It sounds like…waves.

It’s soft, kind of like the sound water makes when it's lapping against the beach. And it smells crisp, like salt - maybe sunlight. Is it possible to smell sunlight? I don’t remember.

I try to turn my head towards the noise, because it sounds close, like it’s right next to my ears, but the instant I twitch in its direction there’s… PAIN.

It’s agonizing, and it feels like it’s everywhere, like there’s nothing else besides it.

I clench my teeth and my eyes roll back in my head. I fight to focus, to find the throb that’s somewhere in behind my eyes to snuff it out.

It takes several minutes and many quick, little breaths before the pain lessens and the sound of waves creeps back into my ears. Its rhythm soothes the ache and I time my breathing to each lap of water.

The process settles my nerves and with it comes the courage to open my eyes.

I squint, warily, peeking out through my lashes.

There’s a cloud directly overhead. Its hills shield most of the sun’s rays. Beyond its soft edges is a brilliant blue sky. The hue is deep in a way I don’t think I’ve seen before and—

Wait…

...

What’s my name?

The question hits me like a hammer, and I suddenly know that I don’t know things. Like I don’t know what color the sky should be. I don’t know where I am. I don’t know my name. That… that can’t be good.

It also seems wrong somehow.

I start to catalog what I know with increasing alarm, because for some reason while I understand what things are, I don’t know what the world should be. Like, I know that the sky above me is blue, but I’m not certain if that color is correct. And that idea stops me short, because does that make sense? Does memory even work like that?

I think that maybe it doesn’t, maybe it shouldn’t, but I’m vaguely aware – somehow – that I don’t have extensive knowledge on the subject so I can’t say for sure.

I huff out a breath and I’m startled when it doesn’t hurt.

Ah… it feels… better.

I shift my focus to my right hand rather than the questionable state of my mind and try to move my thumb. The movement is cautious, just a tiny tensing of muscles, and the pain flares. It doesn’t steal my breath, which is promising, but it takes a second of aching before I move again. My thumb flexes. And I think the throb is less than before, but... ugh! Why does it hurt so much just to move my thumb?

I suck in a shallow breath and try to focus on the movement, not the pain. Carefully, I begin a series of small movements throughout my body. It’s tiny little twitches, from my hands to my feet, and each micro movement swells with pain. I push past them all with a wince. The practice is slow and I’m not sure how long I lay there, because at one point I realize that I’m lying down.

Eventually, I fully turn my head and I gasp at the sight.

There’s water… everywhere. Its color falls somewhere between blue and green. Waves, nudged by a salty breeze, swell across the whole of it. The water stretches to the edge of my vision, and I whip my head in the other direction, wincing at a quick stab of agony, hoping that I’m not floating in the middle of an ocean.

My fears die, because it’s not water on the other side, but then they throttle back up my throat when my eyes fully focus.

There’s sky – lots of sky. It dips down past where the horizon should be, because there is no horizon, just the sky going out and down.

Trembling seizes my limbs and I’m suddenly concerned about what I’m lying on, because if it’s not solid ground then the smallest tip could send me plummeting into endless sky.

I shuffle, quickly and painfully, closer to the water, feeling the sharp point of an edge as I near the waves. The movement is far enough to see a hint of what’s holding me up. It looks like a slab of rough, solid stone.

drag myself farther away from the sky, my arm dipping fully into the water and soaking my sleeve.

I try to stop the trembling. It’s causing little jolts of agony.

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It takes a moment, and I fight to separate myself, focusing my thoughts on something other than the ache, and instead settle on a different pressing question.

Where am I?

I can’t remember.

It seems a more important question than ‘who am I’, because I can always uncover that later, in a safer place. And I think there should be something, maybe some hint, if not in my brain then maybe on my person as to what that answer is.

The thought drives me to sit up, which I manage with a large amount of groaning, and I grasp at the ocean edge. I lean precariously towards the water for a moment, hesitant to shuffle too far on the narrow slab of stone.

My eyes flicker from the open sky to my legs, covered in dirty jeans, then to my feet with equally dirty, white tennis shoes. My intent is to bring that line of observation up to my shirt, but instead I stare past my shoes to the ledge that stretches hundreds of feet before meeting a mass of land.

Relief surges through me.

It looks rather… blue, for lack of a better word. It sparkles a bit in the light, and only the stationary crests of color clue me in to the fact that it’s not ocean.

The space butts up against the sky, like the ledge does, but instead of water filling out the other side, the land extends, creating a beach. I can’t see the far side, which reassures me that the ground is more than a small random speck.

