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Cold. Breezy. Empty

Cold. Breezy. Empty.

Those are the first thoughts that ring in my mind when I open my eyes.
More than being confused I am scared. Why? What happened? Where am I? Wasn’t I resting at home? How did I get here?

I wish to ask these but the silence doesn’t answer me. On top of my lungs I scream for someone. But only echoes from the building by whose door I lie ring. I turn and look, staring at the tall dirty building. Yes, it looks abandoned, feels like only cobwebs live here.

In the fear I just count for myself. It’s six storeys. A voice rings in the back of my mind. Six is a bad number, it’s unlucky and evil. Can’t tell whose it is but I take it serious.

I stand and walk slowly but the pounding headache brings me to a stop and so I bend to clutch at my temples but something drops.. It’s white, seems like a piece of paper. I bend and pick it, for a moment forgetting my pain. I open it and stare blankly for a while.

“Ricard Rivers Vivida.”

A name, a male name and another one. Who is he? Why do I have this note? What truly happened? How did I land here?

Somehow I try to recall. Who am I? My mind feels dark. Only more questions open up. And finally I can’t help but tremble. Here I am, in front of a seemingly abandoned building in the woods. No name, no idea of who I am. No idea of why I was in this place.

Where to start? Where do I go? What am I even doing here? How did I get here? Who’s Ricard Rivers? What does Vivida even mean?

Why not share?

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