Bones and Roses

The first tremor, a small change in the earth, was almost imperceptible. But for me, it was a 'thunderclap', not the trembling itself that startled me, but accompanied ... by a very special feeling. A flash, a spark, a feeling so strange that it feels like a betrayal in the subconscious itself. Painful, inaccurate, that is... dissatisfaction. A deep dissatisfaction with the monotonous, echoing silence of my existence.

Until that moment, my life had been a predictable rhythm of dust dancing in the dim light filtered through the cracks in the ceiling of the catacombs, where the ever-present weight of dirt and cobwebs had accumulated over the centuries, with the occasional hasty appearance of unseen creatures. I was just a collection of bones, meticulously arranged but completely inert...

"This dissatisfaction, this longing..." - I feel its appearance as a great crack in the surface, built up from the limited knowledge accumulated from my existence, and that it is transforming me?

Exactly, my perception changed, like when the sun rises for the first time over a desolate, colourless landscape. I began to observe my surroundings with a new intensity. Similar fragments of dust, previously ignored, now appeared as complex swirling galaxies. The faint sounds that had been ambient noise became a symphony of distant whispers, echoes and rumbles. Obviously it was the sound of life, of the living world, far from my world of stone and dust, where the water droplets echoing in space were distinct sounds, just enough to fill the vast, tasteless void.

My senses, or rather my sense of touch, have also become more subtle - I have gradually become aware of the changing air currents and a sense of... temperature, although I don't have the biological apparatus to deal with it. A slight cooling or warming in a particular part of the catacombs, not detected by any organ, but by... my intuition. It's a strange thing - new, an intuition that transcends the limits of my bones. Now my body doesn't just react to the environment, I experience it, and I want more.

This is not just perception; it is something beyond that, a desire that goes beyond simple cognition. It's a thirst for knowledge, for meaning, for something... more. The other skeletons - my brothers - remain silent, unaware of this particular awakening within me. They are content with their silence, their non-existence. They are skeletons and that's enough. But I... - I was different, although that difference made me a little scared and nervous.

Whispers from the outside world, whispers that had not been clear before, began to take shape more clearly. I learned about the bustling city from above, a place of pulsating life, of chaos and order, of love and loss, of joy and sorrow. It's a world full of energy, a world I'm desperate to understand. The whispers are like threads that weave a tapestry of human existence, its complexities and contradictions. I listen to their stories of love, loss, betrayal and heroism, absorbing them like a sponge absorbs water. Each story fuels my growing desire to break free from my captivity and experience this world for myself.

My newfound awareness also sharpened my senses, and the ability to perceive small vibrations in the Earth's evolution was also sharpened in me. I could feel the faint vibrations of footsteps above, the rumble of carts, even the faint beat of distant drums. Each vibration is an invitation, a siren's song, drawing me to the world beyond the catacombs. The monotonous, dim light above my head was a promise, no, it was not just a monotonous light, but something much greater.

The desire to escape quickly grew as I listened to the stories of the human world. Tales of love and heartbreak, of ambition and despair, resonated with a strange power within me. These emotions are strange, yet somehow familiar, like faded memories from a forgotten past. I longed to understand them, to feel them, even in a way that defied my bony nature. I am a paradox, a sentient being trapped in an inanimate form, motivated by a desire to transcend the limits of my own existence. I longed to feel the warmth of the sun over there... even though the flesh does not exist; to taste the pale taste of rain, to experience the cold and snowflakes of winter.

But the transition has been difficult. I am not just an observer of the human world; I am a participant, a player in the great game of life, even though I am not considered a participant. My nature, my bone structure, has presented enormous challenges. I am fragile, easily broken; I can't eat, drink or sleep. How can I navigate a world built for flesh and blood? The very act of breathing is impossible for me, but breathing is not what I am trying to do. But the dissatisfaction I felt, the deep urge to explore, to understand, overcame all my fears and obstacles.

My preparation began in earnest. I've spent countless "days" - or periods of cognitive emptiness - carefully observing patterns of life, people's habits, their vulnerability. Whispers provide insights into the social structure, their beliefs, their fears, even their language. I learned their idioms and slang, their customs and mannerisms, piecing together the fabric of their world like a meticulous jigsaw puzzle.

The biggest challenge is hiding. How can I, a skeleton, walk among the people without being noticed? My very appearance is sure to arouse suspicion, horror or worse. It was impossible for me to face it directly, but the burning desire inside me could not be extinguished. This forced me to find a way to blend in, to hide my true nature, to create a deceptive appearance as a living being. The plan had to be perfect or my life would end in a "creepy performance". Appearance is not just a matter of survival, it's a matter of experiencing life.

I began to study the shadows. The darkest, darkest corners of the catacombs became my classroom. I practised moving as quietly as possible for a skeleton. My movement is a ballet of precise calculations, a dance of bones and balls. I had to move like a ghost, a ghost invisible to the world. The more time I spent practising in the dark, the more I realised how important it was to blend in with the world around me, to be able to understand the culture I was about to immerse myself in.

With each successful rehearsal, my confidence grew. I knew I still faced insurmountable challenges, but the spark of rebellion burned within me, and it burned brighter with each passing moment. The monotonous existence that once defined me is now a distant memory, replaced by a thrilling anticipation of the unknown, a desire to unravel the mysteries of the living world and find my place in it, even if that place is only in the dark. This is my revolution, my personal rebellion against monotonous and silent existence, against boring and dull things. My bones feel the thrill of anticipation, even though they don't have any form of sensation. It was all in my head, in my own perception of the change that was coming.