The eternality in our ephemerality

Chapter 7. Karma is a b***

Sunlight pierced my eyes indecorously, and I was forced to split them open. The golden light burned my eyes as if fire itself was staring at me. Piercing my eyes. Reminding me i was alive.... My entire body ached, my nose dripped with illness as my mind stabbed me over and over again. I, like the good masochist i am, stepped out of the comforts of the bed i was in and slowly, much painfully, glided over to the source of the heat. 

My neck coiled into the heat, facing the grand open window with a melancholic smile painted on my lips....but that window was unknown to my memories. Open, full-length from the modern wooden floor boards to the empty ceiling a wide glass torn apart in half was the culprit from victimising my eyes from such scandalous sensation.

My legs darted up, pain firing in the moment and cursing my brain at the action. I started scanning, mostly investigating, the room I encountered myself at: a room unrecognisable to any of my ancient visits to friends or families, a room to which shame shouted carelessly for it was the room of the woods unwitting host. Simple, minimalistic and strangley.... unwanted. It stood with white plain walls that possessed no decoration despite a single plant in a flower pot and unboxed packings laying without any particular order. King sized bed with navy and white colored bed sheets; no pillows nor photos hung on the walls, no decoration...simply the basic and irrefutably necessary to inhabit such a place. A frown scattered across my lips along with the thought that haunted me from the inside: who is the person who had saved my life?

I knew now, 100% sure, that someone had to have saved me. My feet standing on this floor were the proof of it.  Someone, I suppose, careless about the materialistic peculiarities in human nature, had spared my life. But where was he now? Why did he leave me here, alone? Did he believe i wanted some privacy? was he aware i thought he might be a figment of my imagination? ....But now, after speculating his.... room? (if it can even be called that) after speculating him in more detail and a clearer image: could it be someone that might grace the line of inattention? Of carelessness?

Did he know I was awake?

My legs begun to tour the place, the new source of entertainment. I directed myself straight to wherre the plant was, gracing it gently with my fingertips and noticing its existence was probably diminished. Leafs on the floor, no blooming flowers and somehat burned stem. The little petals that remained on the plant, clung fiercely to its last shreds.

A point to my inattention theory. An oak furniture desk was the only homely and captivating acquisition my eyes could be graced upon, all other things were mixed and bundled, exhilarated in a corner of the room where no one could be interested; and simply because of such fact: I stared, appalled, at such incoherence and negligence fixated on the boxes, covered in webs and suffocated in a thick, unbendable dust of dirt.

Did somebody actually live here? Because so far it looked more like an abandoned house, not completley falling apart, but missing the essential warmth for it to be called a home.

I peeked out the window and the view resonated amongst my eyes. The grey fence half open, the entrance of the woods, the path that lead me back to my house.

Suddenly it struck me, I was in the abandoned house.

Who the hell had moved here? Was he the owner of the house? No, no he's a kid he can't own a house.

Mama!

Does she know I am here? Does she know I am safe? Oh my god she doesn't even know I was in the woods and now in this room, oh no, oh no, oh no.

She will kill me, I will die.

"Achiu"

Correction, she will kill me if this cold doesn't kill me first.