At World's End

Chapter One

The first of my senses to return was smell. With it came a tidal waves of scents.

Must. Mold. Wood. Grass.

I'm not sure how I know these smells. I don't even know where I am. Who I am.

I have a feeling that I should be doing something, like getting up and looking around, but all I see is darkness. The endless put of inky black.

Next was my hearing.

I heard a rustling. I didn't feel any indications of an oncoming ambush, so I attributed it to a simple gust of wind. With it came the sound of creaking and groaning, probably from the wood.

My taste didn't reveal much of my surroundings other than what I already knew.

My mouth was dry, but gave away the earthy flavor of nature and wood.

I began to feel a pressure on my back, signaling my returning touch. Something was poking my left calf and a hot bolt of pain sprang up from my left arm. I gritted my teeth against the discomfort.

My sight came back in a flash, giving me a splitting headache. I only saw dizzying flashes of my whereabouts.

A wooden floor. A covered chair. A broken table.

And with that, the world was closed off a I drifted back to the depths of darkness.

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How long I was out was beyond me. My brain seemed to process everything, so now I can look around without passing out.

I still can't remember anything, but I'm sure it'll come back just like everything else did.

I ached all over so getting up was the hardest thing I could remember doing. I guess that's because there's not a lot of competition, considering my current memory... thing.

I grabbed onto the chair with my right hand since my left seemed a little out-of-commission for the moment. I'm willing the bet that I've fractured my wrist or forearm.

The thing poking my calf turned out the be the table; it must've fallen on me at some point in time when I was out.

I slid my body out from whatever crevice or hole it managed to get itself lodged in and finally got into a sitting position on the chair. Thank goodness for opposable thumbs.

Light streamed in from a shattered window above the table. It gave a better look at the place where I was.

It was definitely a house. My house? Not sure. Not having a memory makes it pretty difficult to remember where you live.

Anyway, a door was off to the side, its hinges broken and wood cracked. Behind it appeared to be a hallway.

I was going to have to walk. Lucky me. I felt like a newborn deer, trying to stand and falling, only to get back up on shaky legs.

After three tries, I got to the doorway. A sitting room was laid out before me, complete with a dusty couch and... drumroll please... another covered chair!

I slumped into the room.

There were more windows in this place and through them I saw glimpses of the outside world. It was covered in trees and green grasses. There was also a dilapidated shed in the back of the house. I was on the second floor of the house and I was really not ready to walk down a flight of stairs.

I guess I was going to have to do it at some point, so I readied myself for a long, painful walk to the stairs. That's where the hard part began.

Getting there wasn't as bad as I had thought. But the worst part was what I found on the stairs.

As soon as I got there, I thought a section of the ceiling had fallen in. It seemed to be a flattened, burned out piece of wood or plaster. However, a more in-depth investigation proved that it was definitely not the ceiling. Or any inanimate object for that matter. It was a person. A man to be exact. He wasn't flattened as much as skinny and malnourished. The burned part, however, was very real. His skin was charred and seared, giving him a grotesque appearance. The smell was overwhelming as well. What was worse was what the man symbolized. There was something happening here. I'm not just talking about the memory loss. There's something else.

Something bigger.