Darkness. Nothing but darkness. My world and it's colors had been taken from me by claws of pain and suffering. The hellish nothingness enveloped my existence, forcing it into submission. The will to understand fled from my mind, and I gave myself to the blackened place. Nothing mattered. Nothing had ever mattered, and nothing would.
How did I get here? my thoughts fluttered into my head temptingly. Stubbornly, I refused to answer. Why does it hurt? Don't answer, don't answer, don't answer. I closed my eyes tighter and tried to fight the thoughts that were forming once more. This isn't right, I need to...
A sick, gargling noise broke my fragmented concentration, drawing me into relentless reality. My body, shaken and in pain, doubled over as I hacked up a warm, pulpy substance. My fingers dug into the ground, rooting themselves in thick strands of unkempt grass. Dirt stung my fingers as it embedded itself beneath my nails. It was the last of my concerns.
I continued to cough painfully, still gagging on spit and blood. The black snapped away, bombarding me with blurred imagery. I blinked away the onslaught of tears in a futile attempt to clear my vision. The blood kept coming. How much blood could a person puke up before they died? Surely I'd far since exceeded that deadly amount?
In and out, my eyesight adjusted. I saw great, towering trees with mighty branches far above my reach. A sun bleached sky was stretched out above me like a silken blanket. The sun, a glowing orb in the sky, stung my eyes.
By now my chin and the front of my shirt were covered in a thick syrup of red. It had begun to pool around my trembling hands as well. I stared down at my twisted arms uncomprehendingly. They shouldn't work, but they shouldn't hurt either. It was suppose to be over. It wasn't meant to get me anymore.
Exhausted, my broken body fell into the crusty dirt. My face hit the slimy collection of deep red, some of it seeping into my eye. Everything else was too much for me to care about such a petty agitation. My chest convulsed again. More blood sprayed across the forest floor. I could taste it in every part of my mouth, and feel it like bile in my throat.
Hands of unconsciousness fingered my mind, caressing it, comforting it. The soft voice of sleep called to me like the most beautiful song. I didn't fight it, no. Blissfully, I allowed the terrible darkness to claim me again.
Hours, maybe even days, could have passed. To me, though, it felt like mere seconds before my eyes reluctantly opened again. My sight came back to me much more smoothly. I stared unblinkingly at the base of a tree. I laid there for a time, oblivious of everything but the tree. Even that held little to no focus. My head was muddled, an unsteady toddler with a bruised knee.
Finally, I received the ambition to move. Throwing aside experimental twitches and cation, I heaved myself off the ground. My arms felt a crushing force from the pitiful lightness of my thin body. The muscles strained, twitched, and gave out. I slumped back onto the ground, my arms burning from the tiny exertion.
Biting my lip, I tried again. I knew I was weak, but not so that I could not lift myself from the dirt. Quickly this time, I got to my knees. My breath came in short gasps. What was happening to me?
The side of my face was matted with browning crust, as were my hands. I stared at the dried water and iron. I looked next to the stain of it on the ground. There was so much; more than I could have produced. Surely I'd have bled to death long before such spillage could accumulate?
Disregarding the mess, I made an effort to turn my head. This, as it turned out, was no easy feat. Every inch of my body ached like I'd have never thought possible. It was an invisible force that must have been holding me upright. The thought of standing seemed an unattainable dream.
As the wheels began to turn once more, my mind started reading. I took each sight and broke it down into words, which were easier to analyze. I was in a wood, surrounded my sturdy trees. I was resting upon a patch of grass beneath a break in the thick canopy of leaves. It was unfamiliar and bewildering. I held no recollection of where I'd been before, or how I'd come to be.
The sky's breath stirred the trees, carrying unintelligible whispers of other places. I listened to the wind, felt it on my skin. The fine hairs on my arms stood up as I was chilled. With still shaky hands, I untied my sweater from my waist. Carefully, painstakingly, I slid my arms into the dark blue sweater. Even harder was the task of zipping it up.
I blinked at my T-shirt, taking note of the the ugly blood stain. It was far bigger than my size, black, and had big, white lettering. ”I have no idea what's going on,” I read. Befitting. I pulled the zipper the rest of the way up, concealing the way-too-big shirt behind it.
Urged on by the unknown, I found the strength to stand. To my surprise, there was no pain to be felt this time. My limbs were in order, straight, unbroken, and fully operational. Regardless, my chest throbbed, a rhythmic blend of heart and hurt. My lungs ached, and my ribcage felt like it had been thrust open from within. I dreaded the bout of coughing that seemed to hang over my head.
