At the beginning of a journey, no one knows what to expect. But that is the beauty of it all. You never really know what will happen until it's over.
The past transgressions of my life does not matter now, All that truly matters is the present moment.
She spoke within the realm of her thoughts; her eyes were closed, seemingly waking up from a long dream. The surface upon which she laid was rather cold and rough, like aged wood riddled with splinters and holes. Yet, she remained still on the ground, slowly waking up from what felt like a deep slumber.
Drops of water fell upon her cheek, followed by the sound of rough pitter-patters from above. Her eyes weakly opened. It was blurry at first, but after a few gentle blinks, she found herself gazing up at a worn and leaky ceiling that was barely held together- near the edge of collapse.
A sudden bright flash of lightning cracked through the gloom stricken skies, blinding the scene with piercing white shorter than a moment's whipser. Torrential rains continued to pour and beat upon the weathered roof of a home on its last knees.
Sluggishly, she sat herself up, while wiping her face with the back of her hand like an instant relfex. Rain continued to rush in from the broken windows and torn ceiling, along with the windy shrieks of gales. The coldness of the rain alone shocked her into a clearer state of mind. Although her awareness sharpened, her memory remained in the dark.
Her name was Tsunami, but that was all that she could conjure in the depths of her fragmented memory. From one side of the room to the next, she examined her surroundings, but the ghastly decor and abandoned styled home did not ring any bells.
"Where am I?" She spoke softly to herself, hoping that the empty room would not answer her back.
With a little more energy and umph, she stood up energetically— though, she nearly lost her balance in the process. The ground was slippery as it was wet. Luckily, she caught herself on an old and emptied dresser. Her body was weakened, a tad numb, but she was aware that her strength was gradually returning.
From the dresser, she pushed off lightly and walked towards the door of the room. The door itself was hanging off its hinges and random debris had piled up against it over time. This place seemed aged and was long since kept.
On the way towards the door, she saw remnants of a mirror hanging against the wall. It was shattered, but still intact. Before proceeding out the room, she took a minute or so to gaze into the reflection, as if seeing herself for the first time.
She was dressed in attire that also seemed worn out from age. The colors had faded into a bland beige and the fabric was frail and delicate- a hauntingly relating feature she shared with this place. Her attention shifted to her hair—silvery blue lockes draped loosely over her shoulders and down past her hips. She then caught a hold of her gaze, taking in the vibrant hue of the turquoise- reminding her of the calmness of the sea.
The sea? She could not smell the scent of the ocean, rather, this place was plagued with a pungent smell of old and rot. The walls and floorboards were dampened with mold and shrooms. The decay of the home made each step more fragile than the next.
It was difficult to comprehend her situation in the midst of a storm, so she thought it best to find a better and more sheltered portion of the house.
(—Con).
