saturday shorts
its about the yearning
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with...
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He wakes with a shuddering breath, air screaming into his lungs and his brain thumping against the inside of his skull. The first thing he registers is cold, the next a stiffness in his shoulders and back. He has to blink a few times to adjust, his eyes sticky and clumps of sleep dust holding his eyes together with delicate fingers. The world blurs, then shifts into focus but he takes a few more breaths before sitting up, his limbs slowly becoming aware of themselves.
His entire body seems to resist the movement and he sits up only to double forward, pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes as drills seem to strike at the temples of his skull. He doesn’t know how long he sits like that, frozen over like some statue immortalised in pain. When the pain draws back from gripping at his temples, he stands shakily, body tense as he waits for another wave to hit.
But it doesn’t.
He stands stiff, and looks around slowly. He’d been lying on concrete in a large stretching carpark that was utterly deserted.
whoareyou
There was a silhouette where he’d peeled himself off the ground, a patch of dry surrounded by dark splotchy wet. That explained the cold at least. He zipped up his jacket with fingers that felt like ice blocks, thick and clumsy. It took him a few times to get the zipper in and up. The tinny clicking of metal travelled farther than he thought it would, ringing through the barren concrete landscape around him. As he looked down, he spotted something on his wrist, a thick white band with thin black letters pasted across it. Bringing it up and closer, he read what was on it with a growing pit in his stomach. Connor Oh, 21.
Was that his name? He couldn’t tell, there was no recognition inside him, no visceral reaction to the name. And yet...it felt right. Connor. Connor Oh. That could be who he was.
He flipped the hood up and after a moment's hesitation, began to walk.
whereareyou
It was a city, but not one he had-Connor had ever seen before. High rise glassy buildings and peeling posters on grotty walls tended to look the same everywhere. The only unsettling thing was the quiet. It seemed to press down on his eardrums, wailing for attention with a voice it didn’t have. He kept his footsteps light, didn’t want to make any more sound than he had to. There wasn’t even a whistle of wind in the air.
There was a convenience store ahead, and he walked towards it, hands shoved into his pockets. Pushing at the door, it rang out sharply, and what was normally white noise made him jerk backwards, the sudden sound ringing through his skull and out into the city. It was passed from wall to wall, distorted in echoes, discordant and warped in a game of chinese whispers. He was prepared for it the second time, only wincing, but he still stopped just inside the door. Artificial light bathed the store and the shelves were stocked with chips, snacks, all the classic foods. Fridges whirred in the back and the heated cabinet buzzed and yet there was nobody at the counter. He was sure if he checked there would be nobody in the back.
He walked quicker, ran to the door that pushed into the bathrooms and slammed it open, suddenly desperate to see anyone, to find even a glimpse of human life.
It was silent.
He turned instead to the mirror and saw in it, himself. He realised vaguely, in the back of his head that he hadn’t known what he looked like. Stepping closer, he could see the panic trapped behind his glassy eyes, and searched his own face, speaking for the first time since he woke up.
“Who am I?”
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[div class="name show"]CONNOR OH.[/div]
[div class=info]mentions...
His entire body seems to resist the movement and he sits up only to double forward, pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes as drills seem to strike at the temples of his skull. He doesn’t know how long he sits like that, frozen over like some statue immortalised in pain. When the pain draws back from gripping at his temples, he stands shakily, body tense as he waits for another wave to hit.
But it doesn’t.
He stands stiff, and looks around slowly. He’d been lying on concrete in a large stretching carpark that was utterly deserted.
whoareyou
There was a silhouette where he’d peeled himself off the ground, a patch of dry surrounded by dark splotchy wet. That explained the cold at least. He zipped up his jacket with fingers that felt like ice blocks, thick and clumsy. It took him a few times to get the zipper in and up. The tinny clicking of metal travelled farther than he thought it would, ringing through the barren concrete landscape around him. As he looked down, he spotted something on his wrist, a thick white band with thin black letters pasted across it. Bringing it up and closer, he read what was on it with a growing pit in his stomach. Connor Oh, 21.
Was that his name? He couldn’t tell, there was no recognition inside him, no visceral reaction to the name. And yet...it felt right. Connor. Connor Oh. That could be who he was.
He flipped the hood up and after a moment's hesitation, began to walk.
whereareyou
It was a city, but not one he had-Connor had ever seen before. High rise glassy buildings and peeling posters on grotty walls tended to look the same everywhere. The only unsettling thing was the quiet. It seemed to press down on his eardrums, wailing for attention with a voice it didn’t have. He kept his footsteps light, didn’t want to make any more sound than he had to. There wasn’t even a whistle of wind in the air.
There was a convenience store ahead, and he walked towards it, hands shoved into his pockets. Pushing at the door, it rang out sharply, and what was normally white noise made him jerk backwards, the sudden sound ringing through his skull and out into the city. It was passed from wall to wall, distorted in echoes, discordant and warped in a game of chinese whispers. He was prepared for it the second time, only wincing, but he still stopped just inside the door. Artificial light bathed the store and the shelves were stocked with chips, snacks, all the classic foods. Fridges whirred in the back and the heated cabinet buzzed and yet there was nobody at the counter. He was sure if he checked there would be nobody in the back.
He walked quicker, ran to the door that pushed into the bathrooms and slammed it open, suddenly desperate to see anyone, to find even a glimpse of human life.
It was silent.
He turned instead to the mirror and saw in it, himself. He realised vaguely, in the back of his head that he hadn’t known what he looked like. Stepping closer, he could see the panic trapped behind his glassy eyes, and searched his own face, speaking for the first time since he woke up.
“Who am I?”
with...
tags...[/div] [/div]
coded by shadyace
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