Wiosna

Prologue - Part 1: Quality Over Quantity

The cover of the book was rather simple.

A sky turned 90 degrees clockwise—you'd have to view the book horizontally to see it in its entirety. There wasn't really much to look at. There was a katana slanting across the paperback cover. Under it, the word "Wiosna" was printed. It was printed in a font that I couldn't tell whether the illustrator wanted it to look like that, or just did a very poor job with the graphics.

       The cover overall was rather lacking in detail, and it seemed too simple. Something you could expect to be made out of a basic paint program on the computer. I would judge it for being so plain, as I'm sure everyone else would, yet there was a serenity in its quiet picture. There was no author on the book which seemed odd at first until I remembered most older books didn't have authors on the front cover. 

        It was a paperback book, which intrigued me despite my preference in hardcover books. It would put this book to shame to regard it as low-quality. Its charm comes from how you interpret the image. I guess I chose to give it the benefit of the doubt.  There was no price on the book so I took it up to the front counter to the store clerk. He looked to be about in his 30's with short, black hair. I asked him the price and he saw the book, explaining there was no price tag. He looked a tad confused as he looked it up on his internet catalog. The clerk wasn't able to find the book and just simply said I could have it, since he regarded it as cheap and uninteresting based on the design of the cover.

        I take the book home, and I sit down on my bed in my bedroom, thinking about what the book could be. I neglected to read it on the train home from the store—glancing at my alarm clock I saw it was 3:00PM and I kind of felt like the atmosphere was perfect for what the novel seemed to be. The book seemed to be mysterious. Not that it was a mystery novel, just that it had some sort of history behind it that has since then been lost. Even though I neglected it on the train, I wanted to read it, but when I got to my house. While the circumstances in which I obtained the book were quite skeptical, the book gave off no vibe of being anything you'd find to be a cliche in a horror novel. The book almost covered its surroundings with a quiet, peaceful atmosphere. The sky that cloaked the outside of the book made everything seem vast and distant. You could say the book knew its characteristics.

        As I think about the book, I look across my room. It doesn't have much in it, which makes it seem pretty large. It has two windows, covered by curtains at most times. I'm kind of a hermit. My bed is against one wall, with a night stand that has a lamp and my alarm clock on it and some books I haven't gotten to read yet. Across the room lays my desk, which is professional-looking due to its black paintjob. It's not metal or anything, it's made out of wood. It has my computer, some writing supplies, and a rolling desk chair that every desk of the sort needs. I have a television on a stand near the foot of my bed, though I never use it. When I was younger, I guess I was always playing the new Nintendo consoles my mom would buy for me on special occasions and holidays. Now it mostly collects dust as I keep it for imaginary nostalgic reasons.

        I see a note on the bed I hadn't taken notice to before. It read,

        "Lance, I will be working late tonight. I will be home around 8:00PM. I'll see you tonight. -Mom"

        My mom didn't used to do this. Sometimes she would text me or call me if she needed to contact me about work. Though, it is nice having a firm reminder that technology isn't always necessary when it comes to communication. That's how I feel about books, too. Anyway, my mom used to not think too much if she had to work late, it was normal for her. She's taken time off since my incident.

        Three months ago I was diagnosed with amnesia. My parents were worried out of their minds about the whole situation. The cause of my amnesia was apparently stress. Of course, due to my nature, I never let anyone know about my problems. That made me kick myself when I found out I had a panic attack which caused me to black out—I was in a coma for about a month, and my doctor thought I had a mental illness. Many people know what amnesia is, but are unaware of what the effects can lead to.

        I haven't completely regained my memory—I'd say only maybe 40% of it—so a lot of things I still don't understand...or remember, rather. Doctors haven't diagnosed me with anything other than amnesia. All of their tests for mental illnesses have come out negative, and according to them I seemed pretty sane when I first woke up again. Of course, it wasn't easy to answer questions I didn't know the answer to. It took a while to re-learn some of my past thoughts and morals.