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What Am I
Author:
Moroni of the Mount of Ro PM
I don't feel right. There's something wrong. Will I figure it out in time?
Rated: Fiction K+ - English - Angst/Drama - Words: 398 - Reviews: 2 - Published: 04-30-06 - id: 2164742
A+  A-   Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten

What am I …

I'm wandering slowly down the street, only dimly aware of the drizzle and the cold. I don't feel right ... Though I can't explain exactly why. The wind blows my hair into my face, and I move my hand up to brush it away. My perception seems slower that my actions, and I finish the movement a second before I finish processing it in my mind.

With each turn of my head, a wave of dizziness washes over me, and I have to fight to remember who I am, where I am, and –

What ... I am doing.

I stumble slightly and the question exits my consciousness as I regain my balance, the dizziness washing over me again.

I move my eyes back and forth, scanning the landscape in front of me, and I realize that my brain takes a bit longer to catch up to my eyes, and just looking around reminds me of playing a computer game with bad graphics.

I feel strangely removed from my body, and I'm sure I should be more worried about my strange condition, but somehow I'm not.

I see a purple flower on the street, but as I bend down to pick it up, it disappears. I look behind me down the street, expecting to see it blowing in the wind, but nothing is there.

Am I hallucinating?

I begin to ponder the question, but the thought is slippery, and it slips out of my mind quickly, just as the earthworm I am holding in my hand slips through between my fingers.

I was holding an earthworm. I don't remember picking it up.

I stand up again, growing accustomed to the dizziness, and I keep walking, knowing it will pass.

This time it doesn't.

Something is wrong. I should be scared, but I'm not. My pace slows as I begin to wonder. Who am I? Where am I?

What ... am I doing?

I begin to fall forward, the dizziness overwhelming me.

I don't feel myself hit the pavement. I don't hear the sound of my body cracking against the concrete. I don't see the blood mingle with the rainwater as it flows down the street into the gutter.

I wonder if I'll remember when I wake up: who am I? Where am I?

What ... am I doing?

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