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Lubeana
Why am I here you ask, and more importantly who am I? Well the straight answer would be I am not too sure of both on them. You hear of all these stories of people waking up and finding that they cannot remember anything prior to the state and time that they are in now. I used to find this hilarious until one day it happened to me.
In fact it is rather ironic, I had always taken my memory for granted but doesn�t everyone. I had never realized my memories were so precious to me until I couldn�t remember anything, not who I was, who I had loved or who I had been loved by. I cannot explain how unnerving and frightening it is; the pure terror of not knowing where you had been born or who your parents are; is something indescribable.
Yet I say this but I had a guide, I had that leading star that helped me; little did I know how much he had aided me overall. Maybe it was pure chance that I stumbled through that park, into the derelict church and collapsed in front of the altar. I don�t think I would be here now or recovered as much of my memory as I have now.
I digress, but all of this is important I promise you, when I blather I seem to make more sense than in my usual dialect so to speak. It probably has something to do with that my memory releases more memories this way, or most likely I tend to babble quite a lot. Though I must start at the beginning, the start of everything, or from what I remember.
Well I am not sure how I got into that church, in fact why I was there I don�t know, but which ever way I was there. It seemed like a dream, you know when you can�t tell what is reality and what isn�t. It was exactly like that, I think it was early evening when I arrived at this abandoned holy ground. Though like most of the facts of this story I can�t be sure.
I remember lying on the cold stone floor of the chapel, the wind was whistling through the many broken windows, though it was not cold; it was a gentle autumnal breeze that has neither warmth nor bitter tendencies. I do not know how long I laid there, for the fact that I couldn�t remember anything hindered the fact, also I was without a watch.
I know I opened my eyes only to see that the moon was shining though one of the half broken windows, its beams half the cool brightness, the other blue and purples from the stained glass. I could hear the wind whistle against the doors making them whine in protest at being moved; the trees rustled making me feel as though they were whispering to each other.
I felt dizzy and sick, the creaking and the whispering trees made me feel as if I was moving, it was not a pleasant feeling. It is rather like when you wake up from a hangover and you lay in the bed totally still only to find that you are spinning. To try and lessen the feeling you close your eyes, yet you find its even worse; this is what it was like.
I knew I had to get up; I couldn�t stay there and rot; so I tried to get up. Only slowly though, I was not sure how my body would react to such a movement in the state I was in. At first I lay on my stomach and rested my hands on the floor in level with my shoulders. This would give me the best chance to get up off the floor; I pushed up with all my strength but I fell back down again. I was breathing hard, my head throbbed more and the spinning intensified.
Feeling that if I didn�t get up the next time: I would never get up, gave me a new burst of will backed up by energy. I say energy yet if fully revitalized it would be unnoticeable; either way it was energy and the only thing that would get me up from the stone floor. I pulled my legs under my stomach and tried to block out the pain of my throbbing head. My arms soon had my torso off the floor and finally I was sitting up, though my head felt as if it had just been battered with a hammer.
My eyes were not fully focused but I could make out the alter, the pulpit, and the vestry in the back of the church. The shadows seemed to move as I sat there, I wasn�t scared but there is always that niggling feeling the some was standing there, watching me. I am not the paranoid type; yet I cannot help but think that the state I was in heightened the hormone that made me think so.
The wind blew suddenly, causing the door to hit against the stone wall; it gave an almighty crash and I screamed. I am not sure why, but I know pure fear was pumping through my veins, I had never felt anything like it. I knew then with that strength that I could probably try to stand up; I did and amazingly I succeeded.
As I was standing, though in what fashion I cannot say. I had my arms wrapped around me almost as if to protect myself from these menacing shadows. I was shaking so hard that I felt that I would fall back to the ground at any moment, the energy was not enough to keep me up, but I did not fall; I would not.