I started a new story today about a guy lost in a dark place where there are mountains of trash everywhere. He has lost his memory completely. I’m not sure where this is going but I think I might see if I can find somewhere other than this blog to post it online. Here is the first chunk of it.
It has to start somewhere…
I have no idea where I am, and I don’t know what day it is. I could guess at how much time has passed since I arrived here, but other than that, I’m lost.
It was January, I think. The 8th sounds about right to me, but I’m not sure.
I’m trying to write down everything that has happened so far, otherwise this isn’t going to make any sense to anyone but myself, if it even makes sense at all. Not that I’m expecting anyone else to read this, but you never know, do you?
Do I fill in the previous days with notes, or put it all in today’s entry?
I settled on the latter. Thought it would seem disjointed, otherwise.
So here we go, I guess.
Two days ago
I remember coming round. It was dark, very dark. I could vaguely make out some shapes around me, but not much else. I was lying on something uncomfortable, or several things. It all seemed to shift and collapse under my weight. My head hurt, and I knew that there were bruises all over me. I could feel them. How I got them, I have no idea.
It took a while to get over the initial panic. I scrambled around blindly, trying to find something solid in the mass of crap that was shifting underneath me. I clumsily cracked my knee on something hard and metal. It was large, maybe the size of a microwave or a television, but it was difficult to tell what it was in the dark. I nearly screamed as the agony seemed to shoot round my whole body, which was already aching from the mysterious bruises. In the end, I lay there for a long time, trying desperately to stay as still as possible, rolled up in a ball and gritting my teeth, waiting for the pain to abate.
I felt my pockets, but my cigarette lighter was nowhere to be found. The only damn source of light available to me, and it had gone. I did find cigarettes, wallet, car keys, a pen, and a packet of mints, but no lighter and no mobile phone. I tried to search the ground around me, stumbling over whatever all the stuff was, but that turned up nothing. I’m certain I had a lighter and a phone.
My hands were cold and numb, although the place didn’t feel that cold. There was air coming from somewhere, a breeze with a chill to it that smelt musty, mouldy, rank and somehow old.