A loud screech resounded in my ears, shaking my soul back to reality from the depths of the dream world. Light flooded through my eyelids, and a gentle breeze stirred them open. Rubbing the sleep out of my eyes, I glanced around my room in a half-dazed trance. My hand instinctively reached out to the space on my right, feeling for the switch on my alarm clock.

Or at least that was what was supposed to happen.

Instead, I was greeted by an open field of fresh green grass and patches of sun-bright dandelions; a crow was cawing at the top of its lungs overhead. My hand, still searching for the alarm switch, pulled back clumps of grass and dirt. Where am I? I immediately sat up, awake and alert. A wave of questions smothered my mind: Who took me here? Was I a victim of a kidnapping? My parents must be worried out of their mind!

Wait. Who were my parents?

Then it hit me. I didn't remember anything. Not where I came from, not where I am, not even who I am. It was as if my memory was covered by a thin layer of cloth: the contents beneath which are translucent, but I could not grasp a clear picture.

Yet, I did not feel as if I had lost a part of myself. I did not feel panic; I did not feel lost. Maybe I was just too shocked and confused to feel anything, or maybe I had no memories capable of evoking emotion in me.

I clambered to my feet. My body swayed in the breeze like the grass around me before collapsing back onto the ground. My senses were still hazy and unfamiliar, as if I had just woken up from a long hibernation and lost all sense of self. I felt like a toddler just learning how to walk, but my body was that of a teenager: smooth youthful skin covered my thin arms and manly hands, and I was clothed in a white shirt and worn down jeans. A body that reminisced a fourteen or fifteen years old? I didn't know how I could assume that; I didn't even know my age, but something told me that I was older than fifteen.

Older than the age I look?

Much of my bodily senses returned to me now, and I struggled back onto my feet, wobbling as my legs strived to support my weight. I surveyed my surroundings: never-ending plains of tall, untrimmed green grass and trees dotted the landscape. Not a single building or sign of human existence was in sight. As images of my future alone in the wilderness began playing through my mind, a feeling of agitation built up. I did not know where I am; I did not know where I could go. It was just me, alone, in the middle of nowhere, a familiar feeling I never want to experience, and that was what disturbed me more than my amnesia.

As if someone heard my internal cries, the sound of squeaky wheels and rhythmic hoof steps echoed through the plains. A carriage was making its way down a road not far in front of me. I probably should have thought more about my actions before charging out--surely it's common knowledge to not talk to strangers. But the fear of remaining alone out here overtook any precautions I'd learned. I ran out, waving my hand frantically to catch the carriage driver's attention.

"Hey! Excuse me!" Was this honestly my voice? It sounded clear, high-pitched, and... young. Not the scruffy, deep voice I had.

I paused. What was that? It felt as if I remembered how my voice sounded before? Before? Before what?

"Oy boy! Don't yell at me then ignore me!" The carriage stopped before me. The driver was a short but sturdy man, with muscular arms crossed before his chest and a long viking beard rustling in the wind. He glared at me with menacing eyes filled with annoyance and disgust. Whatever I was going to say got choked back down my throat. I was taken aback: this burly man looked like he wanted to strangle me for no reason.

"Sir... can you tell me where I am?"

"Oh I can tell you where you are, all right. You're standing in front of me, wasting my time and delaying my delivery!"

"N-no sir. I mean, I'm sorry, sir. I just want to know where I am."

The driver stared me down, narrowing his eyes, while I resisted the urge to cower away.

"We're in the plains outside Rockshor Town. Are you lost, boy?"

Hearing him ask me if I was lost was not comforting at all.

"Would you mind taking me to the town, sir?"

"Are you going to pay me?" The driver grumbled impatiently.

I reached into the pocket of my jeans, hoping that maybe I did have money in there. But all that I pulled out was a bubblegum wrapper, a piece of chocolate, and three quarters. The driver stared at my meager belongings.

"What kind of coins are those? I'm not taking that!" He spat. Unfurling his arms, he reached forwards and gripped the reins to the strong stallions that pulled his carriage. He's leaving. My heart pounded rapidly from sudden anxiety at the thought of losing this chance to enter a civilized town: the only lead I had to possibly recovering my missing memories and a chance to avoid being stranded out here alone. I instinctively grabbed onto the driver's arm before he could motion his horses to gallop off.

"Please, sir? I need to get to town." My voice was genuinely pleading, like a lost child wailing for his parents, which, in a way, was kind of the situation I was in. The driver's glare faded for a brief second, wavering between his choices. His eyes shifted down to my hand, which was still wrapped around his beefy arms, and the angry flames sparked again in his eyes. He threw my hand off of him and gazed unblinkingly into my soul for a solid minute. I didn't dare to move even an inch in fear of enraging him and losing this chance. Or worse: my life.

"Get in the back." The driver sighed in annoyance and pointed to the back of the carriage, where he was lugging huge wooden barrels. I let out a breath of relief. Cautiously, I stepped past him and onto the carriage, keeping him in the corner of my vision in case he lashed out at me.

"Damn cursed one."

I swiveled around and faced the driver's muscular back. Did he say something? The driver showed no signs of talking, and simply whipped his horses into motion.

