For the first time since losing consciousness what could have been either hours or days before, Michael wasn't sure, he decided that the next step was to look out of the window of his living room. The curtains were drawn, but he moved to open them.

There, he looked outside and found the street deserted, the only signs of life in the neighbourhood being a few abandoned cars. His street, which had been so familiar and welcoming to him, was now just a deserted street with no people, no life, nothing. There was nothing there at all.

"Oh God..." He breathed.

The sun had been setting when he'd last been awake, but now the sky was black and starless, with no sign of moon or sun. Michael felt himself began to shake at the overwhelming nature of everything that was happening, so he turned to a tried and tested method he'd always used professionally and personally; he grabbed a pen and paper and sat at the dining table, writing the thoughts that came to him.

- "It's night time. Not sure on date or hour??"

- "Parents gone. Taken by Death-Girl? (Or is this lie?)"

- "Death-girl; not human. Not sure what. Wants me to find tower. Has some supernatural powers."

- "The Tower. Not sure what it is. An actual tower? Are there any near here?"

Michael strained to think about the area around the small town he'd grown up in, and found that he couldn't think of anywhere that had a tower; there were no skyscrapers or tall buildings. No landmarks like that. He'd lived there practically his whole life, and had never come across any buildings like that. There were plenty of places that had a something that might be a tower, of course. Plenty of old, run-down buildings in the town, too. There was the church, for one example, which stood in the middle of the town square. It was the tallest building in the town, and it had a clock tower at the top.

If you squinted hard enough, and were some sort of extraterrestrial monster, maybe the church looked like a tower?

Then, there was something in his mind, like an itch, that wouldn't let go. Something nagged him, a memory, or a dream, of a place. Something that didn't belong.

Something in his head was trying to tell him, to show him, to guide him to a place that he didn't know. It was a place he'd never been to before. He didn't understand what was happening. He just knew it was there.

He closed his eyes and tried to focus on the feeling. The feeling was like a hand reaching into his brain, gently pulling out images from somewhere deep inside him. It was there for a few minutes, but then it was gone: The image of a building in the middle of a city. The image of a huge building with no windows, no doors, and no roof.

The image of a tower, but it didn't look anything like a tower that Michael knew. This tower was made of black, jagged glass, and was shaped like an enormous pyramid.

The feeling was gone, but it had left Michael with a clear idea of what the Tower looked like. It was strange, because it was like the feeling had been there for a while, but he hadn't been able to get hold of it. It was like a memory, a dream, that he couldn't quite grasp. He had no idea what this meant. Was this the death-girl's doing?

Was the Tower a real building? Was it even a place that existed in reality? Michael had never been to the Tower, so he didn't know.

But it was real.

It had to be real. It felt so real. The Tower was so clear in his mind that it was impossible to imagine that it didn't exist.

He opened his eyes. He stared at the paper and pen on the table. The feeling of the image in his mind was so strong, that he felt compelled to pick up the pen and write something down.

Quickly he scrawled, and he barely had his eyes open while he did so; he didn't want his critical mind getting in the way of whatever his subconscious was doing. Whatever was going on in his mind, he wanted to capture it.

After a few moments he stopped writing and looked down at the page.

It was a crude drawing, a sketch of a building, and a series of scribbles beneath it.

The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

It looked like a map.

There was no name on the map, just a set of lines, numbers and letters which he guessed were directional; for North, South, East, West and their combinations.

The nearest city from where Michael lived was forty miles away, and judging by the crude map, that was where he needed to go. The tower he'd pictured, if it existed in real life, would be somewhere near the city centre, and that's where he'd have to start looking.

Michael stood up and went over to the window. He opened it and looked out.

He could see the street, and he could see a few abandoned cars. The sky was dark, but it didn't feel as though it was nighttime. The street was empty. It was a ghost town.

He didn't know what to do.

He couldn't just stay in the house and hope that everything would be all right. He had to go out and find the tower. Or do something; his parents were gone.

He closed the window and turned to look at the drawing he'd done.

He picked it up, and took it to his room, and put it in his bag. He had to keep this safe, even though it was crude, possibly useless, and he didn't even know if the Tower existed.

