Aiden's eyes shot open, but he could see nothing. He tried breathing, but an unknown liquid seeped into his nostrils, causing him to gurgle in agitation and jolt to a full wake.
However, he still couldn't see.
The surroundings were dark—too dark to make out a single thing. Helplessly, he pushed his hand upwards, attempting to feel his way out of this place. But it met a barrier.
Splintered wood pierced his knuckles as he realised what he was touching.
A wooden container?
Ignoring the sharp stinging pain, he ran his hands about himself, sensing a rough, cold surface underneath his palm.
It was definitely wood.
Aiden began to struggle. His body felt moist, and it reeked of a terrible stench. Shortly after, he realised his position.
He was submerged in an obscure, smelly liquid. And the wooden container trapped him in place.
Aiden could no longer bear the assault to his nostrils. His fingers bent, and his palm curved into a fist. He was in distress. Making the best use of his limited space, he hurled the fist above him, letting out a loud bang.
"Tch!"
Futile pain.
His fingers went numb from the force he had put into the attack, and the splinter lodged deeper into his index finger. Yet, the invisible ceiling did not budge.
Aiden decided to reason calmly. The walls by his sides appeared weaker than the top, perhaps due to the absorbed moisture. Therefore, it made sense to try breaking through from there. Luckily, there was extra width between his sides and the walls, granting him enough space to ram his elbow into it.
He did so. And it worked out well for him.
As his elbow forced its way through the wood, Aiden could feel a cold air rush in, signifying his success. He twisted his arm, rotating and pushing to widen the hole. That also went as planned.
Finally, Aiden began to see hope. He could escape.
He fully extended his limb, digging further into the gap. His arm was impaled all around by sharp wooden pieces that felt like several needles, but the pain was too insignificant to faze him. Right now, he was more focused on leaving this cramped space that trapped him.
BANG!
Three slats of wood broke asunder as Aiden smote the weakened walls with his shoulder. His eyes rolled over in the direction of the light peeking in. And there, under the moonlight, was a sandy plain.
Aiden didn't bother with the other walls of the container. Instead, he rolled over to the open side, allowing the liquid to flow out into the new environment. The crimson stream met the ground, and it sank into the rocky layers beneath.
Aiden took in a breath of fresh air before surveying his area.
As he lay underneath the proud crescent moon that arched elegantly over a cloud, one thought surfaced in his mind.
What is this place?
The skies were clothed with nightly darkness, but an unmissable tinge of red lurked behind its veil. When Aiden looked closely, he realised the strange, scarlet light had the form of countless rays—like that of the sun.
Those rays came from another celestial body above. Up in the sky, a sphere that shouldn't be there.
Is that…Earth?
Indeed, it was. At least, that was what it looked like. A large, blue globe—though not perfectly spherical, as it was partially blended into the void called space. Looking at it, so high and so far, while resting on a soil that he thought to be earthly…..was quite a startle for Aiden.
"Where am I?"
Instantly, Aiden rose to his feet. But a momentary migraine stabbed at his head, causing him to stumble and fall..
For the next 4 seconds, he remained there, with his head buried in the ground, and without moving an inch. The sudden headache had caught him unaware. And this form of pain was rather…new to him.
Only when he was sure that it had subsided, did he raise his head to reassess his situation.
But before he could, Aiden realised that he had ignored one, crucial detail.
"Who am I?"
He knew his name to be 'Aiden', but he had no memories, and hence, no explanation as to why he thought himself as a bearer of that name. He recognised everything he saw; the moon, the sky, the soil, and even the distinct appearance of Earth.
Yet, he couldn't understand why he knew these things…
Aiden was puzzled. But only for a while.
When he looked down to inspect himself—his naked self, something caught his eye.
It was the very thing that he had busted out from. A large, black, wooden structure with a bumpy texture that reflected its deteriorating condition. It had a good length—one that was enough to contain him when he laid flat, but its height and breadth wasn't as impressive.
Aiden recalled his experience as he examined the object. It didn't take long before he realised what it was.
A coffin.
Why was he in a coffin?
Lying over the base of the casket, were several patches of the unknown fluid that lingered after his departure. Most of it had drained away, while several droplets trickled down the edge of the coffin's open side.
It was the same fluid that rolled down his skin with each movement. Aiden squatted and inspected it closely. He dipped his index and middle fingers into it, scooping a reasonable amount before bringing it close to his nose.
The smell alone wasn't enough to identify its nature. But from the texture, colour, and viscosity, he knew what it was.
Blood. Remnant blood.
Aiden didn't bother questioning why he knew that as well. There were even more subjects of concern.
First of all, Aiden felt really cold. A terrible wind was blowing over the plain, raising dust and shivers—shivers from him alone. He considered crawling back into the coffin that he came from, and sheltering there until the temperature had increased by at least a few degrees, or until the breeze had gone on an hourly vacation. But then, he remembered the pungent smell, and immediately changed his mind.
When Aiden began wondering whether he was fated to freeze to death, his eyes met what he would have loved to describe as 'a saviour in dire time to my dire needs'.
A black cloth—tattered, but better than nothing. It was a black cloak, but it looked more like a funeral cloak. Aiden could only appreciate its broad size, as he greedily snatched the cloth resting by the corner of the coffin. In a matter of seconds, he had covered himself.
The results were pleasing. His body felt warmer from the surprisingly dry cloth that hugged his skin, and from the hoodie that protected his head.
Aiden sighed.
Now I can explore.
The wind continued lashing out in waves, stirring up small dust clouds as it went. It was still cold—but only mildly. At least, it was manageable.
What shall I find out first? My location or my identity?
His answer was subjective.
My identity
"My name is Aiden." He muttered. "I don't know why my name is 'Aiden' but I am oddly confident that it is."
It was the same confidence that an average person would have if he or she were questioned about his or her name. Perhaps even more.
Aiden glanced back at the coffin, peering towards the centre, where the largest blood puddle could be found. There, he caught a glimpse of himself.
Long, jet-black hair cascaded down his face and smoothly past his shoulders, framing a pale, almost porcelain face. He had high cheekbones, a straight narrow nose, and a sharp jawline. There, in that bloody mirror, two bright red irises stared back at him.
And for a moment, even just a moment, those eyes scared him…
He withdrew slightly.
Did I hallucinate something?
At least, he had now registered his appearance. That was a vital, major step in answering the critical question of his identity.
Seeing that he came out of a coffin, Aiden wondered if he had died, and he struggled to remember a past life, but failed. No matter how hard he ransacked his memories, all that came to him was a space as blank as the starless sky.
"Sigh…"
The mysteries kept on increasing the more he inquired. Aiden nearly felt overwhelmed but his curiosity was greater than his bewilderment. After pondering for a while, he came to a conclusion.
He would inspect the casket further for any valuable information.
But when he lowered his head to look, he found a strange marking poking at the lower left corner of his blind spot. Intrigued, he traced it to the neck of his cloak, where he discovered an even more astonishing thing.
"English." He muttered. "It's in English."
He pulled at the neck of his cloak, desperate to see what the marking was without removing the cloth. After a little struggle, he gained a better sight of it.
It was written in crimson ink—perhaps blood. Two words. A message.
Aiden squinted. The writing wasn't very pleasing to read, so much that it felt like a tribulation for his eyes. There was this haphazard font style that made it appear like a cutout straight from a low-budget horror film, and an opacity so high that it was better left as nonexistent.
Oh?
The sentence was surprising.
It read; FIND ME.