×Prologue×
Blood. Blood? Why did he taste blood? Well of course he tasted first, he did not think to look, he could not see. Everything was black, he could only tell he was lying down, his body perpendicular to the walls, laying flat on a cold metal table. He heard noises, jumbled voices, swirling around him, like a thin mist to accompany the fog in his head. There was sand in his nose, he could smell it, the grainy quartz and other assorted minerals smelled of dust and irritated his sinuses.
He opened his eyes, wearily at first, not wanting to see where he was, not wanting to wake from his comfortable sleep. He completely opened his eyes, revealing that he was not, in fact, entirely under a roof, but mostly under a roof. He was looking up and saw the sky, bright and blue, with the sun beating down on him, but only half of it, the other half of the bright orange orb was hidden where a jagged piece of ceiling protruded into the sky, abruptly ending the view. He turned his head to the left, he saw a man, about the same age as him, lying on a table that looked to be the same as his, and sweating profusely, probably due to heat stroke. He turned his head to his right, and he saw a young girl, he observed her more closely, she caught his eyes with her copper red hair, thin lips, and plain clothes, she seemed very serene, also asleep, with a small scar in her left arm which seemed freshly stitched.
“Wait. Stitches? Heat stroke? Am I in a hospital?” he thought to himself.
“No, why would I be here?”
“Unless…”
He looked forward facing his chest. He only saw it briefly though. He saw an arrow, completely intact, intersecting the plane of his chest at a ninety degree angle, and he saw the cuts around it, gaping open, fresh, and bleeding. He saw the rest of his chest, a deep incision going down its entire length, revealing to him his own internal organs. He only had time to say one thing.
“Oh, holy--”
Then he fell back, unconscious.
14-Oct-2008 01:17:42
- Last edited on
22-Feb-2009 23:42:47
by
NovelistElly