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Rated: ASR · Fiction · Sci-fi · #1576896
A man awakens in a hostile world. What is the candid meaning behind the patterns of life?
For more of this piece, check out the Powers and Principalities book item on my portfolio.



Chapter 1


         There was a silence. This is the kind of silence that disturbs one’s state of mind like being struck by lightning. Waking up with a fresh sweat, as if from a breaking fever, gives the surreal feeling that I’ve somehow been unconscious too long. Surreal is such a redundant description for experiencing one’s awakening conscious into the shadowy unknown.

As I pried my eyes open for the first time, I felt exhausted from the strain of moving these muscles. Each joint moved begrudgingly as I wiped my sand-encrusted hands over my face to rub my eyes. It appeared I was somehow in a desert. Atrophy had been lingering over my body for awhile, yet somehow I remember that I was standing. Trails of hot sweat trickled down my trembling face.

          Following my initial frenzied urges, I examined every inch of my fair-skinned body and searched my surroundings like a bloodhound. Although nothing about my body seemed out of place, it was hard to tell since I had no recollection of myself. So for all I knew, the elusive ‘they’ could have removed that sixth finger I may have been born with. It’s a shame my first glimpse of the world wasn’t prettier. My location was a disembodied oasis amidst a field of charred unintelligible fragments with rolling sand dunes visible nearby.

          Beyond the scattered remains was an endless but peaceful ocean of dry sand. Worse fates exist than not having any idea who you are, where you are, or why you don’t have any clothes. At least I was free of any sense that I should feel bad about what must have scorched this place. 

          The unmistakable squawk of a bird caught my attention. It returned my stare with a passing glance and I knew it was called a crow. Obviously alive, I couldn’t keep my eyes off of it. It and I were the only living things in this dead place. How could I know so many things but not any aspect of my own identity?

          I clenched my outgrown hair, dug my nails into my scalp, and shut my eyes as tightly as possible as if I could somehow force my memory to function. My mind was a broken VCR that kept getting jammed on at a certain point. I couldn’t remember anything before a few minutes ago. “How could this be?” I asked myself. My voice seemed somehow familiar. I had to stop this line of thinking, since I would surely drive myself mad before long.

          Restlessness was setting in and I knew that I had to go, a feeling that there was some place that I had to be, but I just didn’t know what my purpose was yet. Ambiguity was a brick wall in my psyche, blocking me from propelling forward. The course of action escaped me; I was as a computer in error.

          Remaining nearby, I was capable of thinking but afraid to think. The burden of not knowing what to do loomed over me. I watched the subtle drift of the sun toward the horizon. Once the night was fully realized, countless points of multicolored lights appeared, piercing red lights and soft yellow ones casually reigned over the sky. I gazed up and stole myself. Even in the midst of such confusion, the beauty of the desert sky was incredible.

          While not distracted by the world, my thoughts were more vivid. Only when I allowed myself to think did I realize the obvious: I was not only capable of choosing what to make of myself, but that was my only option. That night I somehow slept on a bed of foreign sand in a place where nothing seemed quite right. The only thing keeping the hungry terror from tearing into my thin veil of collectedness was a hopeful notion that all would make sense later.

          In patience forged by fear of the unknown and an attempt to keep myself disciplined, I waited for the sun to rise before I would venture out. While waiting for the sun to rise, I almost wanted to stay in this state of limbo and put off this great task that could lead to my own death. The rising of the sun marked the rising of a new era for me as I shut off my fears and put myself in the hands of God.

          After taking a huge breath into my lungs I sprinted off. Although feeling much better than yesterday, I had to force my body to cooperate. “Why do you have to be here!?” I asked a hill that once looked down at me, after I conquered it. I spared myself a lengthy descend and just leapt down. My joints groaned as I landed painfully. The sand between my bare toes felt odd, it tested my balance.

          The heavy winds blew sand into my skin. Since they moved so fast, and so many scraps of the building were left uncovered, I deduced that it must have been destroyed recently. Hazed by the distance, looming over the horizon was a thin tower cutting into the clouds. From the top was a gloomy shade of crimson, as if the structure was crowned with a lantern. Perhaps it was a lighthouse of sorts. Another one, significantly further in the opposite direction, was barely visible.

          I began sprinting towards the nearer of the two. The pain began to subside as I ran. A large cloud of kicked-up sand followed behind my rapid footsteps. As I accelerated, something inside my chest began to vibrate as subtly as the sun moved.

          Being alone was peaceful, almost not existing, Zen. Aside from the occasional ruins of former buildings, I was in an abyss, while my target ahead never seemed to get any closer. My Zen was cut short when among the ruins the silhouette of a man became visible.
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