The Waking

Silence.

Complete utter silence.

And then, a monotonous ringing is heard, accompanying my consciousness, or rather, reminding me the i have one.

I start to breathe. Inhale, then exhale.

Slowly my senses start to kick in. First the ringing dissipates, into something deeper, a long howling banshee sound, like that of a wind.

I feel my hands, my fingers. They tell me of something uncomfortable beneath. Around. Everywhere. I can feel my organs inside, wrapped around a thin layer of skin. Skin irritation comes with the howling sound. It feels like small little ice particles pricking on my face. maybe that's what it is.

Squint, because that's what we do before we open our eyes. We squint first to make sure our eyes are in place. I squint and feel knives stabbing my eyes. Moments later the pain is bearable and I slowly open my lids.

Something hard jabs at my tear ducts. I flick it off with my finger. A sand particle. It should be normal for people coming up from sleep, except mine is real sand. No wait, there's more. In fact, it's all around me.

As the blurry white slowly melts into shapes, I now see myself lying on a dune sea, with the winds howling, throwing more sand around on my face.

Is this real?

Am I Real?

Fuck, my chest hurts. I guess that's real. Is that my lungs, oww damn. My heart's beating fast, painfully fast. Well now I know Im alive, or at least I feel a live.

Where the hell am I? What am I? As I stand up amidst the chaos sands, I know one thing's for sure. I'm alone, for nothing else resembles that of life, or what I make of life, for miles away.

I start to walk, slowly, painfully. God damn shoes would be a great idea.

Time flows through almost like a stream, almost non existent. I don't remember how long I walk, was it 5 minutes or 5 years? A million questions and thoughts run through my already heavy head. I don't know if it's the thoughts that's giving me this bloody headache or the rough sand storm.

I keep thinking and keep walking and keep wondering and SHIT OW FUCK!!

My toe, my god damn fucking toe. Stupid fucking rectangular rock. Wait, what the hell.

A book. What the hell is it... oh fuck it. As I brush the sand off the cover, I recognize a logo, that of a broken hourglass. Let's see what's inside.

Writings... Pages upon pages of different handwritings. They seem to be telling a story, a journal perhaps. Yeah that's what it is. A journal, with a broken hourglass, and handwritings of different people.

Hmm... perhaps I should read one entry. It's not like I have anything better to do anyway.

The first entry seems rough and hard, the pages almost tearing a part. Still, it seems pretty well written.