A girl, maybe seventeen and a day, wakes up on the floor of an unfamiliar building. It’s dark, and smells musty. She has no recollection of getting there. She has no recollection. No recollection of anything.
Who is she?
Where is she?
Why is she?
Nothing.
It’s almost as if
She
Doesn’t








Even

























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x





























i


























s

























t


Her hands shake as she stands up, starting at the white blonde hair that falls to her waist. The world spins violently, whirling around and around fasterfasterfaster. She closes her eyes tightly, trying to block it out. It just seems like it’s trying even harder to fling her off completely.
She falls to her knees, barely feeling the sharp pain that radiates up her legs. She turns her head and vomits, sweat running in to her eyes. She gags and heaves everything in her stomach onto the dirty ground.
Everything hurts, her heart racing, palms sweaty, breath coming in heaving gasps. Her stomach continues to clench in terror. There’s an invisible edge in the air, like at any time something horrible will happen. The room comes to focus in flashes. Red seats. Littered floor. Smell of must and mothballs. Shattered screen, oozing with dark liquid. A movie theater.
She tries again to stand, falling into the wall when the room tips on its axis, still trying to fling her off. It’s almost as if the earth knows that she doesn’t belong on it. Tears are now running down her pale face as she desperately tries to steady herself. Everything swims in and out of focus. Sobs are ripping from her chest. She hears laughing, crazed laughing, somewhere near her.
Crying out, she fights the dizziness and flees, stumbling the whole way.
The smell outside is almost unbearable. Like rotting flesh and sulfur and burnt hair. Mangled car parts and former street signs litter the ground. The sun looks lazy, like it’s picked itself up and spilled across the sky, only just bright enough to produce a dull grey glow over the world. Every building is empty and crumbling, wind howling through the shattered windows.
As she walks forward, it seems as if each step lifts a weight off her shoulders. It gets warmer, and the feeling of dread begins to fade away. The breeze pushes her long hair away from her face and pinks up her pale cheeks. In fact, she has no clue, but she looks very beautiful at this moment. Blonde hair fanned across her shoulders, blue eyes sparkling under long lashes, pink cheeks the color of rose petals on porcelain.
In the distance, she sees a wall, and feels an immediate and overwhelming desire to go to it. She can see the golden sunshine just over the wall, and the delicate butterflies fluttering in the warm glow. She tilts her face up slightly, feeling relaxation begin to settle deep in her bones.
As she grows closer to the wall she can see how intricate it is, and quite lovely as well. It’s made of what appears to be aged stone, possibly medieval. It’s also laced with emerald green ivy, like something out of a storybook, something you’d expect a fairy to fly up to and land on. The feeling of peace grows deeper, blooming in her soul.
She has the distinct feeling that this is exactly where she’s supposed to be. When she reaches the wall, she doesn’t even hesitate to climb it. She easily scales it and comes to sit at the top, the golden sunshine warming her face, painting an array of different colors in her pretty hair.
As she sits and watches the butterflies play, absolute serenity wraps itself around her like a familiar old blanket, full of promise. She knows she has to jump to get to the other side, but can’t bring herself to do anything except simply admire the beauty. The soft green grass, gently swaying in the wind, the blush pink butterflies fluttering about, the puffy white clouds scattered across the sky. Whatever inside her was broken seems to begin to fix itself, for she vaguely recalls this being her very favorite time of day.
Yes, the time right before the sun begins to show the very first signs of setting and creates a golden halo on your head and time seems to stop. When time seems infinite. Like there’s nothing stopping you. Like anything could happen. Like there’s still hope.
Chewing on her lip, she briefly contemplates the distance from the top of the wall to the ground. But the other side is so promising, like nothing could ever hurt. Like you can do anything on that side. Like you can be free.
So she jumps.
And the last thing she sees before she jumps is the ground fade to black and begin to move, like a million tiny worms wriggling around, trying to escape. And the last thing she hears before she jumps is crazed laughter and a menacing voice whisper
“It’s not your time...”



Then,


n
o
t
h
i
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g










A girl, maybe seventeen and a day, wakes up on the floor of an unfamiliar building. It’s dark, and smells musty. She has no recollection of getting there. She has no recollection. No recollection of anything.
Who is she?
Where is she?
Why is she?
Nothing.
It’s almost as if
She
Doesn't

even

exist.