"I'm going to need a lot more of a plan," Michael said to himself, errantly. "But first, I need to eat."

He decided to combine the two, and slipped into the kitchen to see what supplies he had that were edible; the power was out, so nothing from the fridge or freezer. The kitchen cupboards had plenty, however.

His stomach grumbled.

As he opened cupboards, his stomach rumbled again, and he felt the hunger gnaw at him.

In truth, there wasn't much he could eat without any power. He figured he could eat tinned meats and vegetables cold if he needed, but he wasn't there yet. The pasta and rice needed cooking, and Michael assumed the gas and electric were out. He almost considered just going to bed hungry. Glancing at his smart watch before realising it was out of battery, he wondered what the time really was. He'd guessed it was the dead of night due to how dark everything was outside.

He settled on a packet of biscuits and some bags of tortilla chips, just to get some energy in. Then he moved back to the pen and paper, and tried to come up with some sort of plan.

"Need food and resources," he wrote, "will go to store tomorrow just in case."

He didn't believe for a second that anything would be left, but it'd give him the opportunity to do two things. Firstly, he could scout for food and a general sense of what the town was like and whether anyone else had survived, and secondly, he could go and see if the church was still standing, and also if it were the Tower the strange femme fatale were talking about.

Based on the map he'd drawn in his half-trance, he didn't hold out much hope. But it was a glimmer.

He crunched down on a tortilla chip, which felt dry in his throat, so he grabbed a bottle of water, too, and took a few gulps.

Then he went back to the table, sat down and started to think.

He thought about what he knew about this whole situation. He didn't have any real knowledge, of course, just some vague guesses. But it was enough to start him on a course of action.

The Elder Ones had arrived. The monsters he'd seen earlier, they'd been part of that arrival. They were here to take over the world. The creatures and beasts had done something to the world, to change it somehow. He wasn't sure exactly what. But he did know that he was in a bad situation, and he was in it alone.

His parents had disappeared, taken by the death-girl, or so she had said. Michael wasn't sure he believed her.

The death-girl. The woman who had appeared on his television screen. She had claimed to be one of the Elder Ones. Michael wasn't sure he believed her either. But if she were one of the Elder Ones, then maybe she was a powerful one, and maybe she had some kind of control over his parents.

Michael's eyes scanned over the words on the page as he considered the possibilities. Ultimately, the bigger picture seemed irrelevant until he actually had an idea what was going on in the wider world; it might be that his small town was mostly untouched, it might have been that a complete Armageddon had been raging outside while he was unconscious having been kissed by the alien goddess thing.

He shook his head, and continued to think, write and eat, until eventually he had to sleep, though it came uneasily.

Michael's sleep was broken, as he expected. He was haunted by the images of what he'd seen. He'd seen monsters, but he had no idea what they really were. The images were burned into his brain.

And he was worried about his parents, too, though he didn't dare admit the worst to himself. He tried to keep his thoughts positive. But the worst was there, and it wouldn't leave him alone.

He woke early. The house was cold and empty, but at least it wasn't haunted. He got up and went to the bathroom to relieve himself. When he finished, he looked at himself in the mirror.

His face looked pale, drawn, and tired. He had dark circles under his eyes. His skin was greyish-white. He hadn't eaten properly in days, and he was dehydrated. His hair was greasy and matted, and he smelled.

He was a mess.

He needed to clean himself up. He went into the bathroom, turned on the tap and washed his face. He told himself that his plan for the day was a simple one; go down into the town and see what was happening there, if anything, and also check out the church.

He had a hunch that he might find something there. Something that might give him a clue as to what was going on. He didn't have any idea what it was, but it felt like the right thing to do.

It was still night outside, but Michael knew that soon the sun would be up. He had a few hours before dawn.

After washing himself, he dressed quickly and went downstairs. The power was still out, so the lights didn't work. He found his torch in the hall cupboard, and switched it on. The beam lit the way for him as he walked to the front door.

He opened the front door, stepped out into the night, and walked towards whatever the hell was waiting for him.