. The grass felt like a comforting hug even if the ground below smelt of rotting corpses. Bones of creatures that were supposed to live only in fairy tales. Mangled and twisted, long gashes torn through bone and flesh. The dirt's cold, greasy body holding what remains, hostage for the bugs that thrive on death. Grasping at soft hair, tugging, ripping. The scalp burned and bled. The blood on my hands was not mine, it was that creature's, whose body became unrecognizable after being ripped to shreds by my pale hands, too small to be weapons but, somehow strong enough to break bones.

I am no better than the monster I killed just to live.

I am a monster.

How could this have happened?

How could I kill another living being?

How did I get here, where is here?

why?

Why??

WHy???

WHY?!!???

'Breathe.'

Yes...yes...

I felt my lungs expand and contract, slow and purposeful. I need to go. Staying any longer will result in further breakdowns. I have to move or others will catch up to me, after all they can smell the blood.

Picking up my lean body and dragging my feet to move forward. Stumbling over chunks of bone and parts of organs. I moved. Even when I felt a satchel bag I don't remember being there, banging against my thigh or my heels slipped and dug into mud. Even as a low hung branch of dark cedar scarred my pale shoulder with more marks, I just have to keep walking. I can't be found by them, after all my life only just started again.

I don't wanna die. I really don't wanna die. I CAN'T DIE HERE.

*

My mind's consciousness was unfocused and hazy. I felt my body drop after tripping. After sitting up, I looked at what I assumed tripped me. It was a grave. How come I didn't notice it before. Was I that unfocused.

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Looking around in confusion, I noticed that there were quite a few of them.

'A graveyard.' I hear my conscious whisper in a baritone voice that felt like it could shake the ground. Although I am quite sure the average human does not have a voice that's different from their own talking to them, I feel this would be the worst time to worry why I do.

I walked up to the grave I tripped on, lightly dusting off any dirt I might have kicked up when I fell.

[Clarita]

|mother to John and foster mother of (#°% #@π|

|may you rest in peace|

As I read the tomb stone, the last name stuck out. (#°% #@π. That can't be a real name, how would you even pronounce something so glitched and warped.

'C#°% H@n' it rang, but still sounded incorrect.

'Ch*I #an' and again still as incomprehensible as before, one last time it repeated, almost screaming.

'CHOI HAN'

It hurt, the voice rang so loudly, bouncing around my head, as a migraine developed. The pain felt as if it was splitting my head with a knife, a very dull knife. Hacking away at each layer of skin and bone until it reached my brain. I felt the ground before I knew what had happened, and then the little light was taken as well.

*

For the first time in what may have months to maybe a year I dreamt. Of life before I ever saw this desolate forest, when I was joking about with my siblings or reading to my little niece and nephews. Of baking with my twin and partying at friends houses. Of slow nights dancing with my partner. Of the lovely and lively kids I took care of at the daycare. But never my name. Watching the scenes felt like I was finally at peace. However, I noticed the edges started charring, and soon after I watched fire engulf my sight before it vanished. Leaving me in a dark blue space.

"Hello." said the voice. The one that rings in my head. It continues, "Are you well?" it sounds so sweet and loving, disembodied as it may be, I could imagine a small boy with dusty blue hair smiling while saying just that. But..

I don't know a boy with such an appearance. I couldn't stop myself from spiraling at that thought.

Where would such an image come from? It obviously doesn't fit the voice I hear.

WHO IS THAT??

"Would you be declined to believe that I am you, or rather the person whose body you reside in." It said, almost childishly.

My body is not mine...

The body I've been in is not mine.

Hesitant, I speak.

"This body is yours?" to my own..no, from what I could hear, I sounded meek and scared. Why did I sound scared.

"Yes, technically. However it's yours now. A fair trade I would say." It, no, he said.

What does he mean? What did he get in return for his body?

"I just wanted to give you a heads up. This body of yours has what is called an 'ancient power'. The future and past should come to you. In flashes or dreams. only on occasion will it appear in the blank notebook. You'll find it in the satchel bag." He paused, then continued in a lighter tone, "good luck. I applied for a job in the Henetiuse manor as a gardener... However, you should probably change before you get there." I could hear little giggles that sounded bizarre paired with a deeper voice.

I was shocked to say the least. Why did all the gibberish he was spouting sound so fa...mil....iar.