𝚕𝚞𝚌𝚒𝚏𝚎𝚛'𝚜 𝚍𝚊𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐 [𝙸]

o n e

|One|

⑉

I felt like I was awake in a repose. Time was unmoving, dull and slow. Each minute dribbled by like a gentle blob of rain water, travelling down a moving car window in the misleading mist. You would watch intensely, waiting for one droplet to fall and hit the bottom of the window before seeping down into the gap, only it never came - the water would drool in the wrong direction, stop and stay there attached to the cold glass.

I appeared to be stuck, refrained from moving in my cocoon of confusion. The walls around me were thick like mud, unbreakable like iron and a vacuum of the unknown. No answers were presented or handed out on crisp white sheets of a4. No snippet of knowledge slipped past the Archangels lips.

I was the caterpillar. And I was waiting. Waiting for the moment when my cocoon would crack, sunlight would bask in and, the empty shell surrounding me would swell with answers.

Three weeks had passed. I trudged along, hiking through the unforgiving mud. Nothing had unveiled. My memories were yet to reveal themselves.

my memories were gone. He had suggested that I give up and that my memories not resurfacing was a golden hint to which I should relish in and move on. Forget about the past and live in the present, was what Raphael had mentioned the third time I had asked. It grew into his default response. He was like an automated being, dishing out the selected answer programmed into him.

I felt neglected. My mind came up blank. Where could I possibly get more information other than from Raphael? You see, I couldn't help but notice that every time I asked Raphael to tell me something, anything about my fall, a grey cloud of guilt would drift into his brilliant blue eyes and

Every time.

Today was the same. Seconds slipped into ever-lasting minutes as I sat on the creamy white sofa in the open-plan front room, waiting for the Fates to deliver my destiny.

This room, similar to the others in the Dome as I had come to know it, was large with unscathed white walls, potted plants and odd smooth-edged crystals. The soft sunlight emitting from open glass windows drifted over the furniture, catching the occasional shimmering gem and in return spattered an array of translucent polka dots over the walls. I sat relatively still, bathing in a wave of tranquillity that the front room provided. I felt at peace. Perhaps it was the crystals. Maybe they did extinguish any bad omen.

Across the room of white, was a tall curved archway - thin panels of marble scooted down the walls, enwrapped in silver fairy lights, all while adding to the soothing vibe the Dome engulfed.