Life in the key of g

Waking is a pleasure: it means I'm not dead.

Waking is an agony: I hurt all down my spine and along my legs.

Waking is harder than I'm used to.  So is breathing.

I try to sit up, and it's much harder than I expect.  It feels like the air around me has thickened to the viscosity of treacle, and everything I do is slower and needs more effort.  I can feel the muscles of my abdomen working, and when I'm finally sat up, I'm grateful that I've spent so long playing sports.

This must be the Noman continent then, I can remember seeing it drawing closer, and then a sense of weightlessness, and then... no, everything's a blank after that.  It's as though I went from there to here with no in-between.  I don't much like that thought.

Looking around me I can see a craggy landscape.  There's a lot of bare rock, mostly as hills and mountains.  In the valleys, and where I'm sitting, there's some vegetation but it's dark-green or brown and doesn't grow any taller than a couple of inches.  It must the gravity, the plants must not be able to support themselves beyond this height.

No trees then.

Turning my head, I can see what looks like bones off to my right and slightly behind me, and beyond that, there's wreckage of some kind.  I think it looks like brick walls that have fallen, and maybe wooden beams.  It must have come here from somewhere else though, no trees means no wood.  It might be a good place to start looking for food though.

I get to my feet by getting my feet under me and pushing up like I'm deadlifting, and then I struggle towards the wreckage.  It's not quite so bad once I start moving, but it's still a bit like swimming.  I skirt the bones for now, and I know I'm a coward for doing so, but if they didn't die of natural causes then I'm probably in a lot of trouble.

By the time I reach the house I'm sweating like a... well, that's not a very nice phrase.  I'm also breathing heavily and feel like I've been running for an hour to get here.  The wreckage is that of a house though, and I'm really pleased to see that it's not mine.  I studied engineering for a while, but I still can't tell if the house fell here or was built here and then collapsed.

I've just found what looks like a broken full-length mirror with some wickedly glinting shards of glass as long as my arm when I hear a growl begin, somewhere on the other side of the wreckage.  I look up, and then up a bit further, and there on top of a mound of bricks and cement is an ugly, flattened looking creature with tuft of hair dotted over mottled skin.  It looks like it has mange, but its eyes are bright and purple and too large for its squat, flat skull like that of a toad.  Its teeth, bared in a snarl, are sharp and, like a shark, it looks like it's got several rows of them.

It leaps, six short, thickly muscled legs propelling it into the air.


The End

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