Windows to the Soul
Nothing competes with the visceral shock that initially courses through me when I take over someone else’s body. Well, it’s the borrowed body that experiences the shock. It’s marked by a little shiver, sometimes accompanied by the ringing of their ears for a second or two, or they look around like they feel someone near. But they don’t truly know someone else is observing.
My consciousness is no longer in my own body so I couldn’t tell you what goes on there in the gaps of time where I slip into the skin of another. Usually, it’s without their knowing. In those circumstances, it’s like looking out a window at the ocean. The background hum of movement and conversation is muffled, but I have a fantastic view.
On the other hand, I’ll occasionally stumble across someone truly vile.
Those are the ones whose window I shatter before they can cause any more harm. I can’t play observer under those conditions where it feels like my hands are the ones dealing blows.
They don’t quite know what is going on when I take over. They just lose control of their limbs, but not in an easy comatose kind of way. No, they start moving under my control. No matter how hard they try to struggle, they can’t resist where I want us to go.
They can’t pull their feet from the boots we’re filling with cement. Can’t stop their heavy feet from walking out into the ocean or lake. It’s a little uncomfortable when I can’t drink in the air anymore, but once they're deep enough I don’t need to linger.
