Within a sudden instant, the young man felt a sense of euphoria. His nostrils were suddenly filling with air, the warm atmosphere was the opposite of excruciating, and somehow he felt lighter. Like a large weight had been lifted from his shoulders.
He shot up from his bed as if he had awoken from a nightmare. His hands ran through his soft curls and looked over to his dresser drawers where small accessories laid scattered about on top.
With the reminder of the cuddle party later that night in his mind, he got up with ease. "Finally I can move around," he muttered to himself.
As he stretched out his limbs while standing, he felt loose as if he didn't need to hunch over anymore. That thought alone almost brought a smile to his face.... Almost.
He slowly walked to his wooden dresser, not nearly as happy to be going to another gathering with a new group of friends as he used to be. He then looked at himself in the mirror. The suit he wore was the same as the night before, so it seemed pointless to change into a new one.
He reached for the silver-colored cuff links as he looked at his wrist out of habit. When the tips of his fingers touched, he felt nothing between them like there should've been. His brow furrowed with confusion as he tried to pick up the cuff link again, however, his fingers went right through it. He tried a third time, then a fourth, and by the fifth, he tried to force it into his hand by hitting his palm onto the damned thing. But when his palm reached the dresser, not only did he feel and hear nothing, but his hand went right through it. No sound of the dresser being hit, no feeling of the mahogany wood. Nothing.
He raised his eyes to the mirror in front of him and saw the reflection of the bed he just arose from. There, at the foot of his bed, rested a copy of the shoes he wore.
Slowly he turned around as his breathing picked up. On his bed laid a moment he never thought he'd regret. His eyes were open, his mouth was slightly agape, and both of his hands rested on different parts of his torso. This was him. The real, physical him.
He let out a blood-curdling scream that only he could hear, or so he thought. His hands shook while his legs gave out. He knew that she wouldn't come, she hardly ever did, yet all he could think to do was call for his mother. Once he realized what his reality was, nothing but tears were able to comfort him.
"You called for me?" a beautiful voice rang through his hallway. Footsteps could be heard coming toward him from the end of his hallway. With each step the unknown woman took, the little jingle of bells could be heard. When she emerged from the hallway into his bedroom doorway, the first thing he noticed was the massive thick feathered black wings attached to her. She wore a deep purple dress that flowed behind her when she walked. Her neck showcased a glorious collar necklace of garnets and the anklets she wore were made of copper charms of sigils and small bells. Her long wavy black hair covered her shoulders and guarded the black snake slithering up to her horns. One of the same sigils from her charms was painted in black on the center of her forehead.
The young man backed away to the corner of the gloomy room in fear of the beautiful being. "Who are you?"
The woman then walked to the man and she asked, "Did you not call for me?" She held out her hand for him to take. "I who am your mother?"