Cold.

Nothing but cold. A heart that lays frozen in its place behind ribs coated in frost as clear as crystal water. Wrapped in a cocoon of brittle skin, ivory white and smooth as silk, stretched out like a piece of canvas across dead fingers, ready to burst free any moment. The skin tears as muscles tighten and bone grinds against bone.

Ancient tendons strain as they move for the first time in ages.

The pain is unbearable. With each movement the pale skin strains to its breaking point, blunt knives about to cut it open as they slide across the inside. Silver mist rises from dead lips, cold and grey as the forgotten moons of ancient days. Lungs shrivelled into sacks of ash and nothingness.

Slowly the heart ticks, one beat per millennia, dark blood pumping through the veins.

The heart beats faster, moving away from millennia and into centuries. One heartbeat per year. One per month, followed by day. Something returns from beyond, entering through the frozen skin and into the blue heart. Something warm.

The body opened its eyes.

It saw nothing but white and grey and black shadows encircling it from above, sailing across the waves of crimson clouds. It had never beheld such beauty, or such tragedy. Somewhere deep down, the body wanted to touch it, to spread out its thin, bony fingers and let their barrow surface slide across the sea of blood.

A soul beyond light bereaved of life, forbidden from death. Forever locked inside an infinite cell, never to awaken, never to sleep. Shackled within the endless chains of despair. Chains which ever tighten, never breaks. No escape and no relief, torment unending and the end of torment. Shallow waters, deep and dark.

The body saw the sun.

Then darkness once again took it, whisked it away from the quivering mass of bones and ice, until nothing remained. Nothing but oblivion.

“MATTIAS!”

Anton shot straight up from the ground, shouting at the top of his lungs, but instantly started coughing as something in the air made its way into his throat. It was dry like sand, and it prevented him from breathing properly.

His throat rustled and gargled as he tried to gasp for air, wheezing and cackling madly. More of the unknown substance shot into his mouth and got sucked up his nose. In a fit of desperate panic, Anton tried to roll over on his stomach, but as he did, he was instantly covered by a grey cloud of more of the strange sand.

On his knees, he planted his palms against the ground and kept on coughing uncontrollably. For just a few seconds, he managed to stop and try to gather his thoughts. He got a nose full of the strange sand yet again as some particles drifted across his face, and he suddenly got very aware of the smell.

Dirt, fire, burning trees and charcoal. It was strong, and it burned his nostrils like a raging flame. It made its way further up his nose before sneaking down his throat and settling deep down in his chest, like a lump of smouldering embers.

Unable to hold it back, he started heaving yet again, and a few seconds later, a bitter, dark sludge escaped his mouth. He let it run freely before spitting out the last few drops, sour and strong.

He tilted his head down and pressed his chin against the top of his ribs, pressed it down as hard as he could. He clamped his eyes shut and opened his mouth, gritted his teeth in a silent roar. It took him a few seconds to realize that it was in fact, not silent, and the screaming that slowly filled his ears came out of his own throat.

There was nothing else to do, and there was no use trying to hold it back. For some reason, he wanted to shout and scream until his voice gave up completely. He wanted to cry, to laugh and to panic, all at the same time. He wanted his mom; he wanted her to give him a pacifier, or some steak and mashed potatoes, washed down with pizza. He wanted to play with his toys with the other kids, and he wanted to drink and fuck.

Anton’s head was spinning, his thoughts changing by the second, unable to stay focused. Everything in him was in an uproar and wanted to escape and run away in different locations. He never even noticed how he tossed himself over on the side and rolled unto his back, still screaming, his mind twisting around itself into a web of convoluted thoughts and endless emotions. His mind told him he was about to die, then that he was just born, and then back to dying again.

“Sluta!” No pain registered in him when he started smashing his hands into his face. “Sluta, jag kan inte, det går inte! Fucking stop!”

