Phobia

Chapter One: A Fear of Death

Darkness consumes me.

For a second the world felt still, as if everything was right as it should be, in place, on time.

Then I opened my eyes.

A flood of memories washed away the peace of silence and images of fire and suffering replaced it. I recalled, with great fear, being burned alive.

The world swirled around me, pain seared my skin, and my whole body was devoured by flame. Faint screams vainly tried to yell over the sound of a crackling inferno that surrounded me.

Snapping from my confusion, I focused my eyes on my surroundings, finally regaining consciousness.

Where am I?

Suddenly, color came to vision, and a blurred daze of what seemed like my surroundings came into sight.

So dizzy…

“Welcome back, Mr. Grey.” A voice greeted, in a soft, soothing tone. The monotone sound seemed almost inhuman.

I couldn’t speak. My foggy vision cleared. There was something in my hand; it felt metallic. Lifting the tool to level with my eyes, I made out a weapon of some sort.

A pistol.

“Where have you taken me?” I called out to the sky. My voice seemed alien, like it was my first time hearing it.

“Hush, my friend, you have work to do.” The voice replied.

I acknowledged the voice above, perhaps out of fear, or perhaps out of respect. Either way, I knew that whatever this “work” was that I had to complete was necessary for my escape.

Moving my legs for the first time, they felt stiff and painful to move. An open white room surrounded me, walls curving in weird positions forming a more open, less confusing maze-like hall. Taking another step, I cringed. My bones were heavy, and I felt as if an iron block anchored me to the floor. Despite this, I managed to walk a few feet before confronting my first tangible visitor.

It looked like a sloppy pile of machinery at first, but later I made out a long, beak-like structure poking from what seemed to be a head. Two, unblinking red eyes glowed without passion or awareness. Stick-like legs extended from a torso and the creature took a step forward, making an ear-shattering noise that sounded like a high-pitched, robotic squawk.

Panicked, I looked around and remembered my weapon.

The aggressive creature charged at me on its skinny legs, yelling a furious battle cry.

Pistol in hand, I ducked behind a wall and shot blindly in the creature’s direction.

“I see you’ve found my little friends,” The same voice returned. “Yes, those are my Songbirds. They may cause a bit of trouble for you, but do try to take care of them.”

I could barely hear the voice above; the sound of gunshots muffled it. I glanced out from under the wall, and sure enough, my pistol did the job. A sparking heap of bolts and machinery lay before me. Smoke poured from the pile, and blurred my vision. Unstable and confused, I felt sheer pain cut through my left arm. I whirled around, to see yet another Songbird approaching.

Unsure how to aim my weapon, I dangerously swung it around, trying to hit my enemy.

Shots fired on and off, and when my vision cleared, the Songbird was gone. However, there was no satisfying pile of machinery to prove that I did in fact succeed in killing my enemy.

I guess I can’t worry about that now. I have to find out where I am… and who this voice is.

Taking another step forward, I investigated where I could possibly be, and where I had come from. My last memory was that of being burned alive… I remembered that I was sure I was going to die. No, in fact, I hadn’t a doubt.  After all, who could live through that? My whole body had been desecrated; I recalled the smell of my own burning flesh, before passing out. If I am truly alive, then, how do I have a working body? None of this nonsense adds up.