Fires dazed in stupor, smoke dancing with the blood that was tossed into the air, and then darkness. A face emerged, its features illuminating the void. The face cackled and stretched into a mess of wrinkles, spit flying with every laugh laden breath. Within its eyes was the virgin starry sky, and all the world began to crumble. The wrinkles began to split into valleys, spit into rivers. Yet all mattered not, as the starry eyes bled across the canvas and consumed everything. A beautiful starry sky on all sides, tranquil and quiet. . .

Then the beating of a drum, first a touch, then a tap, and then a thunderclap.

He awoke in hot sweat, his heavy breathing obscuring the cicadas buzzing in the distance. His body otherwise frozen, leaving his eyes to wander across the wooden ceiling. Time passed. His fingers began to clench at the heavy blanket covering him, his legs writhed against the straw bedding underneath him. Finally, he shot up, his breathing stabilized leaving the sounds of insects to reach their crescendo. It was then he realized a profound emptiness. His thoughts were disordered and his body felt out of place. It felt as if he had been born on the bed, as he could remember nothing else besides this current moment. Empty, that's all he could call upon or feel in both body and mind. And then, as if a drum had been struck, the feeling set in and he began to scramble. The hide blanket flew away and the bed began to tip; his foot hooked against the wooden wall and he pushed, launching himself away from it. With a thump he crashed into the ground, and lay still on the dirt floor. Having no reason to get up he stayed that way. A dull pain, and a strange bubbling sensation was all he could feel. Suddenly, his disturbed gaze became clear. A warm comfort arose from the bubbly feeling, like a mother's arms wrapping around him. He lay frozen till it subsided. When he finally sat up, an hour had passed and with it the feelings of emptiness and pain. A desolate cabin with the only source of light crippled by a single pair of wooden shutters. Still, a few objects immediately caught his notice: A chest, a fireplace, a door, and of course the bed he was on before. At least it was still bright out; there was yet something for him to do.He looked down at his unfamiliar hands, an uncanny feeling. They were soft and supple, his arms and naked body seemed the same. His hands soon came up to his face, rubbing against his pudgy features. He shuffled aside his long black hair, to rub against his forehead, cold. His fingers snapped back in surprise of the sensation, yet he curiously traced back towards it again. There it was, a single point on his forehead. A strange feeling of connection and possession welled up inside of him. His mind lingered on the spot, before it looked elsewhere. He began to search the cabin meticulously. The cabin was filled with junk, but to his empty stomach’s disappointment there was not an ounce of food. 

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Yet that did not mean he turned up nothing. His once uncovered figure was now wrapped in an old hemp tunic, cut to fit his smaller size. His feet were equipped with oversized straw sandals. Over his shoulder was a hemp strap, that led down to a worn bag, containing straps of cloth and leather. In his right hand was his greatest find, a small, dull knife. Most peculiarly, he had covered his forehead with a rag. For some reason he felt highly protective of the strange cold spot; it was his secret and his alone. Now equipped for adventure, he walked towards the door with heavy anticipation. A rotting smell tickled his nose as soon as he neared the door. Dismissing the smell, he pushed open the door, it’s broken lock offering no resistance. A bright light shone through the doorway, revealing the vast forest around him and blinding him for a moment; while a thick pungent smell of rot assaulted his nose. He dazedly turned towards the source of the smell; upon notice, he vomited onto the ground. His gaze slowly turned upwards, aiming back towards the object; his stomach immediately wrenched on sight of it.

  Flies surrounded a mutilated corpse, it's wretched stench an invasion to the wilderness. The corpse was heavily desecrated with an unnatural withering and grisly lacerations blanketing. The face was indistinguishable, with only its untouched hide clothes giving some semblance as to what it was. His guess was that the corpse belonged to the hunter who once lived in the cabin. The thought settled in and the boy’s heart froze, he slowly moved away from both the cabin and the body. Confusion and horror began to burn away at every other emotion. What followed was a mad sprint. When he had come back to his senses, he was out of breath and could no longer see the cabin. Surrounding him now was an overgrown forest, with only one path to follow. Yet in the midst of the heavy wilderness, he had failed to notice a floating eye trailing his presence.