//------------------------------//
// After 
// Story: Stitches 
// by Hopefullygoodgrammar 
//------------------------------//




I am afraid.


It’s been a while since I took pen to paper, but I’ve been caught in a riptide of exhaustion and depression as of late. I think that it has something to do with that rainbow-maned pegasus whose strange familiarity has been haunting the darkest parts of my mind. 


Not only that, but I had a dream that was different from the others and it was different because it wasn’t actually a dream, it was a memory.


A memory of my rebirth.


After Melkonis had done his work and I was brought back I had been unable to remember much of my re-awakening.


But now I can… and it scares me.


I remember a flash of light that was so all-encompassing in its brightness that I felt like had fallen into a sea of bright blue light.


A strange feeling washed over me, I think it was the first true physical feeling that I had felt since my death.


And, if there is a type of agony more potent and horrific than being reborn,  then I have yet to experience it.


The pain probably only took me a second to react to in real time, but to my newly revitalized brain it seemed like an eternity of crackling, humming agony.


And so I spent my first few hours screaming, howling and wailing like a banshee. I wanted to die, the pain was my whole world and I couldn’t even form a single thought. It was like I was drowning, being stretched on a rack, burned in a brazen bull and flayed alive all at once.


Eventually the agony subsided enough for me to start thinking, but my thoughts were only half-formed.


Eventually the thoughts became clearer and I was able to question my surroundings and who I was. I examined my surroundings and found that I was laid out on a steel slab at the center of a large room that was filled from top to bottom with the tools of a necromancer.


Grimoires, Necronomicons, lists of the beasts of Tartarus and their names, spellbooks, astrology charts, world maps, wands, needles, thread, a large freezer, casting bones, ritualistic daggers, a heart monitor and several types of cutting implements; it was like a meeting of the past and present.


I tried to get up to examine my surroundings, but my limbs left heavy and stiff. It took a while for me to get my limbs to obey my mind, and each joint felt swollen and raw, though I later realized that that was because my replacement parts were adjusting to my physiology. 


After I got used to walking again I proceeded to investigate the room, looking at the knives, playing with the jars of pickled punks and looking at the pictures in the books.


I was in awe of my new surroundings, now looking at them through fresh eyes. But my happiness withered away when I realized that I could not remember anything beyond my rebirth.


I was overcome by this new, unpleasant emotion which made my heart ache and my guts burn, and I sat down and wailed for what felt like an hour, hoping that the water from my eyes would carry my unhappiness away.


Eventually my cries dissolved into pitiful whimpering and sniffling. I had covered my ears to block out the sounds of my sobbing, so I wasn’t aware that someone had entered the room and was now watching me until I felt a gentle talon on my quivering back.


I looked up and stared into the face of another griffon.


The griffon was tall and gaunt, with long arms, black plumage, ruffled gray feathers and a thin, almost effeminate face with a slender and small beak, light blue eye markings that made his piercing yellow eyes seem all the more so, and a high brow that gave him a somewhat imperious air.


“Hello, Gilda.” he said, and I instantly felt my muscles relax at his rich, soft voice.


I tried to reply, but my brain and tongue were still getting used to each other, so I could only coo like an infant. The sounds that I made elicited a wide grin from the griffon, who  knelt next to me and shook my talon.


“My name is Melkonis and your name is Gilda. Can you say that?”


I thought for a moment, then I opened my beak and said, falteringly, “G-g-gild-Gildaaah?”


Melkonis chuckled, “Almost, try again.’


This time I managed to say my name with more confidence than I had displayed previously, “Gilda!”


This time Melkonis laughed out loud and clapped his talons together.


“Wonderful!” he exclaimed, his happy tone making me smile, “You’ve retained some of, if not most of, your previous intellect, splendid!” 


“S-splendid?” I inquired. 


Melkonis patted my head and said, “I see that you’re quite curious about-well...everything, so I’ll have your father give you some books.With any luck you’ve still retained your ability to read.”


The necromancer stood up, but I clung to his waist like a toddler to her mother. Melkonis gently pulled my talons off of his person and admonished me sternly, telling me that he would be back in a few minutes.


So I sat down and waited in sullen silence for him to return.


But he never did.


Instead, my father entered the room. I sat there and studied his proud features as he looked at my new body with what I first thought to be curiosity that matched my own. But, looking back on it now and recalling his features, I can remember the way his throat tightened and his eyes grew cold as he looked at me.


My father was disgusted and saddened by my appearance, and it terrifies me now.


There is something that I should mention about myself: I have never once seen my reflection. The most of my body that I can see are my hind paws and talons, both of which are adorned with thin, well-crafted metal braces that appear to be bolted into my flesh.


It doesn’t hurt, but it seems to inspire that look of disgust in my father whenever he lays eyes on them.


Does that mean that I’m ugly?



I sometimes think of asking my father, but my fear weighs my tongue down and tightens my throat, I’m not afraid because I think that he’ll confirm my fears, I’m afraid because I Know that he’ll confirm my fears.


I must look truly horrific if it can make a griffon who is as steadfast as my father tremble and avert his eyes, but I can at least understand his dislike of me. After all, he wanted his daughter brought back and instead he got me.


I was revived through arcane and taboo means, sewn together like a living quilt and partially rebuilt with foreign limbs; such a description fits in with the definition of the word monster.


I am a Monster.


You cannot possibly comprehend how painful that was to write just now, I had to turn my head because I had started to leak again. I am now 100 percent sure that the leaking corresponds to my mental and physical pain; now I just have to look up the word that goes with it.


I’ve also realized that, although I know now that I look frightening, I still want to see my new body with my own eyes.


Now I am filled with doubt and loathing. I want to see myself, to see what I look like now and to judge for myself. But I know that I’ll never be able to leave this cell.


I am trapped here.


Trapped. That word has begun to make me angry as of late. I may be a monster, but I know that I have every right to be free. I won’t hurt anyone, I just want to see the sun and the moon and the sky and the stars. I want to see blue oceans and green grass, I want to feel the wind beneath my wings and let the grass tickle my toes.


I want to feel the cold rain on my skin and watch the lightning strike through the gray clouds, I want to watch falling stars and see sunsets on the horizons. 


I want to fly, to run and to live away from my cell.


I want to be free.


But that won’t happen.


And- upon further thought- maybe it shouldn’t. Maybe the world isn’t what I read about, maybe it’s nothing more than I giant cesspool.


But I hope that it isn’t, I really do.


Now I can hear my father coming down the corridor, I can tell it’s him because of the hesitation in his steps, a hesitation that the servants don’t have, but, then again, they’ve never seen me.


I guess it’s time for me to do some more reading and eating, followed by sleep that I am starting to crave more and more.


Well...technically it isn’t the sleep itself that I desire, it is the dreaming that comes with sleep. 


I just hope that I can dream of something new tonight.