The Host
Chapter One
Remembered
I knew it would begin with the end, and the end would look like
death to these eyes. I had been warned.
Not these eyes. My eyes. Mine. This was me now. The language I found
myself using was odd, but it made sense. Choppy, boxy, blind, and
linear. Impossibly crippled in comparison to many I'd used, yet
still it managed to find fluidity and expression. Sometimes beauty.
My language now. My native tongue.
With the truest instinct of my kind, I'd bound myself securely into
the body's center of thought, twined myself inescapably into its
every breath and reflex until it was no longer a separate entity. It
was me.
Not the body, my body.
I felt the sedation wearing off and lucidity taking its place. I
braced myself for the onslaught of the first memory, which would
really be the last memory-the last moments this body had
experienced, the memory of the end. I had been warned thoroughly of
what would happen now. These human emotions would be stronger, more
vital than the feelings of any other species I had been. I had tried
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