I woke up lying in soft, red grass. It was so quiet.
The trees around me were dry and leafless, their bark cracked and faded they clearly haven't felt rain in centuries. Everything about the place felt… forgotten.
Off in the distance, I could see the ocean—if you could still call it that. The water was murky, a strange gray-green color that shimmered, there was oil floating on top. It didn't look safe.
A breeze passed through, not strong, but cold. And every time it came back, it carried something different—a faint whistle, a smell I couldn't place. Sometimes it reminded me of burned wood. Other times, something sour, like old metal or wet ropes.
To the east, I spotted what looked like an old gas station. It was falling apart, barely standing, with broken windows and red stains on the concrete. Near it sat a boat, cracked in half and filled with weeds. It must've been there for years.
To the west… the smell changed. Heavier. Worse. I didn't want to go that way. I caught glimpses of things on the shore, shapes that looked like bodies, old wires, tires, ropes, tools. I didn't get closer. I didn't want to.
My head felt foggy. Like I was trying to think underwater.
Every few seconds, my eyes would blur, and it took everything I had just to keep walking. I found myself going uphill, not even sure why, maybe just looking for a better view. Maybe hoping I'd see something that made sense.
But the higher I went, the more the air changed.
It smelled like rust. Like dust. Like spoiled cinnamon.
I reached the top, just barely… and then dizziness hit me like a wave. My legs gave out, and the world tilted sideways.
And I passed out.
When I woke up again, I was back where I started, at the bottom of the hill.
Same red grass. Same heavy silence. But now my head felt like it weighed a hundred pounds. The wind had picked up too. It came in sharp bursts, rattling through the dead trees like they were hollow.
I remembered everything from before. None of it made sense. Still didn't.
"Where am I?" I whispered. "What is this place?"
I looked to the west again.
More bodies than before.
Twice as many, maybe. I didn't count. The smell was worse too. Like something had been left out for too long and no one cared enough to clean it up.
Then I heard a voice.
It wasn't close, but it carried through the air like it was meant just for me. I turned slowly and saw a girl standing in the distance—dressed in a cowboy outfit, boots and all. She looked about my age, maybe a little older. Hard to tell from here.
I forced myself to get up, even though everything in me said not to.
"Hello?" I called out, my voice cracked and dry. "Who are you? Where are we?"
My lips felt like sandpaper. My body was caked in dirt. I hadn't even noticed what I was wearing until then, something loose, ragged. I didn't recognize it. It barely felt like me.
The girl didn't move. She stood just a few feet from the shore, near the edge of all those bodies. Then, without warning, she shouted loud.
"STOP!"
It wasn't a scream, but it cut through the air like one. Her voice changed for a second, like something underneath it slipped out. Her mouth looked… off. For just a moment. Like her teeth didn't belong.
I froze. But my feet didn't.
They kept moving, like I wasn't in control. I tried to stop, tried to plant myself in place—but I kept walking toward her.
"Please," I asked again, quieter this time. "Who are you?"
She didn't answer.
Just screamed that word again.
"STOP!"
I kept walking. And then, without warning, she moved, insanely fast. Faster than anything should in a place like this.
She lunged. Everything faded. Dark again.
I woke up again.
This time… I didn't feel much of anything. Like I was floating inside my own skin.
Now I stood in a field of soft green grass, the kind you'd see in dreams. The trees were full for once, leaves gently still, not a breeze in sight. There was no wind, no headache, no dizziness. Everything was quiet.
I almost forgot how loud things used to be.
In the distance, I saw someone stand up. A boy.
He looked… familiar. Blonde hair. Pale skin. Wore a clean white shirt tucked into brown pants, boots laced tight. He looked like me!
He just stood there for a moment, looking around, blinking like he'd woken up from a nap.
And then people showed up.
Dozens of them. Maybe more. They didn't walk over, they were just there, suddenly. Whispering at him, laughing, pointing, and pushing.
I watched from where I layed. I didn't move. I couldn't.
They mocked him. Shoved him. Surrounded him in a circle.
He fought back. At first, just pushing away. Then swinging so hard they're heads cranked back. Then punching. Kicking. Screaming more like screeching. Over and over and over again.
It went on for a while. Long enough that I stopped trying to count the minutes.
When he finally stood alone again, he was covered in blood, his own, theirs, I couldn't tell. It soaked into the grass. Stained it red.
And then more people came.
It just kept happening. Different faces, but the same outcome. More fighting. More blood. More bodies layed there just… lifeless.
Days passed like seconds. Or maybe seconds passed like days. I couldn't tell anymore.
The field changed. The soft green grass turned crimson. The trees wilted and bent. The air started to burn.
Some people tried to escape in a boat that sat on the far edge of the land.
He sank it.
Others ran to the gas station that once stood quiet in the east. He set it on fire.
Some tried to climb the hill for safety. He followed, and filled it with chemicals. Mold. Something sharp in the air that made it hard to breathe.
Eventually, there was nothing left.
No more people. No more places to hide. Just a red wasteland where something peaceful used to be.
And the bodies? He dragged them all to the west. Where I was. He stacked them. One by one. Until I couldn't see the sun anymore.
He didn't say anything. He just stood there. Eerily reminiscent of something.
And the worst part? He looked like me.