I am choosing to make this truly collaborative and not give this story a direction beyond the first page.
I force my eyes open. As I have so many times in the past, I wonder where the hell I am. My memory is such a tricky thing these days.
Oh sure, my days start out normal enough. I stumble out of whatever corner I lost consciousness in, and begin seeking a food source. On my lucky days, I am near a restaurant with freshly tossed food scraps.
Sometimes, I have to hunt my meal. Rats are actually fairly tasty, especially if they can be burnt over an open flame. Frogs, lizards, various birds, even a bat from time to time have all gone through my digestive track.
After a hearty meal, I find the freshest source of water available and endeavor to make myself presentable. I have found that people are much more willing to speak to me if my face is clean and my hair tamed.
Some days I am able to find temporary jobs. The money never lasts. Although I couldn’t swear to it, I assume I am using it to buy alcohol or narcotics. The problem is that towards evening my memory begins to slip away. By morning I no longer have any cash.
I no longer remember my name or how I came to be here. I am not even sure where here is. If I once knew, I no longer do.
In fact, the only thing I am sure of these days, is that I am hungry an awful lot and every morning finds me in a place where nothing is familiar.