The Inner Truth

The ground under me is damp.

My head hurts and my eyes burn when we try to open them. Where am I? I try to think of how we got here but all I feel is the pain ravaging my body and mind. Somewhere in the distance, I hear birds chirping their welcome to the awakening day.

If only they knew.

I lie still, on my back, staring up through pine bows at the bluing sky, not daring to move. Every hitch of my chest as I shallowly breath causes my brain to throb inside my skull, blinding me with white pain. Slowly, I try to lift my head, to survey the area that surrounds me. I can hear someone moaning, I think that it is me. As blood rushes from my head to my toes, I am over come with the swelling of sickness; I can feel bile churning deep in my stomach. My head slams back against the ground sending spasms of pain through the back of my eyes like red hot sewing needles. I can hear someone screaming in the distance. Or is that me? My face is moist from last nights dew and sends chills down my spine as a hollow wind drifts over head. This eases the needles and I slip back into unconsciousness.

How did I get here and where exactly is here? Wait, I've said this all before, haven't I? Yes. We are still on the cold, damp ground. This must have seemed like a good place to lie down last night. Last night...

Slowly, but persistently, the black of the night sky has melted into the deep purples and crimson blues of early sunrise. I'm sure that any other time I might have stared in wonder at the beauty of a new day, but for now it is a pest. Rising as a reminder that everyone must face themselves a new, everyday of our lives. Mocking me... Knowing the secrets of the night before, taunting us with its knowledge, just waiting for me to ask it why I am laying in this thick fog, watching the sky blue and the wind bend the tree tops.

Those damn birds again!

They sound closer now. They've moved in to mock me too. Their shrill songs piercing my eardrums, drilling tiny holes into my skull.