Four Kingdoms, The
Light dances before your eyes. Your head is spinning. You are hostage in an abstract world, a world of color. Suddenly, reality hits you and you lie awake. You've been dreaming, but for how long? You remember voices. Familiar voices. You try to hold onto them but they disappear. Within minutes, your memory is gone. You cannot remember who you were, or who you are. How did you get here?
You lie in the middle of a forest that extends far and wide. You turn in all directions, searching for a path, an exit. None can be seen. Fear should be your primal instinct, but you feel none. Perhaps you have forgotten it along with your identity, or perhaps it is buried within you. It is not your main thought, however, as you ponder what to do next. The thought of your very self, your very identity, being taken seems like it would take more of a toll, but you have no recollection of your identity whatsoever. Maybe you don't want to know who you were, maybe you don't want to remember. Even these thoughts should give you some idea of the kind of person you were, your logical personality, but were you always like this, or have you been forced to adapt by the situation? That, you decide, is the question. The answer will be all but impossible to find. How, you think to yourself. How did I get here? For all you know, you may have come to the forest by choice. You do at least remember what a forest is.
Scanning the area, you pace back and forth, as if waiting expectantly. What is to come? You've been given a new start, and perhaps you are to take advantage of it. It won't do you any good just standing around. You've got to do something, to make something of your situation. Perhaps you are carrying an answer with you, you think. Reaching into your left pocket, you find five separate dollar-bills, clear and crisp, as well as a map neatly folded. You unfold it to see a drawing of the cabin and a few landmarks around it. It would make sense to say the map is of the forest, but other than the cabin, nothing is familiar. At least you were a neat person, you think to yourself. It would be a bit of a letdown to learn you were a slob.
You put the bills and map back into your pocket and take note of the time. Judging by the position of the sun, it's about 11:00 at night, a good time to be asleep. Maybe that's what happened, but it wouldn't explain why your memory is gone. Amnesia, you think to yourself. A funny sort of thing. It's too bad everything has to be this way. You'd rather be home, assuming you have a home. Remembering your original intent, you check your right pocket and pull out what looks like an old-fashioned key. Unlike the dollar-bills, it it's covered in rust and has what appears to be a symbol engraved in it. You study the design and see a leopard with four wings and four heads. Probably some sort of creature from greek mythology, you think. If only you had payed more attention in history class.
Putting the key in your pocket, you take note of your surroundings. The ground is wet, as if it just rained. So is your hair. To your right is a log cabin, seemingly abandoned. It's still standing, so if there was a storm, it wasn't too big. It looks as if someone tore it apart and put it back together again. Some pieces seem out of place, and it seems to be built on a slant. It wouldn't hurt to take a look, but you don't think you'd mind if you ran away and never saw it again. Part of you wants to tear it down for the public good. Then again, it looks nice and homely compared to the forest floor. You hear a groaning noise in the distance you don't think the living are capable of making, and you suddenly want to crawl inside the cabin and hide. Suddenly, you feel something inside you light up. Where's your sense of adventure? Do you want to die, always worrying about how you're going to survive the next day? Toughen up, you tell yourself. You haven't suffered a mental breakdown yet, so you're off to a good start. You ask yourself, if you only have a day to live, what do you want to be doing?
You lie in the middle of a forest that extends far and wide. You turn in all directions, searching for a path, an exit. None can be seen. Fear should be your primal instinct, but you feel none. Perhaps you have forgotten it along with your identity, or perhaps it is buried within you. It is not your main thought, however, as you ponder what to do next. The thought of your very self, your very identity, being taken seems like it would take more of a toll, but you have no recollection of your identity whatsoever. Maybe you don't want to know who you were, maybe you don't want to remember. Even these thoughts should give you some idea of the kind of person you were, your logical personality, but were you always like this, or have you been forced to adapt by the situation? That, you decide, is the question. The answer will be all but impossible to find. How, you think to yourself. How did I get here? For all you know, you may have come to the forest by choice. You do at least remember what a forest is.
Scanning the area, you pace back and forth, as if waiting expectantly. What is to come? You've been given a new start, and perhaps you are to take advantage of it. It won't do you any good just standing around. You've got to do something, to make something of your situation. Perhaps you are carrying an answer with you, you think. Reaching into your left pocket, you find five separate dollar-bills, clear and crisp, as well as a map neatly folded. You unfold it to see a drawing of the cabin and a few landmarks around it. It would make sense to say the map is of the forest, but other than the cabin, nothing is familiar. At least you were a neat person, you think to yourself. It would be a bit of a letdown to learn you were a slob.
You put the bills and map back into your pocket and take note of the time. Judging by the position of the sun, it's about 11:00 at night, a good time to be asleep. Maybe that's what happened, but it wouldn't explain why your memory is gone. Amnesia, you think to yourself. A funny sort of thing. It's too bad everything has to be this way. You'd rather be home, assuming you have a home. Remembering your original intent, you check your right pocket and pull out what looks like an old-fashioned key. Unlike the dollar-bills, it it's covered in rust and has what appears to be a symbol engraved in it. You study the design and see a leopard with four wings and four heads. Probably some sort of creature from greek mythology, you think. If only you had payed more attention in history class.
Putting the key in your pocket, you take note of your surroundings. The ground is wet, as if it just rained. So is your hair. To your right is a log cabin, seemingly abandoned. It's still standing, so if there was a storm, it wasn't too big. It looks as if someone tore it apart and put it back together again. Some pieces seem out of place, and it seems to be built on a slant. It wouldn't hurt to take a look, but you don't think you'd mind if you ran away and never saw it again. Part of you wants to tear it down for the public good. Then again, it looks nice and homely compared to the forest floor. You hear a groaning noise in the distance you don't think the living are capable of making, and you suddenly want to crawl inside the cabin and hide. Suddenly, you feel something inside you light up. Where's your sense of adventure? Do you want to die, always worrying about how you're going to survive the next day? Toughen up, you tell yourself. You haven't suffered a mental breakdown yet, so you're off to a good start. You ask yourself, if you only have a day to live, what do you want to be doing?