Introducing Y/n, just like any other ordinary girl, but with a magical twist. Bewitched and cursed to wait for 550 years to find true love, she's unaware of her fate. Transformed into an inanimate object, she must find a way to save the soul bound t...
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As the door opens again, I meticulously keep track of the silence that permeates the house, observing that it occurs six times, equating to six days. If I were truly alive, I would have succumbed to starvation or perhaps more likely, dehydration. Gradually, I become aware of my ability to move my eyes, yet it remains completely pitch black and I am unsure of how I came to this realization. The entirety of this experience is highly illusory and I am at a loss as to the reason for its occurrence.
As I focus my attention on my fingers and neck, I am bewildered by their movement, yet somehow I am aware of their capability. Within these six days, my body gradually returns to functioning, but every movement is an exhausting task, as if the air surrounding me is made of dense, heavy gelatin making moving through it very difficult.
Although I am not breathing, I am surprisingly unafraid of death. However, I am unable to feel any sensation, not the wood of the chair upon which I sit, not the air in the room, not even my own physical being. The opening of the door is announced by the heavy footfalls ascending the stairs, as if the person is running rather than walking, followed by the sound of another door opening and closing, and the clicking of a lock.
Moments of silence ensue, until a sudden cacophony of noise erupts as multiple sets of feet ascend the stairs, causing me to reflexively jump at the unexpected thundering sound, at least that is what I would have done if I were capable of movement. The sound of multiple doors opening and closing, one after the other, fills the air, before settling into silence once more.
As soft sounds reach my ears, I hold my breath, or at least that is what I imagine I would do. The lock clicks and light floods in as the door suddenly creaks loudly upon opening. The person, who was about to enter the room, abruptly halts, their eyes wide with shock, as they whisper, "I didn't leave you like that." I can detect a hint of fear in their voice.
Oh no, I must have moved too much. I decide to make my presence known and slowly lift my arm, but as soon as the person sees it, they flee the room, slamming the door shut behind them. I sigh internally, or at least that is what I assume I would do, as I am still uncertain about my ability to feel or express emotions. I am disappointed that I have not yet regained my voice, as that would make communication much easier.
Throughout the six days, I attempted to stand and walk, anticipating that my strength would have been depleted. My first attempt resulted in me collapsing to the floor, making a loud noise, but fortunately, no one came to investigate. It took some effort, but I managed to return to the chair, a complete enigma to myself as to how I accomplished it.
On my second attempt, I used the chair for support and was able to stand. I was elated by this small victory, as I believed that if I could feel my muscles contracting, then I would also be able to feel when I touched something. However, as I held the chair, I realized that I could not feel it. Over the course of six days, I was able to take small, slow steps, gaining strength and waiting after each step before taking the next one.
