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”Fragments”, ”plasma”, ”creature”. Once I was dedicated to ”chaos”, but it wasn’t mine.

Some dream of a new tomorrow, I dream of surviving today.

Air was swooshing and carrying the murmurs of nature that traveled long ways and into his buzzing skull. Looking at his hands, scarred to the bone, very delicate, Kyle tries to remember, pushing himself up from the grounds. He looked at himself more closely: torn out clothing, scars on his arms, a split lip, black eye. Simply, he thinks, I am a mess. The grass, he noticed while walking aimlessly in the meadow, was a dull yellow, in which signifies the end of fall. The smell is intoxicating, a mixture of pomegranate and dragon fruit that fills his nose with every ragged breath. “In and out, in and out”, he murmurs to himself. With shivers down his spine, he turns around, surveying the place. Downhill is the lake, the little apple tree, the huge rock that shone on the sun. He could picture it from memory and here lies the real thing. Kyle frowns a little, kneeling on the ground. The memory is mistaken; it should be, because what he feels is oddly at peace. But everything is a faded color, a little less of what it used to be. Suddenly an earsplitting screech made its way into the meadow, provoking his vision to become red with an irrational fury, animalistic in nature. He feels disoriented. He scrambled about as he tries to regain his balance, checking that the ground haven’t moved or turned upside down while he was unconscious. What lies before him now was not a dull patch of grass but a dark figure on the ground. Uncomprehending, his chest tightens and his breath catches, releasing a sob. With tears Kyle ran towards the body, so lifelessly, so battered, almost unrecognizable. Suddenly, as he reached for the body, a fierce pain flashed into his skull. He could still see the red strands of hair.