Amnesia

8

I breathed in the sweet, fresh air that the outside country provided. The house was in the middle of green, lush fields. Flowers cocooned the house. Flowers of many colours, shapes and sizes. I sat down in a dense patch of overgrowth, near a small, flowing river. I looked down, rocks shone in the sun, and my reflection looked up at me. It looked up at me with a face of disgust, a face of pure hatred.

I woke up in the crusty bed, the sheets, once again, protecting me from danger. The night was bright, the Stars granted me peace and quiet, signalling for everyone to be asleep, something that I didn't remember. I got up and I made my way to the back door by feeling my way through the possessions of my old family. I slid the door open, it was unlocked. I stepped outside, choking on the thick, black cloud of smoke. Flowers lay on the floor, dying, hoping that water would be provided with the next day. I sat down in a dead shrivelled patch of what used to be grass. Houses surrounded the gardens, walls towered over the dead and dying souls. Nothing like my dream. This is nothing like my dream. Tears burst from my eyes, dripping into the shards of grass. I sat there and I cried.