Dust and smoke wiped up around his flailing body as he slammed the back of his head into the floor, trying to break it, to make it all stop. He couldn’t stand it anymore, the maelstrom of madness ravaging through his head, making him go through every memory and very emotion he’d ever felt. It ripped his skull in pieces, but kept him alive through the pain.

Anton saw his brother before him, even though he wasn’t even there

“Döda mig!” Anton shouted at the visage of his brother. “Please, just end it!”

“Your time is not yet come, sweet brother. Endure. ”

Anton once again felt the world spin around him, but he refused to let it take him. Despite the barrage of pain and emotions, one small part of him still fought to stay conscious, pushing away the vortex of darkness surrounding him. His brother was gone, and he suddenly felt a need to move. Without understanding how, his body moved on its own and stood up, swaying slightly. His head still spun around, but his body moved on its own, like something else was controlling it.

His body stumbled forward, almost falling over with each step, staggering around like a drunkard. Through the haze of pain, Anton could see quick glimpses of what looked to be concreted pillars, broken down the middle, and windows boarded up from the inside.

A door came before him, rusted into oblivion and covered in what looked to be cobwebs and filth. The next second, his body slammed into the door with a loud bang, and it swung open on creaking hinges. Instantly he felt his skin freeze as a cold wind hit him straight on and threw him off balance, and his knees bent underneath him.

Trying to struggle, he fell forwards and hit his knees hard against the ground, followed shortly by his elbows. Back in the same position as he’d been in earlier, he finally felt something within him give way, and the pain slowly subsided. His vision stabilised and his limbs relaxed.

It was over, finally. Anton took a few deep breaths to calm himself before he looked up. What he saw made his already strained heart stop dead.

Snow.

Nothing but snow as far as the eye could see. White and pure, a cold canvas covering the world before him. Upon seeing it, he became aware of the cold itself, and felt it creep underneath his clothes and hold him tight. He began shuddering slightly.

“H-hello?” He tried to call out, but his voice came out as no more than a strained whisper. “Is anyone there? Hello…” White mist shot out from between his lips as he spoke.

His fingers started to numb from the snow, and he forced himself up and backwards, instead sitting on his knees and shins in the shallow snow. As he looked around himself to get some idea of where he was, he started rubbing his hands together to keep them warm.

Looking down on his body, he saw a grey matter covering his coat and pants, undoubtedly the substance he earlier thought to be sand. He brushed it off of him.

“Ashes…”

The cold air he breathed made his throat sore and dry, and even his eyes started to feel dry, like sand, and it became difficult to blink properly. Slowly he forced himself up on his feet, swaying slightly as he rose up. With eyes dry as ice, he tried to scan the environment around him, and saw that the snow wasn’t all there was to it.

Beyond the layers of white, he saw buildings and houses varying in colours of grey, white and black. He saw smashed windows, broken doors and shattered walls. Not a single building close by was intact or unharmed, and they all looked abandoned. Upon seeing this, he also noted the debris on the ground, partially covered in snow. He now saw bricks and planks dotting the street in front of him, among other things.

“Where the hell am I…?”

Anton took a few fumbling steps forward, not knowing where he was supposed to go. All he knew was that he had to move and get out of here, before the cold became too much for him. He’d seen a lot of cold winters through his life, but nothing could ever have prepared him for this. It was a different cold, not like the winters back home. He couldn’t quite figure out what it was, but something felt off about the snow and the chilly air, and he didn’t like it.

Not that he was dressed for such cold weather either. He grabbed his jacket and zipped it close, then put his arms around himself to keep at least a little bit of the warmth in. Shivering, he kept on following the street, the only sounds being that of his shoes against the snow, his jagged breathing and eventually, his clattering teeth.

Building after building passed him by, each and every one broken and shattered. Through the gritty windows he caught glimpses of metal bars, swaying in the breeze, and within dark doorways he saw the outlines of stairwells and more doors.

What the hell had happened to this place? It looked like a warzone, like bombs had fallen from the skies and burned it all. For a moment, he wondered if he’d ended up in one of the many war-torn countries in Europe, but he quickly pushed that thought away. The snow was enough to tell him that he wasn’t, and that would just ask the question of how he ended up on so far away across the globe.

