The vision

I awoke amid whispers of shadows, submerging myself in the nebula of an alien consciousness. An enigma emerged in the diffuse corners of my mind, revealing snippets of a life that did not belong to me. Images were interwoven, a turbulent dance of foreign memories that took over my present. And so, in the tangle of memories, I discovered the painful echo of Ryland Wolfe, an echo that would become my unexpected companion in this journey through a past that was not mine.

It all began with fragments of disconnected memories, like scenes from a torn and scattered movie. Fleeting images of childhood, sunny days in the countryside, the smiling face of a little girl, perhaps her sister. Fragments of happy moments, trips to places that no longer existed in this world, moments shared with a family that was not mine.

Memories rushed in, showing the life of the previous owner of the body I now inhabited. They were scenes of warmth and joy, a childhood marked by parental love and fraternal bonds. But everything changed in an instant.

The Archans, a race of cruel and destructive beings, attacked his hometown, ravaging it with fire and destruction. Fragmented memories showed the Archans brutally murdering his father who was trying to buy time, his sister being buried under tons of rubble, screaming and crying in agony. The horror of that scene had deeply scarred the previous owner of this body.

Fortunately his mother and he had narrowly escaped, fleeing to the next nearest town, luckily arriving safely in one of the great human cities of the country, seeking refuge and safety. There, they were received by the authorities who helped them in what they needed to live, but the help was short-lived. In the midst of struggling to survive, their mother was forced to take a second job, having worn herself out working two jobs to support her son and herself. After a while, however, a tragic car accident took her mother's life, leaving Ryland orphaned and alone in an increasingly hostile world where only true strength mattered.

The name of the town where he lived was Brightmoor, a metropolis nestled among rolling hills, famous for its Gothic architecture and booming economy. Here, the body's original owner had grown up, struggling to survive in an unforgiving urban environment.

And then, amidst the wrenching sighs of these fragmented memories, I found my consciousness slowly emerging. I saw myself, not as me, but as an unknown presence observing Ryland Wolfe's life.

Hours later ...

Upon awakening I was greeted with a stabbing pain in my left forearm causing me to remember what happened before I passed out. The vision of a black flower emerging became a fiery, razor sharp memory that had become fully etched in my memory. The flower had disappeared but instead a connected black circle of a single petal had remained as if it were a tattoo, along with some pain. But in the end the intensity of the pain gradually diminished, leaving a feeling of emptiness and confusion.

Not only that, the tide of memories lingered in my mind, mingling with my own identity, creating a confusing amalgam of two intertwined lives. It was as if I was seeing my reflection in a mirror, but with the features of another, a fusion of two souls and two existences intertwined in a strange symbiosis.

Each fragment, each image, was a window into Ryland Wolfe's life. His joys, his sorrows, his fears; all intertwined with my own memories, creating a blurred fabric of experiences both shared and unknown at the same time.

The tension between my own identity and the memories of others created a sense of unease, a distant echo of dissonance that overwhelmed me. Who was I in this body that was not my own? What part of me was still mine and what part was nourished by the experiences of others? These were questions that swirled in my mind, searching for answers in a labyrinth of fuzzy memories.

The mark on my left forearm, the one that appeared after the glimpse of the black flower, lingered like an unsolved enigma. What did it mean? I was at a crossroads of uncertainty, surrounded by a sea of questions without clear answers.

Despite the discomfort and confusion, I hurried to collect every fragment of my vision, jotting it down in the notebook I had previously found in the house.

With the notebook open on a table, I tried to organize the thoughts, to draw a mental map of this strange merger. I jotted down every detail, every impression, every emotion while it was still fresh in my mind and trying to discern between what was mine and what belonged to Ryland.

My fingers moved frantically over the paper, trying to capture every detail I remembered, minutes and maybe hours passed until I finally managed to capture everything in the notebook, I decided to make a brief mental summary of everything I knew and what had happened so far that was next.