It was the echoing sound of metal clashing against metal as I attempted to move my limbs that fully woke me up from an almost drunken state of disorientation. 

I blinked lethargically as my vision slowly grew into focus. The sight that stretched out before me was darkness; darkness of the kind that I have never seen before. Even in my dark room on the darkest of nights, there was some modicum of light coming from somewhere. But here, it seemed to be completely empty. Void of even the smallest source of illumination. It scared me. It filled my very being with a sense of forthcoming dread. I needed to move, to escape, to get away from this all-consuming blackness.

But my struggle for movement was to no avail. My arms were completely locked into place. Movement rewarded me with nothing more than the echoing sound of clashing metal. Metal.... the realization brought me out of a fear induced panic attack. There was something else here. I turned my head and scoured my arm for the source of the clanging metal noise. It was a metal clasp, wrapped around my wrist and connected to a chain that extended upwards. Seemingly connected to nothing, stretching endlessly until it faded into the darkness.

The fact that I could see something, anything, brought me hope. Even if it was just my body and a chained clasp. Sight means light, and light gives way for a chance of escape. Now all I have to do now is find out where it is coming fro-

A blinding all encompassing white light interrupted my musings.

I awoke with a gasp, and sleepily used my hand to block out the yellow rays from the sun that rested in the blue...sky. The hazy feeling associated with the my recent memories told me that the darkness and the chains were but a mere dream. But it felt nothing like one. It felt...real.

"HEY!" An aged voice called out. "Get off the side walk you lazy bum!"

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

The voice knocked me out of my contemplation. Standing over me was a man who appeared to be in his mid-forty's. His wrinkled face and sunken eyes spoke of years of work and stress. His strained and gravely voice detailed a life of constant speaking, most likely in an authoritative position. Details that I usually wouldn't notice stood out exclusively. Odd.

"Sorry," my voice sounded sluggish and drowsy, as if I was about to drop from exhaustion.

I stood up, grabbing a nearby street lamp for support. Stumbling on nothing in a disoriented stupor. The man rushed forward with a unimpressed grunt, forcing me to hold on to the lamp tighter to keep my balance as he brushed passed.

The sight of my surroundings send me into a daze, it brought back memories. Memories that came back in gradual fragments. Running, panting, knives, and death. I.......died here. Was that a dream as well? No, it couldn't be. It was far to vivid to be a dream. Far to realistic to be fake. How am I even alive? Was I laying there...for the entire night? Did no one even think to help?

I didn't matter, I had to get home. To my apartment. But as I stumbled along the sidewalk, brushing past people as I staggered forward. It wasn't the poorly hidden grimaces of disgust that caught my attention, it was their eyes.

Their stares were penetrating. I could see the silent judgment lurking behind their eyes as they looked upon my predicament; my appearance must be a mess. I could tell that they were glad that it wasn't them here, dazed and confused. I didn't want to be looked upon like I was the scum of the earth. I didn't want to be the subject of their sharp glares. I didn't want to be here. I wanted to be somewhere else, anywhere else. Somewhere that is not here. Anywhere.

The surrounding space twisted and warped, and then suddenly, as if responding to my wishes; I was somewhere else.