Sapphire. Ivory. Gold. An array of vibrant colors fading and mixing and harmonizing with the rolling and stretching clouds that hung in the sky, all streaked and swirling like oil on water – acrylic on canvas.

A static rush of waves against the shore. Sunlight that warmed my skin. Damp long hair that brushed against my back, swayed by the breeze that whispered through the treetops, bringing with it the smell of pine and salt. The moist sand between my toes and the cold water that spilled over my feet to rise past my ankles.

I jumped back. The water was freezing cold, and with the breeze, I was starting to shiver. I looked around to see where I was. A beach, of course, on the edge of a forest. There were no structures in sight, no other people, and beyond the caw of the gulls, no other sign of life.

Where am I, I thought. What was I doing?

I was answered only by the wind in the trees.

It must've been one of those survival games - they usually began like this. I started off into the forest to look for resources. Only three steps in, and I realized I was barefoot. I was in a high sensory load survival game, and they didn't have the decency to give me sandals? This was no joke. As I looked at my now dirty feet, I noticed the hair that fell down the sides of my face.

Wait, am I...

I felt around to check myself. Beneath the simple white dress, I was a girl. Was I always a girl? As if I struck a bell that echoed far into the distance, the question resounded into my mind and into my soul, and I had no answer.

"Who am I?" The soft voice that escaped my lips was foreign, but there was no doubting that it came from me.

I stood there on the edge of the forest with wide eyes and a heart that felt like it was dropped into my gut. My mind raced, and my chest pounded the more I searched for an answer, yet I found nothing. I had no idea who I was or where I was from or what I was doing or why I was even here. I was just a girl with sandy feet and two handfuls of rocks. All I could recall was that this was a game, and even that I wasn't sure of.

Maybe this was just a lapse of memory. Like walking into a kitchen and forgetting what I came in for. Maybe I should see a doctor when I get done. Maybe it's just a rare bug after a login. I did log in, right?

I took a deep breath. It was probably just nothing. It might just be a hardcore survival sim that wipes the person's memory. Like a tournament or something. That's what it had to be! A tournament. If that were the case, the other players might be going through the same thing, the same internal struggle. I must be ahead if that's the case.

With my newfound resolve, I sprinted out into the woods, grabbing as many rocks and sticks I could find. I ripped a sleeve off my gown and tied off one end to make a long pouch, which I filled to the brim with rocks and sticks of various sizes. Some could be thrown, others could be used to make tools with. When I felt I had enough, I swung out my hand to open the crafting menu.

Nothing appeared.

"Oh."

It must've been one of those super hardcore survival sims. It would explain why every sensation was amplified to the highest level. Was that even safe? Getting stabbed was terrifying even at 50%, and this game must’ve been running closer to 90. Hell, most games didn’t even give the option to dive at anything higher than 75. I shrugged off the thought. This meant I needed to make all this shit by hand. I didn't even know how to make string.

I gave it some thought. In a forest, sticks are everywhere, so I tossed them aside. I could just use the rocks as projectiles or the bag as a blunt weapon. At least until I could remember how to make rope or string. In the meantime, I walked through the trees until I found a clearing.

As if it held some special importance, pillars of sunlight broke through the canopy of leaves and fell unto an old house - a cabin or a church. It had a thin tower attached to the side, with moss and ivy climbing along the stonework. When I got closer, I could see that the door was open. Loot!

When I felt no other players were near, I ran the distance and jumped inside. It was a warm, cozy place. Well decorated and perfectly designed. For a moment I was in awe for whichever developer put it together. The windows were stained glass with little etchings of whatever lore or language was here. Candles placed on any flat surface that could contain one. A framed painting of some bearded guy with a pink star on his cheek. An inviting bed, a desk with hyper-realistic ink and parchment, and a table with a fresh meal and a basket of fruit. Food!

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

I wasn't even hungry, but I knew the importance of food and drink in these games. I stuffed my face like a wild animal, stopping only when I thought I heard a noise. When I could physically eat no more, I dumped some of the rocks out on the table and tossed the fruit in the pouch. I froze in place. There was a voice outside the house, two of them! Players were already creating alliances? This was bad news.

I eased back from the table, hoping to hide under a bed or closet, but the floor creaked under what little weight I had. The door clicked open.

"And this is your outpost, deputy. This is where..." the voice trailed off.

I stared at them with wide eyes, frozen mid-stride to the bedroom, a lumpy bag in my hand, and a mouth full of half-chewed apples. The two players already had armor, iron helmets and swords that hung at their waists. Was I really this far behind?

"What are you doing?" the taller man asked.

