No Name for Now

I removed the violin from my shoulder and stood up, holding it in my right hand, the bow in the left, and looked around. This place was bugging me.
How did I get here? Have I ever...

A pain cut trough me. It was instantaneous, sharp as a knife, sharper than anything you could ever feel. And almost as fast as it came, it disappeared. But not completely.
I dropped to my knees, freeing my hands of anything I was holding in them, whatever it was, and looked for the lingering burning sensation.
But nothing was there.
First I pulled my sleeves up, rolled my jeans as high as I could, looked at my face in the small mirror I always keep with me.
I saw nothing. But I felt it.
I pulled off my shirt, letting the cold air of a wintry morning hit my skin, and looked at myself. My stomach was clean, so was my back. Pulling my pants down, everything - stripping naked, but nothing was there.
Yet, I couldn't ignore the feeling that started taking over me.
I was burning, something was burning me, but there was nothing.

It started snowing.
The cold flakes fell on my skin and slowly melted, the water cooling me down, relieving the pain.
It felt as if I was standing there for hours, although it was only several minutes.

All wet and cold, I dressed back up, picked my things, and slowly began my way back home.
I blurrily strode trough the forest, back in the direction I thought I came from, Trying to hold myself together.

I don't know how, but I stood in front of my house, the snow still falling down, and the sun softly warming my back with it's dim presence.

I entered my house, oblivious to what ever was going on, and headed straight to my room.

And I remember nothing more.