Ye Olde Rewrite

Chapter 1; New Beginnings

     Once again, my consciousness arose as I lay on my back, unable to feel properly with a lack of sight. Even trying to open my eyes sent waves of pain throughout my face, so I decided to keep it simple and leave them closed. Though, the soft feeling under my head and body left me wondering exactly what I laid on. As my senses returned to me, I heard what sounded like words between a man and a woman being exchanged, but I couldn't make out what was being said. Shifting my body, I lifted a hand to feel my face. Despite the numb feeling giving me little feedback, the conversation between the other two ceased, followed by a moment of silence. The next words were spoken by the woman, words that carried a tone of a happier nature, perhaps hope, happiness, or relief. The man added to what she said, with my hearing slowly returning. There was shuffling of feet, with the two seemingly having moved to be on either side of me. I dragged my hand down along my face before resting it on my belly. More words were spoken by the man, and I believe I had heard what he said.

     "Are you awake now, young man?" He would ask, his voice mature, yet gentle. The only response I could muster was a grunt, unsure if I could even move my lips, let alone speak. The woman would add her thoughts, her voice younger, and far more forceful than his.

     "Seems like he's awake, just not fully there."

     The man let out a sigh at the woman's remark, after all, it was mostly true. Soft hands, ones that were rather cold, gently gripped my own. I could feel the bones in his fingers and palms, leaving me to believe the man was rather old. He would tell me, "Young man, squeeze your hand." I was able to do that, so I did as instructed, tightening my grip for just a brief moment.

     "Good, good... You can understand me. I ask of you to answer a few simple questions. Just answer them yes or no. Squeeze my hand once for no, twice for yes. Do you understand?" With two weak squeezes, I would be on my way to recovery.

     "Can you open your eyes?" One squeeze.

     "Do you know where you are?" One squeeze.

     "Do you know how you came to be out there?" One squeeze.

     "Do you know your own name?" One squeeze.

     "How many people did you hear in this room? Squeeze my hand for each voice you heard." Two squeezes.

      He fell silent, gently releasing my hand and placing it on my chest. I would pay close attention to the rising and falling of my chest, making sure I was inhaling deep, before exhaling to empty my lungs the most I could. Despite a minor stabbing pain when I would start to breathe in, I would continue to do such. After a few moments of this, I would hear the man's voice again.

     "Young man, my friend here is a kind hearted young lady. She is the one who found you outside of town, and is the same one who brought you here. I feel like she should be the one to help you restore your health." From there, a woman's voice picked up right where the man had left off.

     "Yeah, and try not to get another faceful of clay? I'm gonna help you drink this little vial, don't spit it out. It may taste kinda funny, but you'll be as right as rain after. Gimme a sign you understand, yeah?"

     I didn't quite know how to respond, after all, what did she want to see? Despite drawing blank for any way of showing I understood, my hand unconsciously formed a fist, sticking my thumb outwards in the process. This small gesture, one I didn't even realize I performed, was something she was looking for. The woman would gently slide her hand under my head, a hand that was far more coarse and hard-worked than the man's, yet more slender and feminine. Another brief moment of silence followed, broken by her thanking whom I assumed was the man. She would prop up my head as I felt cold glass press against my lips, and a warm liquid pour into my mouth. The drink was short, but filled with an indescribably sweet flavor. However, the taste it left after I swallowed was reminiscent of salted peanuts, far too dry and awkward for the taste that had preceded it. Despite this, vigor and life seemed to return to my body, the pangs of pain that wracked my body ceased, and my senses came flooding back to me. I could smell dust and books before anything else, soon followed by a disgustingly sweet scent that overpowered my nose for naught but a moment. As I opened my eyes, I found myself gazing up at the ceiling, with the source of the voices on both sides of me. The left, the voice of the man, was an older gentleman with gentle blue eyes. Despite being bald on his head, his snow white beard was rather impressive, reaching to the middle of his chest. His choice of clothing was a stark contrast to his complexion - a royal purple set of lengthy robes full of noble vigor. With his almost unreal purple robes and skin almost as pale as his colorless beard, I would have easily been convinced that I had died, save for the woman across from him. Emerald hues gazed down at me, sharp and alive. Above that, her hair was a long, well braided chestnut brown, a similar color to her lightly tanned skin. She wore simple clothing, what seemed like an oak colored linen shirt under a black apron. The woman would interrupt my moment of taking in information with a gentle pat on the cheek, coupled with, "Try to speak."