I couldn't say the ride was pleasant. The road was made of stone and gravel, and the carriage bounced up and down like a frog. The barrels were filled with a liquid that sloshed around viscously, nearly spilling on me multiple times. It was somewhat nerve-racking watching watching the liquid sway to the very rim of the barrel only to rock back to the other side of the rim. The liquid emitted a pungent, fermented bitter odor that wafted the entire carriage; an intimate, putrid scent. I often found myself holding my breath, trying to not take in this horrible stench.

The moment we were in sight of the town, the driver kicked me off his carriage. It would have been nice if he had just told me to get off, but no--he literally kicked me off. He even went through the trouble of jumping into the back of the carriage to do so. Was he that spiteful of giving a poor child a free ride? That didn't feel like the reason. He disliked me from the moment he saw me--did he know me? I didn't know, and I couldn't know. Everything about my life was a glaring question mark in my mind.

Before me was a large, cracked stone wall that extended past the horizon line. The wall stood over twenty feet tall, but it was by no means grand or magnificent; it was crumbling, filthy, and covered in wild vegetation. There were no guards at the gates, either; they were swung wide open, as if welcoming everyone to enter. I stepped onto the brick road of the town, following the carriage that kicked me off.

The town was... busy. It teemed with merchants selling their merchandise on stands and blankets spread out on the side of the road. Uneven wooden houses and buildings were lined up side by side, so close that the buildings were touching one another, along the street behind the merchant stalls. The place was jammed with people of all sizes and ages, shuffling forward through whatever gap they could find in the crowd and trying to not get trampled by passing horse-drawn carriages filled with goods. I peeped through the hustling bodies at the assortment of swords and axes that lay spread out on a stall table. Their metallic blades glinting under the sun, giving praise to the smith who made these deadly tools. Most of the vendors seemed to be selling either weapons or food. Is this country going to war?

The man in front of me exchanged a couple silver-colored, metallic-looking, rectangular chips for a massive, well-sharpened greatsword. Were those chips money? What kind of currency was that? I couldn't tell if I was transported so far away from home that even the currency was different, or if I had just forgotten about it. What I did know was that the quarters in my pocket were of no use and of no relation to this place. At least this would explain that carriage driver's frustrated and bemused reaction to my possession of these circular coins.

I still remember that driver's hatred for me when I approached him, and now I could confirm it was not the free ride that disturbed him. I sensed glares from disdainful eyes all around me as I shuffled my way through the townspeople. It felt like every living being near me detested my guts; each and every citizen in this town watched my moves with vengeful eyes, as if I'd murdered their loved ones. I don't believe I have the heart to commit such a crime, but without memories to back me up, even I was starting to doubt myself. Maybe it was a good thing that I couldn't remember my history with this place, if it meant saving me from the pain or guilt, or a psychotic self that I did not know.

I began to cower under the heat of the gazes. My shoulders hunched; my head tilted towards the ground. My hands fumbled the edge of my shirt, twirling the cloth as a girl would her hair. This wasn't the first time I've been looked at that way, but I still wanted to get away from those eyes. 

A cold hand gripped my shoulder from behind and roughly yanked me backwards through the crowd to the side of the street where there was a gap between the stalls. I stumbled to regain my footing and faced my aggressor.

"Kid." Four older and exceptionally tall teenagers loomed over me. Their eyes were filled with the same malice the rest of the townspeople presented to me. "You just gonna walk into us and not apologize?" I bristled. Even though people on the street seemed to avoid me, it was literally impossible to walk down this street without bumping against the people walking next to you. I wasn't even forcing my way through the crowd, and neither do I remember shoving anyone, much less four giants who protruded above the mass of people.

"Cat got your tongue?" The guy in the front shot daggers down at me. "All we're asking is for you to apologize. Is your pride that high?" No, but yours may be.

I swallowed down my urge to retort against him. I was in no situation to fight back when the horde of people, many of whom probably hate me, were casting unsympathetic glances in my direction. I lowered my gaze and dipped my head slightly. "I'm sorry for bumping against you." Even I was surprised how meaningful my apology sounded.

"That's it?" I lifted my eyes up just in time to see his is face twist into an ugly snarl. "Kneel, and then I'll forgive you."

What in the world is this guy asking of me? My head was screaming at me to pound his smug face in, but my body remained frozen.

Three of the thugs power-walked towards me; their arms reaching for my flesh, fingers curled like the jaws of a snake craving for blood. I didn't know exactly what happened at that moment. My mind stopped thinking, frozen along with my body. Fear exploded inside me. All I could hear was my frantically pounding heart. Time slowed as I watched them draw nearer. There was so much I could do, yet I did nothing. My mind screamed at me to move, to fight back, to install regret in them, but the instincts carved into my being refused to listen. A dreaded sense of deja vu flooded through me. Why was this horrible feeling so... familiar?

If 'saved by the clouds' was not a saying already, it should be, because that was exactly what happened. Darkness swept over the streets as grey storm clouds rumbled overhead. The once clear, sunny day was abruptly masked in darkness. Everyone on the streets froze as they turned towards the sky. The guys surrounding me also looked up, and the violent confidence in their eyes faded away.

But at that moment, I honestly felt relieved. Relieved that I was free from that terror that ran through my body seconds ago. A relief that would not last long.