Copyright 2011 bookgirl07


That was her first thought. Her first memory. Cold.

The next had to something to do with the rocks in her boots. And the one after that was the steady pain that coursed through her head. The rest was a blur.

There was no sun or moon or any source of light in this strange place, although the girl could somehow still see quite clearly. There was no wind either. No mist or fog. No smells.

Absolutely nothing but her and the collapsing structures around her.

Her midsection filled and emptied of it's own accord at a steady rhythm. The hole in her face seemed to have something to do with that. The air flowed in and out of it in a steady stream.

A wisp of silver- blonde string floated into her line of sight and she exhaled strongly, blowing it away- only to find it floating back.

Upon further inspection, the string was attached to her head, along with many other strands of the same glimmering material. It hurt to pull them out- she winced as she yanked at them.

The girl gave up on removing the annoying head- strings and focused elsewhere. She moved a strange protruding limb experimentally. It shook violently and she was breathing heavily with the effort of lifting it. It seemed to be attached to her in the same manner as the strange strands on her head, though she somehow knew this wouldn't be removed as easily.

A soft cloth covered parts of her body- doing nothing to keep her warm. She studied the cloth closely. There were strings, thicker than the ones on her head, woven together to form a sleeve that the limbs far below her head slid into perfectly. And on her midsection, there was a cloth with three holes. One for the hunk of flesh her head was standing on, and two more for the other limbs, that were much like the ones with the boots on them.

She struggled to sit up, grunting and then gasping in surprise at the noise. She tried it again, and puzzled at the sound. Again, and again she grunted until all thoughts of sitting up had been forgotten.

She found that she could achieve a wide range of pitches. High grunts or low ones. Loud or soft. Long or short.

She then began to make different sounds. This exercise stopped when she made a particularly loud sound that made her head pound and her fingers twitch.

The girl's eyes eventually drooped closed and her last thought was, Where am I going? It's all black.