Open Wound

Chapter Four

I groaned as I lifted myself from cold, grungy tiles. My head filled with pressure and motion sickness threatened to empty my stomach if I'd had anything in it. As my vision became clear, I stumbled to stand and looked around.

The walls were off-white with age, and a light bulb was just bright enough to illuminate a stairway to my right. Looking forward, an archway stood beside a small white wooden door, and what lay beyond was quite dark. The room was mostly empty, save for a musty rug by the front door.

I approached a window and slid ratty lace curtains aside. A deep orange light bled into the room, painting my pale face with warmth. The sun was setting behind a small broken town in the distance, and the large cavities in the walls revealed whatever had been inside them. A long and winding path led from a small fenced-in yard to the town, and a swing set with one broken seat sat out front with a gathering of weeds.

I took a deep breath and sloshed as I moved in my sneakers. Drenched with sea water still, I tried the front door and it creaked open. I stood on the porch to take in the orange sky and the setting sun. Any semblance of a breeze was absent and all was silent, save for the distant swishing that didn't move the trees or clouds. No insects flew about, nor was there a sign of any animal in existence. I turned to the swing set and dropped onto the single intact seat.

It was strange, but I felt like I'd been there before. There was also the looming dread that I shouldn't be there at all, and it settled in my bones in a way that brought back the cold from the void. A deep melancholy blanketed me with comfort, and I looked into the distance with heavy eyes. It appeared that no one was outside amongst the broken buildings, nor did there seem to be any sign of life. And the house I'd just left — it was such a strange place for it to be all on its own as if it was displaced. Like everything was patched together at the last moment, or from a dream that tried to recreate some semblance of human existence, but it merely warped it as dreams often do.

I left the yard and ventured down the path. It became clear that I was there to stay, wherever it may have been. It certainly felt old and stale, like moldy bread. It smelled just as musty as my favorite pillow when I was...

When I was... a child? No, false memories.

I broke into a jog as I followed the path into the town. I looked into the broken floors to see a few black mannequins standing before a bookcase or a quiet television. A few more stood frozen before a vendor that appeared to sell skateboards and oversized t-shirts, and they were all dressed in styles I hadn't seen in years. I approached a male mannequin that wore black track pants and a red long-sleeved tee. I grabbed the clothes and noticed the figure's anatomy, growing uneasy as I reached out to touch its face.

Skin. It felt like dry skin.

Ijerked back after venturing to the thing's mouth. There was no mistaking it. Ithad once been human.