If The Broom Fits - Chapter 1
What. In. The. Ever-loving. Fuck.
I must’ve had one helluva time last night if the pounding in my head is any indication. My entire body aches like I went one too many rounds with a boxer - and lost. Taking stock of every ache and pain, I’m startled to realize everything feels...heightened. More intense somehow. It’s like all of my senses are misfiring, making every breath, every throb and sting, every small movement send tiny pulses of electricity zinging across my body. That can’t be good, can it?
I try to swallow, but it’s a struggle. My mouth is dry and gritty and tastes like ass. Sweaty, dirty ass. Not that I’ve ever licked dirty ass. Though I wouldn’t be opposed to licking a curvy, clean ass. The image of an alluring heart-shaped mole on a nicely sculpted ass cheek pops into my head.
Wait, what? That’s it. I’m never drinking again. Ever.
Bringing my arm up, I run my hand down my face, and even my skin feels hypersensitive. Brushing my fingers over my eyelid, it’s like I can feel every ridge and groove and detail of my fingertip. I can suddenly distinguish each individual blade of grass as it tickles the back of my neck. A wetness pools around my feet, along with the distinct grittiness of sand and the coolness of damp pebbles.
Where in the hell did I pass out?
My hands drop to tangle in the long grass beside me, and I use that simple touch to ground myself before opening my eyes, concerned about what sort of shit I might have gotten into.
As everything slowly begins to come into focus, my gaze locks on the stars twinkling in the clear night sky. Each one seems brighter than it should, closer and clearer. I look to my left, and the lights on the bridge above me are almost blinding in their intensity. Quickly shutting my eyes again, I take a deep breath to calm myself. It could be worse, right? I could be staring at a set of gleaming silver gates nestled in soft, fluffy whiteness, just beyond which are isles of clouds with a river of light flowing between them. Or a land full of screams, where every surface is made from black rock and the only light is from the lava that oozes upwards with a reddish glow from the ground to the ceiling high above.
Ok, that is oddly specific. What in the actual hell?
Opening my eyes again, I scan my surroundings. The roaring rapids I hear are actually just a wide, slowly flowing creek, its water gently trickling over the rocks at the shore...and my feet, apparently. There’s an owl hooting and car horns blaring somewhere off in the distance, but they all sound like they’re right next to me.
I release another breath and instantly regret it. My mouth smells like ass too. Other scents begin to filter in. The smell of earth - dirt and grass and flowers. Bluebonnets, maybe? How the hell I know that, I have no idea, but it’s so strong I hold my breath to avoid the overwhelming assault of odors.
Deciding I need to figure this shit out, I sit up. My head pounds, and I reluctantly take a few more deep breaths to get the world to stop tilting on its axis. At least I’m wearing clothes - a blue, button-down shirt that’s shockingly unrumpled despite my apparent fun last night, a pair of black trousers with the hems slightly damp from the water at my feet, and tan suspenders.
Where are my shoes and socks?
Nothing around me looks familiar, but I feel like I’ve been here before. Each side of the creek is heavily lined with trees. The grass slowly giving way to rocky banks edging the water. Sitting next to a large pedestrian bridge, I’m flooded with this feeling of peace and love. Which doesn’t make one damn bit of sense.
“Where the fuck am I?” I ask the night, my voice hoarse like it hasn’t been used in years. Unsurprisingly, I get no response.
Then I’m struck with another thought. Who the hell am I?
My heart starts to pound, panic rising.
“Knox. That’s my name. I’m Knox…” I trail off, coming up blank. I don’t know my last name.
As I attempt to keep the ensuing dread at bay, I sift through my memories only to realize I have none. Nothing. I don’t know how old I am, where I came from, or what happened to me.
Bringing my hand up, I slowly rub the center of my chest. There’s a pounding there that I thought was my heart’s erratic beating thanks to the panic attack I’m somehow managing to stave off, but it’s more than that. I flatten my hand, feeling the thump thump of my heartbeat, but somewhere deeper there’s a tug, this invisible pull telling me I need to get up. I need to go...somewhere.
I should probably be worried about finding food, and maybe some shoes, but the tug is growing in intensity the longer I sit here. Those heightened senses I was experiencing seem to be lessening somewhat, the power pooling somewhere inside me instead. Gathering strength and morphing into a powerful draw that is insisting I follow it. But where? And why?
Standing up slowly, the world spins for only a second before I’m steady enough to turn around. I stumble up the embankment, through the trees, over rocks and roots, until I’m stepping out onto a sidewalk next to an empty street. I glance left and see nothing but more trees and a dark road leading to God only knows where. To my right, I see a well-lit area a few blocks down along with more traffic, both people and cars, and I’m suddenly overwhelmed with feelings. Happiness, excitement, jealousy, sadness. So many emotions slam into me it’s almost crippling. I stagger slightly and look down to find my palm resting on my chest again, the tug there starting to physically ache. I should head toward the people, someone who could help me, but the tether linking me to some mysterious pull is adamant that I go left, into the uncertainty that lies down that desolate road.
I glance right again, my belly rumbling and feet throbbing after walking through rough rocks and sticks. A thought strikes, and I quickly check my pockets but find no wallet or identification. I have no idea who I am or where I’ll go, and I’ve got no money to get me there.
Deciding to listen to my stomach rather than some weird feeling I don’t know if I can trust, I head toward the sounds of life. As I approach the busy street up ahead, I slow my pace and pause in the shadow of the nearest tree, suddenly realizing something is seriously wrong here. There’s a large crowd on the corner and music filtering out the door which is open to allow the long line of people inside.
Women dressed in short dresses and thigh-high, heeled boots laugh and talk while waiting outside. The men are in pants that flare out widely at the bottom and tight button-down shirts which are unbuttoned down to their chests. Their hair is as long as the women’s, and they run their fingers through it while they stand by, smoking cigarettes and scanning the growing line. But why is everyone surrounded by this hazy fog? Everyone is encased in colors, muted pinks and purples and yellows, shades of blue, and hints of red. It’s like someone placed a rainbow over the crowd, and they’re all swimming in it, causing the colors to swirl and mix.
Those feelings I’ve been experiencing have only grown stronger with every step I take toward the group in front of me. Throw in some frustration and anger, desire and despair, and it’s too much for my fragile mind right now. I can feel it all, and no matter what I do, I can’t seem to shut it off. I grab my head with both hands, trying to get it all to stop, but it simply grows stronger with each person that walks up to get in line.
Risking another look at the crowd of people then down at my own outfit that seems drastically out of place, I know with a curious certainty that I don’t belong here. I belong...somewhere else. Somewhen else.