I took another step, my eyes never leaving them. The window was just on the other side of the room, and with my rock bag, I could’ve probably shattered through it.

"Stop moving," he said.

I took another step and gulped down the mouthful of apples. I eased my hand to the bag and dug around for a rock.

"Stop that," he warned. "Don't do it." His companion looked around and started off to the other side of the building.

There were trying to outflank me! I thrust my hand into the bag and found the biggest rock I could get.

"Don't even—"

It was too late. I threw my projectile with such tremendous force, I felt it might break the sound barrier. When it hit his helmet, it exploded into a fine paste of green and white. I hit him with a pear.

The man stood unmoving, now soaked with bits of fruit and juice.

As I realized my mistake, the side door behind me slammed open. The younger guy locked eyes with me. "Ma'am, I need you to calm down. Ma'am - wait, stop!"

I was already mid-leap to the window. When my body made contact, the glass swung on its hinges, and I toppled over the side and into the grass. I scrambled to my feet, and just as I was about to sprint to freedom, I was stopped.

Almost a dozen others were standing outside, some chuckling to themselves, others wordlessly staring daggers into me. I didn't bring enough rocks for all of them, but I wasn't done yet.

"Deputy Jones!" a husky, older voice barked out. "What in the hells are you doing?"

I took the moment of confusion to dart off to the side, to break the blockade and slip by them. Their encumbrance should've been high with all that armor, and I was certain to have the stamina to outrun them. The younger guy stood in my path like a linebacker, sidestepping to whatever route he'd think I would take. "Ma'am, please," he begged.

Waves of irritation and adrenaline ripped through me. Getting killed in games with high sensory loads was awful, but what I truly hated was losing against zerg guilds. "You buncha tryhards!" I yelled. "Grouping up on us noobs!" I dug out a rock - a real rock this time - and hurled it at the young deputy. It plinked off his helmet.

"Ma'am, please." He started to approach with ready hands. He was trying to capture me! It must be that kind of guild, where they kidnap new players. That's probably what they all were. Once-kidnapped noobs who were Stockholm syndromed into becoming tryhards.

I threw the bag at the group, not bothering to aim, and scurried up the stone tower like a squirrel. I soon reached the top, forced to wrap my arms around the thinnest part of the conical roof to rest myself.

"Sir, I think she's lost it," the young guy said. "We need to get her some help." The group laughed.

"Deputy, this outpost is your responsibility," the gruff man said.

"You're all a bunch of larping weirdos!" I shouted.

"Halt!" A voice cried out from the edge of the clearing. It was a woman on horseback. She was adorned in red and white robes; pink stars lined her sleeves. With her, two similarly dressed riders were at her side. "What is the meaning of this? Captain Thomas, why is there a civilian on the cabin?"

"Priestess, I do not know," the gruff man said. "She's crazy, we think."

"Ma'am, please," the young guy pleaded with me. "Get down from there."

"No!" I yelled. My mind raced for a plan, any solution to get away from this group. Running wasn't an option, and I knew I was out-geared for a fight. All I had left was my cunning. "Priestess, lady!" I called out. "These guys were trying to kill me!"

"No we weren't," the taller man said. "We found you eating our food."

"Don't believe to their lies, priestess!" If there were a divide among their alliance, I might've been able to drive a wedge into it. A perfect plan. "They are the crazy ones!" I looked down at her, hoping my desperation could reach her.

In return, she lifted her hand at me with her palm facing up. I was confused by the gesture, but then I felt it. My entire body began to vibrate, and I started to feel lighter. It was easier to hold my weight against the tower, so much that it felt like I was lifting myself off from it. I was floating away from it! My helpless body struggled to find balance, and I flailed around like a cat as I floated away from the stonework, into an open area, before finally drifting into the grass.

Was that magic?

"What the hell kind of game are we playing?" I asked as I struggled to my feet.

"Young lady," the priestess said. "Where did you come from?"

I dusted myself off. I was defeated, and I knew it. "I started at the shore."

One of the riders whispered to her. She nodded him away. "So you are one of them."

I tilted my head at the accusation. I didn't know who they were, but it sounded important, so I took the gamble. I crossed my arms and planted my feet in the grass, as any hero should. "Of course I am!"

"Arrest her."

"What? No. No!" My eyes darted around at the group who were converging on me. "I'm not one of them!” It was too late. I was tackled and pinned down and taken captive. The handcuffs were cold against my skin. They brought me to the priestess as if she were the arbiter for my crimes, and I looked up at her with eyes of spite. "Fine. Kill me. This game is lame anyway."

She offered a smile, pointed her hand at my face, and snapped her fingers.