The wind danced passed again, twirling in a transparent ballet I could only pray to see some day. I looked to the sky, searching for an idea. I had nowhere to go. No one to find. No reason to be found. I had no reason to believe it, but a milestone in heart told me I was fading. I didn't feel real, or feel alive. I was a doll; expressionless, nameless.
Knowing what I was slipping into, I tried to find words. Words were my savior. They were lights, and they were swords. The simple act of speech was like a lifeline in these situations, when the weight of my logic threatened to swallow me up. But alas, not a syllable was uttered. My lips didn't even part. My dead gaze just looked at nothing, and my emotions hid themselves from me. Only a heaviness remained. The milestone.
I had to move. I had to do something.
At random, I chose a direction and started to walk. I dared not think of what lay in wait for me. The risk of losing myself was too high at that moment. I had to watch myself then, not the world. But that held its dangers as well. So lost in thought was I, that I was too daft to hear the rushing of a river. My heart leaped within me as I nearly walked straight into the brine.
Steadying myself, I backed away from the water. The shock was good for me. I needed to be jolted out of this soulless state. I put my hand to my heart and concentrated on breathing. I was calm again long before I stopped. I appreciated each and every distraction more than the beating of the heart that had cursed me so.
That's right, I thought bitterly, digging my fingers into my collarbone. I closed my eyes and turned my head, as if looking away from a disgusting sight. Dreadful thing. I shook my head, forcing the deadly reminiscences out of existence.
I turned my attention to the river once more. Without a thought, I began to follow it, going along with its flow. The powerful sound of the treacherous waters relaxed me some. I allowed my imagination to submerge itself in the tumult, building terrible ideas I'd later write down for the sake of a tragic book.
As the day wore on, my mood remained vacant. I should have pondered the cause, anger, sorrow, hate. But of course, I did no such thing. I did not care to log my emotions in the presence of no one.
“Hn?” It was the first sound I'd made. I peered ahead, uncertain of what I was seeing without my glasses. It was then that I noticed they were missing in the first place. Ignoring the minuscule loss, I began to move closer, squinting at the smeary image before me. Sure enough, it was a settlement.
Despite this seemingly positive discovery, I was deterred. It looked nothing like any city or town I'd come across back home. The closer I drew the clearer the buildings. They were not modern, they were not American. Finally, I was so close I could smell the baked goods from the market. I stared at the strange little town, filled with sandy colored buildings with clay shingle roofs. No, it wasn't a town, it was a village.
I entered, fully aware that I was most likely unwelcome. My face, half caked in blood, earned the stares of every stranger who laid eyes on me. Their shocked, scared, and suspicious gazes devoured me. Many of them looked to my bloodied hands, and overall filthy appearance. I must have resembled the spawn of Satan, the looks they were giving me.
I didn't hear the man who grabbed my arm. I didn't start when he touched me so suddenly, I was too tired. I simply stopped walking and allowed him to assault me with questions. Little did he know my mind was not yet oriented enough to decently decipher human speech. I caught only small fragments of his words, like a poorly mended sheet filled with holes.
He turned me around, forcing me to look at him. I said nothing, only stared at him with dead eyes. He froze as my eyes met his. He must have seen something in the deathly gray-blue pools. Perhaps the deep purple depressions beneath my eyes had hooked a bite of pity off of him. Or maybe my complete lack of interest in what he was saying startled him. I did not know. I did not care.
“Come with me, girl,” he finally said. “You have some questions to answer, but it can wait until tomorrow.”
Again, I stayed silent. I followed the man sluggishly. I was being shackled by the pain that had decided to come back, and the bitter tiredness that hindered my speech.
I was lead into a small wooden building, probably some kind of inn. Had I been more vigilant, I'd have noticed that all of the signs were written in an Asian tongue. Instead, I dismissed my inability to read as yet another side effect of the previous events.
Somehow, I ended up in a bed, with blankets pulled up to my chin. Someone had removed my shoes, as well as my sweater, leaving me in my blues jeans and blood stained shirt.
I allowed my head to sink into the pillow. My eyes fell shut like stones dropped from a cliff. Immediately, the lullaby of dreamland sang to me once more.
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Chapter notes: My first story on here, hn? Please be kind, but honest. If I suck, tell me, I'll improve. I appreciate knowing what people think of my work, so reviews are appreciated. Thank you.