Reborn in Another World - Part Three

"Where...am I?" I groan and cough, my voice so crackly and hoarse it isn't even recognizable as my own. "Is this...a rescue camp or...something..."

Blinking rapidly I try to get a grasp of my surroundings, the noise of voices and footfalls outside along with the memories of the storm driving me to get my bearing as soon as possible. However, despite my best efforts I find my vision blocked entirely by a thick and foul-smelling shade of dark hair. The huge matted, sweaty, and dirty mass of black locks weighs down at my head, the sticky oily strands clinging to my face and neck.

Reborn in Another World - Part Two

Slowly coming to from what feels like the deepest sleep of my life I'm met with the sound of subtle breathing and a dull heartbeat from inside my own body. In a deep lingering malaise I find myself struggling to move, my limbs not responding to my commands as I lay in the oppressive darkness.

As I lay there, unable to move or see through my closed eyes, I find my hearing becoming more and more attuned to my environment.

The cawing of birds breaks the silence almost immediately, the cries being so loud that I would be wincing if I could. Between the bouts of violent screaming from the far off birds I begin to hear more sweet and melodic chirping from those feathered friends that I by far preferred in my dreary waking state. They sound somewhat familiar, however, I just can't place them. It is as though they were some attempted recreation of bird calls I knew from memory, something I think I recognize but are just strangely off.

Reborn in Another World - Part One

Clutching at my cup of tea I stare out the window of my apartment, my eyes glued to the storm raging outside. While wild weather wasn't uncommon this time of year this sudden bout of thunder and lightning was different. It had apparently come from nowhere, with the weather bureau tripping over themselves to explain why we had gone from a warm albeit cloudy day to the storm of the year.

Watching the rain through the window, while usually calming, caused no small amount of fear in me. Trees down at street level were being stripped bare by a mixture of the heavy pelting rain and the striking blasts of constant wind, lamp posts and streetlights leaning and listing as they too struggle under the onslaught.

Sipping at my tea I reach out to touch the windows in my kitchen, my fingers grazing over the chipping paint around the frame. I can feel the whole structure rattle and shake as it holds the elements back, a cold sweat running down my neck as I wonder how much of this weather my aging apartment could endure.