No, not Europe. The U.S? Russia? No, not possible either, and to his knowledge, neither country looked like this, like a graveyard.

The longer he walked, the more uneasy he felt. He started looking over his shoulder every now and then; feeling like someone was following him, watching him. Anton quickened his pace. He was sure he heard something move behind him, and on instinct he started running.

His throat burned even more when he ran, but he had to get away from whatever it was that was following him. He could hear footsteps coming closer from behind. Quickly he dodged into a small alleyway to his right; fell to the ground as he tripped on an old can before crawling up against the nearest wall. His heart raced a mile a minute and his head pounded.

Carefully, he peeked his head out around the corner, expecting to get a glimpse of his pursuer. To his surprise, the street was empty, and he couldn’t help himself from drawing a sigh of relief. After waiting a few moments, Anton slowly crawled out from his hiding place and made his way back into the street.

There wasn’t a trace of any pursuer anywhere, thankfully. The only footprints in the snow belonged to himself, and him alone. Anton couldn’t help but lean his head into the palms of his hands as he stood there in the street, still shaking slightly from the previous dash.

“… I can’t take this; I’ll go fucking mental…”

Anton pulled his hands up to his forehead, rubbed the tips of his fingers into the edge of his scalp for a few seconds before pulling his hands through his hair, let them rest down at his neck, his fingers entangled together while he leaned back into them.

“I have to get out of here. I-Fuck. This… Fuck.”

Determined to get find his way out, Anton sat off down the empty streets yet again.

He turned down to his left as the street parted, and found himself standing in a much bigger street, at least twice the size at the road he’d just been on. Odd looking light poles dotted the part of the street which he guessed was sidewalks, and big windows adorned the buildings around him. Stores, probably.

Anton walked down the street and went up to the first window he came across and tried to look inside. The glass was covered with ice on the inside, and there was no way for him to get through it. He turned away from the window and walked over to the next one.

Before he turned, he took a quick look at the light poles surrounding him. They looked strange and not at all like the ones he was used to. They looked to be made out of wood rather than steel, and the top was adorned with a sort of glass cage. A lantern, the kind you would put candles in.

“Strange….”

He turned away from the lanterns and instead focused his attention on the next shop down the street. Above the big windows hung a wooden sign, swaying slightly in the wind, golden letters written across the green surface of the sign.

The words were partially encircled by an equally golden horseshoe. Anton didn’t pay it much mind after reading it; he now wanted to get inside this store as quickly as possible. He grabbed the door and yanked it, but it didn’t move. He tried pushing it inwards and it gave way just a little bit. Not enough for him to get in, but enough for him to actually notice that it did move.

Quickly, he looked down both ends of the street, making sure no one was watching. He sighed at his own stupidity, reminding himself that he was beyond any doubt the only living thing in the entire area, and no one was going to care what he did.

“… Okej. 1-2-3!”

Anton slammed his left should hard into the wooden door, and it gave way a little bit more. Before he pulled back to launch again, he could see the inside of the shop for just a split second within the narrow slit that was forming between the door and the frame. He saw nothing but darkness.

He charged again, making the door crack and creak under his weight. Specks of snow pried loose from the top and fell down over his head. The door was almost open; one more time would probably be enough.

“Kom igen nu, ditt envisa skrälle-Ah!”

The door finally gave in, and Anton tumbled face first into the store. His body hit the floor hard, sending up a plume of dust into the air. Anton pushed himself off of the floor and tried his best to wipe the dust off of his clothes.

“Först aska, nu damm… Kul. Skitkul.”

In front of him, there was nothing but darkness. Darkness and deep shadows, like an abyss opening up before him. Anton didn’t move, his mind slowly filling with possibilities of what might hide deeper in the store. For all he knew, there could be anything down there.

“Hello Darkness, my old friend…” Anton whispered into the blackness. “I have not come to talk to you again. Please leave me be.”

