~ * Things to remember *~

Lost and found

All he could remember was the fall.

Endlessly spiraling down.

Deeper.

Farer.

Deeper down into nothingness.

Farer away from everything he used to know.

It had only been a small gap, a small hole covered by leaves on the ground but he kept falling down.

The temperature raised and fell, the light vanished, keeping him hidden in sheer endless darkness.

He couldn't remember the impact from crashing into rotten concrete.

He couldn't remember the moment his world began to spin.

He couldn't remember who he had been.

But he could remember the fall.

The fear of never having solid ground under his feet again.

The fear of never seeing his family again.

The fear of dying alone.

He could remember the moment he wasn't able to see the sky anymore.

He could remember the images dancing across his mind.

The figures resembling his family.

Distorted smiles.

Rotten bones.

And the screams.

He could still hear the screams that hadn't left his lips.

"Get up! You need to get up and run!"

His small body hurt. The scream sounded dull, so far away as if only his subconsciousness was listening in a dream. A dream, was that it? A dream? A nightmare? Everything hurt. The taste of iron was lingering on his tongue, warm liquid dripping down the corners of his mouth, along his jaw. The puddles under is body felt warm, as warm as his own body was used to feel but soon everything felt so cold and empty. His world was still spinning. He could see his mother dance across their living room, his sister laughing in her arms. He could see his father, his brothers. He could see them smile, see them laugh. Their laughter was ringing in his ears, filling his heart but why did it feel so wrong? Why did it feel as if they were laughing about him? At one moment he could see them laugh, but at the next he could see them cry. With every breath he took the images turned more and more into scenarios he didn't want to witness. Why was he dreaming about such things if he had never feared them before? Why was this nightmare holding his heart in a tight grip, threatening to crush it? The boy could now see them cry standing in front of a small grave, a name he used to know written on the withered stone. Their tears were glistening in the sun, he could see them fall onto the dusty stone, slowly dripping onto his foul skin. Warmth. Salt. Every drop felt like it was etching his skin off his bones. It hurt. Everything hurt.

"RUN! Get up and run!"

He could hear the voice again somewhere deep inside his mind. It was still dull but why did it sound so desperate? Run. Run. Run. Why should he want to run? Everything hurt, he didn't want to run. He didn't want to move. The voice, was it a woman's voice? Did he know her? Why did she scream at him? The earth felt cold under his weak body, calming, curing the ache that spread through every fiber of his being. His body. Who's body? Was it his body that had been falling down into nothingness or was at a vessel that had never really belonged to him?