The air is so dank I find it hard to breathe. I can hear some kind of skittering sounds around me, hidden but enough so that it makes my skin crawl.
All I am wearing are shorts and a vest, and I feel as if I have slept a thousand years. There isn’t much light, but what there is I can see lots of cubicles, mostly empty, but a few with broken glass, like the one I seem to have lived in.
Was I born here? I don’t even know my name, if I even have one.
Slowly I know I am beginning to feel. I can feel the sensation of the slight rush of air against the hairs on my arms, the brush of some kind of presence on my face. It feels cool, but right somehow. The floor is cold and wet, as if we are underground, beneath a giant lake. I wonder that because I can hear the faint tapping of water, dripping onto something hard nearby.
I am cold. I must find warmth somehow soon. My stomach feels empty, I need food, but I have no memories of the last time I ate. At least there must be water around, but is it clean? I have no idea, but I guess I should search and see.
There it is, that skittering around again, like spiders crawling all over the place. Are they hidden in the shadows? What does it mean? Am I safe?
I don’t think I am.
I shall go searching…