Anton managed to pull his eyes away from the shadows, and turned back to the door. It was still open, swaying ever so gently as wind got sucked in through the doorway. Hopefully it would stay open. He reached down and scooped up a dusty old brick, which he put down next to the door to keep it open, just to be safe. Next to the doorway was the big window, partially hidden behind a tattered old tapestry, the grey fabric moving just a little.

In hopes that it would give him some more light, Anton grabbed hold of the drapes and pulled as hard as he could. They tore off of their metal rod with a loud tearing sound before falling to the floor, and blinding light instantly found its way into the store. Not enough to hold back all of the darkness far back, but enough to give him a better view of the front of the store.

The first thing he saw was a mannequin.

“What the…?”

It wasn’t a human mannequin. Instead, it seemed to mimic some sort of animal, some sort of four-legged creature with a long neck and pointy ears. Hesitantly he walked up to it to get a better look at it, expecting it to move as he came closer.

He didn’t like mannequins, or dolls for that matter either. Any sort of thing that mimicked a living being made his skin crawl. It was a fear that his brother had shared, before he…

Anton pushed those thoughts out of his mind; he didn’t need them right now. He was in enough of trouble as it was without it. Carefully, he reached out and gently touched the strange mannequin. As he let his fingers slide down the long neck, he felt the colour of the creature crumble beneath his fingers. It had been here a long time with no one to take care of it.

The more he looked at it, the more he realized that it carried a resemblance to a horse or some other equine creature, just missing the mane and tail. Anton took a quick peek around the rest of the shop. Could it have been a store that designed gear for horses and their riders? But he couldn’t see any sort of saddles or other similar objects. Just a lot of cloaks, like the sign said.

Deciding to forget the strange mannequin for now, Anton instead did what he initially set out to do. He started to rummage through the lit part of the store, trying to find some piece of clothing that could keep him warm. Whether he would spend a lot of time here or not, he had no desire to freeze to death before he got out.

After a bit of searching, Anton realized just how different these cloaks looked from the ones he’d seen back home. Usually they would be long and wide, open in the front and cut in a way to fit over one’s shoulders. These cloaks looked a lot different, shorter and with an odd cut by the hood. Holding up a cloak made from tattered wool, he couldn’t help but think of it as a cloak made for a horse.

He tried draping it across his shoulders, and despite the unusual design, it still fit him pretty well and reached down to his feet, thankfully. Made for a horse or not, it would still do a good job of keeping him warm out in the snow. Anton grabbed the sides of the cloak and wrapped it around himself like a blanket, testing it out. With the hood covering his head and aching ears, he would at least stand a chance against the cold.

From another smaller cloak, he tore off a long strand of grey fabric, and wrapped it around his neck. It wasn’t much, but it was the closest he could get to a real scarf, and it would have to do. He pulled it up over his mouth and nose, offering a little more protection from the weather outside. The make-shift scarf smelled heavy of dust as he breathed through it. As he adjusted the cloak and scarf further, he began making a plan of action in his mind.

Now that he had some sort of protection, he could start thinking of other necessities; shelter, fire, food and water. The store would do nice as refuge, if he could just explore it further in, to rule out any danger in the other rooms. There had to be something he could use to start a small fire; maybe not proper trees, but at least some sort of wood. Maybe batteries.

Anton counted the ways of making fire he could remember on his fingers. Some good might have come from all those hours of watching Bear Grylls on TV, he thought. His mind was racing to remember the basics of survival and all the little details he’d seen and heard so many times, but as the real weight of the situation started to set in, he couldn’t focus properly.

Suddenly, something interrupted his thoughts. He wasn’t sure what it was or where it came from, but he had definitely just heard a low sound from somewhere nearby. Anton spun around when the sound came back, seemingly from the shadows deeper in the store.

“Hello?”

There was no answer, just the unbroken shadows, and perhaps something within them, watching him. The thought of no longer being alone in this forsaken place made his skin crawl and his eyes shot wide from fear. Something or someone had been watching him all the time, ever since he entered the store. Something deep within the darkness.

