Monday 26/08/2013, 00:13
I wake up, at least, I think I do. The darkened beachside cave makes it hard to distinguish what is real and what is fantasy. I pick up a sharp rock nearby, half wet from the seas lashing out their vengeance on the land, and thrust it forcefully into the palm of my hand. It hurts, at least, I think it does. Could fantasy be playing a practical joke on me? I see lights moving amongst the walls at one end of the cave. I'd best flee, so as not to have an accident. As I leave through the entrance of the cave, I stumble upon a pocket knife, with the numbers 8, 26 and 13 on it. I toss it frantically into my pocket, and race into the darkness lit by the sole glowing orb.
The beach explodes with sound from the tepid swooshing of my feet through the water's edge. Dare I run along the beach instead, and I fear leaving footprints for "them" to follow me. My exact place can't be known, "they" can't find me, "they" can't see me, again. As I continue to race along the edge of the beach, I see a blackened shadow and two glowing orbs protruding in the distance. Oh no, they're here too, not again. I race out of the water, sneaking into the forested area nearby. Should they spot my path, I have little chance of escaping. Is any of this real? I am unsure. If they find me, then it won't matter. When I finally reach the forest, I spot a lonesome one standing dead ahead shining an orb where I last was. I reach for the pocket knife. The numbers on it look familiar, or do they? What does this mean?