Timestone

Chapter One ϟ Awake

I'm staring at a piece of stone that doesn't make sense. At least, I don't think it does. My brain is foggy, so I'm still trying to piece everything together.

The first thing I remember is a flash of blinding white light startling me awake and my lungs desperately fighting for air. Even before regaining my breath, I noticed the chunk of rock directly over my head. It's hovering in mid-air, unattached from the rocky ceiling. At first, I assumed my eyes were playing tricks in the dim cave where I lay, but now that I've stared at it for a while, it's clear that the stone really is floating.

I'd like to keep observing the unorthodox fragment—analyze it, figure it out. But the exhaustion is making it difficult. Every part of my body begs for sleep. I could doze off for another hour or two—or a dozen. It would be easy to slip back into unconsciousness if not for the irritating confusion in my brain.

The strange behavior of the stone isn't the only thing that has my thoughts in disarray. I can't call to mind any details from the previous day that would explain why I'm in this cave. But I lie still, knowing that any second my mind will finish waking up and my memories will settle back into their home.

They don't.

Suddenly, confusion morphs to fright when I realize I can't remember anything—as in, anything at all. I don't even know my name. How is that possible? My brain is broken.

I try to convince myself that I'm still asleep. This is just a nightmare. When I wake up, I'll laugh about how real this seemed. But as the minutes tick by, the disorientation pushes me toward full consciousness.

I attempt to glance at my surroundings, but my neck muscles aren't cooperating. There's a stab of annoyance because I've never had a part of my body disobey a direct order. Then, I start to panic as I realize I can't move any part of my body.

But as horrifying as that is, I brush the issue aside for the time being because that stone is really bothering me now—apparently even more than complete paralysis. Rocks aren't supposed to float. My brain is well enough to know that.

And how did I get into this cave? Who sleeps in a cave? Maybe everything will make sense when I remember who I am.

Then, I realize I do know a few things about myself—just a couple of superficial details. For starters, I'm a boy. I'm seventeen years old. My favorite food is fish sticks. And . . . I guess that's about it. The fish stick one seems oddly random, but it gives me hope that I might start to recall other things.

I've heard of memory loss, or amnesia, happening to people. It usually results from some type of head trauma. Then, it hits me. Terror spreads its tendrils through my chest as I realize I must have been in an accident. That explains the memory loss and why I can't move my body.

But it doesn't explain the floating rock.

The fragment is slowly descending. It hangs just a few feet above my head. I start to worry about what will happen when it reaches my face. I don't have to wait long to find out. The stone suddenly falls as if an invisible thread suspending it was severed. It strikes me between the eyes.

Skrak that hurts. Now, I'm sure this isn't a dream. The rock teeters on the bridge of my nose for a moment, then tumbles down the side of my face. Blood begins to ooze into my eye, so I wipe it away.

Hold on. I wiped the blood away—with my hand. My arm is moving.

I cautiously stretch out my limbs. My muscles feel stiff and sore, but at least they've decided to start obeying orders again. I slowly sit up. Blood drains from my head, and I nearly black out. As I wait for the cave to stop spinning, I notice a static hum filling the cavern chamber. It's probably been there all along, but it seems easy to ignore if you're not focusing on it.