“… Is there anyone there?”

For a few more moments, there was nothing but silence in the store. Then a new sound slowly made its way into his ears; breathing. Anton couldn’t stop his body from trembling as he heard it, a deep, strained breath, coming from the shadows.

It grew louder, stronger, as whatever was making the sound drew closer. Wheezing and gurgling, a sound that made him think of someone who was sick and tried to breathe through the mucus in their throat. Slowly, Anton started to back away from the shadows and towards the door, not taking his eyes away from the blackness.

The breathing reached a new pitch, high as a shriek that rang through his ears. Anton couldn’t stand it anymore, finally letting fear take a hold of him completely.

“Nej!” He shouted as he grabbed the door. “Nej-nej-nej! Fy fan-fy fan!”

He pushed the door open and took a hurried step outside, but instantly stepped on the cloak and tumbled forward into the snow. He’d almost forgotten just how cold it was outside, but the cloak served its purpose well.

Anton rolled around on his back and propped himself up to look in through the door, and the moment his eyes fell upon the darkness in the store, his heart froze.

Something was moving in there.

Taken by fear, he opted to just run, get out of there as fast as he could, but a tiny portion of his mind told him to stay, not to run. He at least had to close the door, to prevent whatever it was on the inside to get out.

Panting, Anton got to his feet and dashed for the door, but he tripped yet again as his wobbly legs refused to bear him. He fell down in the snow a second time, but instead of getting up he started to crawl on all fours towards the door.

The sickening breath could be heard from the other side as he came closer.

Anton crawled faster, rising to his feet just in front of the door, panting quickly and his heart about to burst. He grabbed the side of the door and slammed it shut as hard as he could. It generated a loud bang that echoed across the empty street, the sound amplified through the hollow winds that tore through the town.

Just before the door shut, he had caught a glimpse of a pair of eyes, hollow and empty, that stared right at him, tore through his flesh and into his soul.

He planted his back against the door to hold it for a while, before slowly sliding downwards into a sitting position in the snow. He was panting and wheezing, and he noticed something cold on his cheeks. Not until this point did he realize he was in fact crying, and once he did, he couldn’t hold it back.

As if the realization of the tears had made his situation a definitive reality, Anton broke down into sobs as he tipped to the side on the ground and wrapped the cloak around himself. Up until this point he hadn’t been thinking, trying to shut out the severity of it all, but the recent encounter finally made the wall he’d put up in his mind crackle and fall.

Lost, god knows how far from home, alone, cold, scared. All he wanted now was to go home and forget that this had ever happened, escape from the cold. He would even do all he could to patch things up with Jen, if he could just get home again.

What little hope he had been keeping alive deep inside had no abandoned him, left him a crying heap. Left him for dead in unknown and hostile land, left to the mercy of the elements with nowhere to go and nowhere to be, no one to turn to for help.

Lost.

Anton lay on the ground shaking, both from the cold and from sobbing and part from fear. He lost track of how long he remained there, time seemed to stand still as he cried until he couldn’t cry anymore, and just moved to quiet sobs. He shifted slightly, wiping away frozen tears and snot as he did. He moved over on his side, and looked out across the end of the street with teary eyes.

Off in the distance, he suddenly spotted a massive building, higher than any other, towering far above the rest of the dilapidated city. It was undoubtedly the strangest building he’d seen in his entire life, and he just couldn’t understand what it was.

At the top of the massive concrete and glass tower sat the giant head of a horse, bronze in colour, but partially covered in snow and ice, a chunk of the top of its mane missing. Its big eyes seemed to almost survey the strange town, and Anton couldn’t help but think of it as some sort of silent guardian, and it gave him just a small slither of warmth within him.

There was a movement. Anton caught just a glimpse of it in the corner of his eye. Something that moved just at the edge of the street.

Something red.

Author's Notes:

Our human has finally arrived, and it only took fifty thousand words!

Anton speaks a lot of Not-English

Please don't kill me