different.” Harper gave him a hug and I just nodded sadly. He sat with us throughout the day after that, in companionable silence as Harper hummed softly. I caught him imitating my exercise routine, flexing each muscle group in turn. I nod to him. I fear strength will be necessary soon.

Day 24

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My shared memories fairly fly now, and I know more about the various muscle groups and how to strengthen them. I’ve also learned more about dust. It’s almost intelligent, and can be made to change a body according to the will of the possessor. Changes are permanent, and as often as not detrimental. From what I can gather it exists throughout the environment and in every living creature. The more dust, the more powerful a person can become, if they dare to make changes that could cripple them for life. Having seen the horrible ways dust can change you, I suspect that an understanding of your own biology would be beneficial. I can’t help but think how much we all resemble the man in our memories and I huddle closer to my friends.

Day 26

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Each day I train, and the fighter, now called Stretch, quietly joins me. Harper joins sometimes as well, and hums military tunes. We’ve begun to talk a little more, and sheepishly shared our names for one another. Harper was delighted to hear his name, and Stretch seemed pleased to learn I hadn’t named him based on his earlier actions. I asked them what mine was. Harper grinned and tilted his head. “Doc?” Stretch just nodded and worked his shoulders.

Day 27

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Today I meditated on my memories of dust for most of the day. Stretch and Harper hummed and chatted, but I ignored them. I needed to know more. After several hours, I realized I could visualize the dust in my body. I spent several more hours just watching it in my mind, making sure I wasn’t going insane. There wasn’t a lot, but there was more what I expected given my memories. Granted I was hardly an expert, but there was enough to make a real change if I dared. I was initially excited, until I realized what it meant. My earlier suspicions crystallized and with a sickening feeling I knew what we were and what would become of us. I opened my eyes and gathered my two brothers close. It was time to voice my concerns and make what plans could be made.

We are clones, or something similar. The demented man from our memories is using us to explore his own living body for dust research. We were probably given his memories just to make the experiments that much closer to the real thing. Each of us has far too much dust for a slave or simple vivisection subject. The only conclusion is that he means to force various changes on us to determine what works and what doesn’t. He probably would have already done it, but the memories take time to settle and our bodies couldn’t take the strain until they stabilize.

Harper sat in the corner after I explained and looked hurt and dazed. He doesn’t want to believe it. I know that I’m right, and he has our intelligence in there somewhere. He just needs time. Stretch looked lost for only a second, then his eyes hardened and he nodded. He’s a strong one. Stronger than me. I’ve had suspicions almost since the beginning, but laying them bare has left me shaken.

“What do we need to do Doc?” More words than I’ve heard from Stretch since he first joined us.

I sat down and started to work my muscles. And with the knowledge that I wasn’t alone, I began to make plans.

Day 28

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After quite a few hours of contemplation, I organized my thoughts. We knew very little about our situation, or how much time we had left. If my assumptions so far were correct, we could be sure of a few things.

Each time one of us was removed, we were all asleep for the event. Since the lights are always on and we keep no set schedule, it’s likely that we were drugged, and that someone had to physically enter the room to affect the removal. This last part was a hunch, but if the body could simply disappear, why bother knocking us out?

We are being monitored. The ball was proof our captor knew of our actions and could intervene if we went off the rails.

We had enough dust to cause a real change in our bodies. It was both our only weapon and a terrifying chance. Stretch and Harper were making sense of memories much slower than me. Right now they knew far to little about the human body to attempt a change with any chance of success. I didn’t know if I could either, but eventually I would have to if we were to have any chance.

I asked Harper and Stretch to start looking for any cracks or changes in the wall, in case there really was an opening of some sort. I started meditating on anything regarding sleeping agents, gasses and glowing balls that can disable a man. I only hoped we had enough time to solve our puzzle.

Day 30

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For the last two days I meditated non-stop, learning a lot about medical gasses, the respiratory system and the brain. I simply didn’t know enough to block the gas. It could be one of hundreds of compounds with unique effects. It decided to think of a different way around the problem. How could I avoid breathing it in the first place? After a few more hours, I recalled something that might help. I didn’t tell my companions. It needed to be done, and it would only worry them. After going back and forth forth for several hours I decided to get down to it.

Before I had a chance, I fell asleep once more. When I awoke one of the others was gone. I hadn’t even given him a name. I struggled to remember him. He was in the group that cried a lot in their sleep, though not as bad as Stick. He seemed to be getting more active, and had shared short conversations with some of the others.I had caught him looking at our group a lot in the last few days and copying our exercises. Perhaps in time we would have been close. I had to hurry, before any more died.

I fell into myself, conceptualizing the dust inside me. I clarified the concept of my intended change in my mind, breaking it into steps and pushing it to the dust. A faint memory from a scholar by a beach, when our captor was much younger.

Myoglobin. It’s a protein that binds oxygen to the blood. In most humans it clumps together and is fairly inefficient. In prize divers, and most marine mammals, it’s found in higher quantity, and it carries more of an electrical charge. This repels other myoglobin molecules and stops them from clumping up. It covers blood cells more fully and increases oxygenation radically. If this worked the way I hope it would I’ll only need to breath once every hour or so. Doing my best to explain my idea to the dust, I felt foolish. But no sooner had I finished than I doubled over in pain and awoke from my trance. I didn’t know if it had worked, but my body was definitely changing. I gritted my teeth and held out as best as I could. If I writhed on the ground our creator would notice, and the plan would be over.

After an hour of pain, it subsided to a dull thud. Every vein in my body was hammering, but it wasn’t anything I couldn’t handle. Hoping against hope, I took a deep breath, and… nothing. I wasn’t breathing! Two minutes, Five minutes, Ten, no problem. I smiled and thought how strange it was to not hear the steady in and out of my own breath. After forty minutes I took a deep breath. Not as high as I had hoped, but unless our mad doctor was overly cautious it should be enough.

Looking inside I saw a third of the dust had gone dark. Two thirds left, enough for probably one more major change. I’d need it all if I wanted to have a chance once it was discovered I was awake. I was still terrified and locked in a cage, but for the first time since I was “born” I felt a little hope. Hope for myself, and for my brothers. It was a new feeling, and I liked it.

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Body mods and Mad scientists. Magic and Mystery! Next Chapter will be posted within a day of the previous weekdays until I run out of stock, then whenever completed.