CAN YOU IMAGINE? - The Wanderer

"Where am I going again?" The mind begged the question. It didn't really want or need a response, yet it felt like something that had to be asked for some sort of sanity check. Something to make everything feel normal. But nothing was.

Above was nothing but a bright grey; middle of the day, it may be. Dense fog kept me seeing only several feet ahead. Though, the only view I have is trees. I'm surrounded by great and ancient pines, some tall enough to pierce the fog. The mixture of dead and brown foliage had long cooled my bare feet, and they almost felt numb. Yet I trudged, occasionally feeling the crunch of bugs below me and almost receiving immediate punishment in the form of sharp rocks and splintered branches, pricking me for my mindless slaughter of these little creatures.

It was cold, and I could not help but shiver. My clothes are thin. Cotton pajamas that used to be a vibrant blue, but ages of wash and wear have made them as grey as this fog. These woods never seem to end, yet I go forward in this direction hoping for something to tell my why I'm here.

That something heard me, and it was hiding in the shrubs. Its eyes' black and shiny, grey skin between them. The thing had not a nose, but two fingernail-sized holes in the center of its face to act as nostrils. Maybe it may have the answers.

I approach, but it sinks deeper into the greenery. My fingers fight through the leaves and branches, but I find nothing within. I look up, and I see more sets of eyes in the branches above. Black glistening eyes revealing no emotion or motive. They watch me.

The sudden buzzing in my head told me, or maybe reminded me, that these were things I should not be around. As the buzzing became louder and louder, more eyes appeared, and in the fog, the bolder ones approached, the shapes of their bodies being revealed: humanoid; tall and slender with long arms and legs long like a spider's. They spoke through the buzzing. Directly to my head, the words they put in did not make sense. It was a language I did not recognize or rather one I was never meant to hear or comprehend. There were so many voices, I felt like it was impossible to hear through my ears at this point. But one thought, my own, was louder than the rest: RUN.

I ran from the eyes, into the brown, green and grey wilderness. I cut my foot on something, a sharp rock or the ragged edge of a stick. I didn't care. Don't look back, I told myself, whatever you do, do not look back. The cold air burns my lungs but my sprint is unstoppable. Run, run, run.

I see a clearing and I charge towards it. The ground is flat and black. Asphalt. A road cutting though the woods! I make for it. Maybe I'll hail for a passerby. I'm so close. Almost there.

Within several feet, a car stopped in front of me. It was black and shiny, like it was just washed and waxed. A full-size sedan, fresh from the factory. It sat on polished wire wheels, its many spokes gleaming. The windows' tint was so dark, I could not see who was in it.

A door opened, and a man stepped out of the back seat. His clothing was dark and expensive. He looked as if though he was dressed for a funeral. He wore sunglasses with circular lenses, held by a thin black frame. His expression was solemn and gave no hint of his plans. He raised an arm and extended it towards me. I stop a few feet away from him. Tilting his wrist upwards, he slowly opened his hand revealing to me his palm. On his palm were three small metallic orifices, aligned in a triangle. The flesh puckered around them as if they were unhealthy growths.

"No, please!" I yell.

The man doesn't listen and a blinding blue light shoots from the holes. I shut my eyes and stumble backwards, as a sound like a whistle rushes past me. Sitting in mud and dead leaves, I realize I'm not dead. I look up, and the man is standing before me. I muster up the courage and glance behind me. The things are quickly skittering away, making to what I believe are cries of agony.

Before I can thank the man, he lends a hand, one that doesn't have strange devices in them and speaks.

"Mr. President." He addresses me.

President? President of what? We walk towards the black car as he speaks into his wrist. The driver is in similar attire.

"It has been years, Mr. President, but we finally found you. How you escaped, I wonder." He pulls out a metal device the size of a TV remote. It shines a red light over my left eye, then my right. It makes a couple of high-pitched noises while the man reads from a glowing screen. "It seems their experiments have made their effect on your memory, unfortunately." He paused for a moment, lost in his reading, then said, "But rest assure, Mr. President, we will fix you and take back this world of ours."

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