Matheson gazed out over the harsh, sunlit landscape blankly, slowly becoming aware that something was terribly wrong; or if not wrong, then different.
Where am I? He scanned from left to right, seeing only an unbroken ribbon of sand and water threading its way along the shore, giving ways to masses of trees and grassy cliffs jutting up from the ground. He could swear the land was…almost dropping into place as he watched, but it was happening so fast, and he was so dazed, he paid that thought little mind.
Am I camping? He cast around at his feet. Nothing there, no tent, no tracks, no backpack. Only empty sand. He scratched his head.
He couldn’t remember anything. He had no idea how he got where he was- actually, he realized, he couldn’t remember hardly anything. There were flashes of something before this, but they were muddy and faded- a woman in a blue dress laughing, a stick of cotton candy, the smell of cut grass, rain stinging his face in a grey-tinged city. Then, he was here.
Even those ‘memories’ were remote and far away, so distant in fact, that his inability to remember them hardly bothered him. He felt, deep down, that there was something terribly wrong with that fact, and with his present situation, but with no history to compare it to he simply accepted his situation and moved on.
Perhaps there were other people out there, who could tell him what was going on? He took a few bold steps forward, then quickly turned back around and scooped several great handfuls of sand out of the very spot he had woken up on.
This spot, he reckoned, might have some special significance. In fact, he felt a certain kind of destiny worked into the ground there, as if it was a place he might want to see again.
This spot, he reckoned, might have some special significance. In fact, he felt a certain kind of destiny worked into the ground there, as if it was a place he might want to see again.
Satisfied that the spot was marked, he turned back around and strode off into the unknown.
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