The Damned Seven

All I could feel was soft wind. The rush of the ocean was vehement in my ears, obnoxious and redundant. I tried to lift my head that seemed to weigh a ton, compared to the sand between my fingers that seemed weightless. Fluid. For a second I wanted to stay in the warmth of it. But it had no warmth, just a light sensation. I was leaning on my elbows and knees and saw this beach for what it was; filled with nothing but a lifeless gray. I tried to remember how I got here, but the only thing in my mind was the colorless tones of the whole scene. I was able to lift myself up and shook my knotted hair out of my face. Then I looked at my hair. It had color. The dull reddish brown it had grown to be over the years. My skin, my tattered clothes, it was almost alive in this two toned world. I searched over the horizon that just grew darker, for anything that might have resembled life. A beam of light, a boat, anything. But nothing showed. No heat, no cold. The more and more I observed the beach, the more unsettling it was to be there. I hugged myself gently, as if some kind of ephemeral chill had raced through. That feeling got worse with every step I took. I headed west, where I saw gray mountains that towered overhead. I didn't know why, but I felt that it was the right path to take. Strange, since nothing here seemed to have the promise of a way home. A home that I couldn't even remember. I stopped. Where had I been before? I tried to think but thinking got me nowhere. Walking. That's all I was focused on, as if in a trance. Walking was my only way out of this strange vacant seaside.

Vegetation and rocks. My only companions up this offensively long path. I kicked the rocks, annoyed. I never gave much thought to being alone. Or at least, I don't think so. Its not a problem its just unexpectedly dreary. Shouldn't being alone be a good thing? Well, whatever. I hugged myself tighter, almost babyish as I saw a flight of stairs cut cleanly from the stone. Maybe someone lived here, I thought. Whoever lives here should know something about where I'm going, right? Because the future cant be left up to me. I remember that much. Nothing concerning my time left breathing can be left up to me. But when I tried to walk up the stairway it was like some kind of force was trying to push me back down. I pushed against it as much as my weakened body would let me and I could feel the first step with my foot. I pushed myself up the stairs, but when I finally got to the top, it felt like I was holding my breath or suffocating and I let out a huge sigh of....grief? I didn't know. All I knew was that I felt this weight on my chest that felt like unbearable grief and self- loathing. It was choking me. I fell on my knees and clutched at my heart, trying to breath. I needed to get out of here, I thought. I started crawling toward what seemed like a small stone chapel of sorts. I crawled faster and faster and when I got to the wooden doors, the feeling of grief had died away. What was that? I've never felt such sadness, such overwhelming anguish before ever. Well might as well see whats in this chapel. Maybe now I could get answers.

When I looked inside, my first impression of the place was that whoever was here really liked crosses. They were everywhere. Black crosses, broken crosses.....bloody crosses. Damn, I thought, what the Hell is this? There were severl depressions in the center of the floor. The very last depression was filled with water. Again, colorless. Just gray. But whenn I looked closer, I could have sworn I that I saw a severed arm float to the surface and sink again. I found ore stairs on the left side and ran. Well, I guess now I know I'm a total wuss.