I twist around, carefully, only to confirm that the area behind me is the same endless water and air. It’s as if I’m lying on top of a dam and I realize the sparkling land is my best bet for not tumbling off of it.

The going is slow, because I decide I don’t want to risk standing up. Falling into the ocean is fine with me, I can dry off, but I don’t want to risk falling into the sky.

Some parts of the ledge are slick, and the smooth half, that’s been worn down by the waves, causes me to slip more than once. The pain is almost completely gone by the time I reach the end and I flop back onto a blue, sandy substance, well away from the edge, to catch my breath. It wasn’t the crawl that took it out of me, but the final receding pinpricks on my nerves.

I close my eyes against the blue colors around me, realizing I’ve somehow landed in a mono-colored environment. It honestly hurts to look at it.

I feel something tight against my neck as I settle and I reach up a trembling hand to touch the spot that’s pinching me. My fingers touch something cold and hard and I tug at it until it loosens around my neck, part of it slipping out from beneath my shirt. My fingers pull until the end pops into view.

It’s a chain, silver and woven, strung through the tip of a metallic circle. A seam runs around its perimeter and I realize it’s a locket.

A locket!

I fumble at the clasp, fingers shaking with sharp excitement. This is it! The answer to so many questions, it has to be!

I pop open the cover and twist it around to see what’s inside.

There’s a picture. It’s pressed into the shape, edges cinched into the frame. The image is clear and bright, the background a handsome, rustic wall, and in the center is… a family.

I’m not sure how I know this, but some part of my brain cues me in and I follow the train of thought as I study the picture.

There’s an older man standing at one end with silver speckles in his blonde hair. His eyes are bright blue and framed by smile lines. He’s hugging a woman around the same age. Her hair is almost silver, it’s so light, and she’s peeking up at the man with twinkling eyes. They’re both angled towards the rest of the family, their stance protective, maybe affectionate.

The five children, because they must be the children, though some look like adults themselves, take up the rest of the picture. The first two appear to be another couple. On the left is a man with a dark complexion, holding hands with a woman that is a clear mix of her parents. Next to them are a boy and a girl, both slightly younger. The boy is ruffling the girl’s red hair, a teasing grin settled beneath blue eyes. The girl is swatting at him.

They look…happy, all of them. It almost feels like they’re alive, like at any moment the girl’s hand will make contact with her brother’s head, the mother’s smile will tip from her eyes to her lips, and the young couple’s hands will tighten their grip.

My fingers reach out to touch it, and that’s when the final child catches my attention.

It’s me.

I’m not sure how I know this, but it stirs in my chest with sudden clarity and I realize that I’m looking at an image of myself – of my family.

My face is stoic, compared to the others, maybe a little tired, and I find that odd against the vibrant affection in the people behind me. My bright blue eyes look dim, and my long, blond hair is folded in an unkempt braid.

I look…young, I decide. Possibly the youngest of all those in the picture, but I’m not sure how old I am exactly. I’m not sure how to tell. There’s something decidedly aged about the look in my eyes and youthful about the skin pinched between them.

I look a little sad.

My first thought is that maybe my family life was troubled, but that thought is immediately banished by an undeniable surge of affection when I look back over the picture, at my family.

I love them. I love them so much.

It’s such a strong emotion that I immediately sit up and look around, because I realize – they’re not here. I’m alone. Which means… which means what? Are they lost somewhere? Are they in trouble? Do they…do they need me?

I feel a spike of panic and stumble to my feet, my head on a swivel. I search every inch of what I can see – the sand, the ocean, the sky.

Dread drops into my gut at the thought that they might have fallen into it, but…but I can’t go there, can’t think that. Still, I shuffle towards the ledge, dropping to my hands and knees as I get closer, and peek into the expanse. The immediate vertigo makes my head swim, and I pinch my eyes closed until it settles.

The second look is more cautious. I open one eyelid at a time until I can reasonably study the empty air.

I can’t see the bottom. There’s lots of blue and some odd sort of fog quite a ways down. The ledge itself descends far enough that it disappears into the haze.

They can’t be down there, I decide. They’re not.

I perform a similar investigation of the ocean, and likewise determine that I can’t find the bottom. There’s nothing there, nothing anywhere, as far as signs of life – no one but me.

I sit back on the blue sand and open the locket again.

Affectionate smiles. Twinkling eyes. My family.

I have to find them.

I will find them.