First Page
[Just the typical waking-up of a young boy.
Autor stretches stiffly with a yawn muffled by a pillow, feeling around blindly on a bedside stand within arm's length for something that he does find - a pair of glasses. Apparently too distracted by the task at hand, both forcing himself to get up in the morning without anything to look forward to and finding his specs, to realize that the bed doesn't feel like his own.
He sits up and doesn't open his eyes until the things are on.]
Uaaahhh... What? I can hardly see... I cleaned these as thoroughly as I could afford the time for last night...
[He takes them off with a small and groggy moan of irritation and starts rubbing the lenses on the corner of his blanket. Which causes him to focus on them. Which causes him to take a good look at their size and shape.]
These... they aren't mine.
[And then he looks up.
That's not all that's not his.
He realizes that everything, the layout and color of the room, the quality of the blankets, everything looks and feels nothing like anything in his room.
Since they're all he has to work with, he puts the glasses back on, squinting through them as he stumbles out of bed and darts throughout the room, "examining" everything in it.]
...My... my books are gone... all of them. And my watch... and my glasses...
My uniform isn't in the closet, what - what are these clothes?
And outside -
This... this is NOT Goldcrown.
This isn't home...
Fakir, what did you write...?
Or... no. His powers are far too weak for him to write me into an entire different location or alter the town this much. Or my perceptions in case this is all just a hallucination...
Ohh, god, what's going on...?
Autor stretches stiffly with a yawn muffled by a pillow, feeling around blindly on a bedside stand within arm's length for something that he does find - a pair of glasses. Apparently too distracted by the task at hand, both forcing himself to get up in the morning without anything to look forward to and finding his specs, to realize that the bed doesn't feel like his own.
He sits up and doesn't open his eyes until the things are on.]
Uaaahhh... What? I can hardly see... I cleaned these as thoroughly as I could afford the time for last night...
[He takes them off with a small and groggy moan of irritation and starts rubbing the lenses on the corner of his blanket. Which causes him to focus on them. Which causes him to take a good look at their size and shape.]
These... they aren't mine.
[And then he looks up.
That's not all that's not his.
He realizes that everything, the layout and color of the room, the quality of the blankets, everything looks and feels nothing like anything in his room.
Since they're all he has to work with, he puts the glasses back on, squinting through them as he stumbles out of bed and darts throughout the room, "examining" everything in it.]
...My... my books are gone... all of them. And my watch... and my glasses...
My uniform isn't in the closet, what - what are these clothes?
And outside -
This... this is NOT Goldcrown.
This isn't home...
Fakir, what did you write...?
Or... no. His powers are far too weak for him to write me into an entire different location or alter the town this much. Or my perceptions in case this is all just a hallucination...
Ohh, god, what's going on...?