Gardolf
I open my eyes.
Nothing.
I see nothing in particular.
If I had to focus on my surroundings, that "nothing" turns into a strange place. I feel heat, there are green things, light twisty things and a bunch of small things on the ground.
Or uhh is it the ground? It both is and isn't the ground. Some of the small things are whisked away by something that goes WOOOSH.
They hit me and it's back to nothing.
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The man closes his eyes after describing his surroundings with extreme amounts of stupid.
"Shut your mouth." he says as nothingness continues to roam across the land
If it were not evident enough, he is in a desert. There are a few cacti near him and some tumbleweed standing, of course, above the vortex that is both the ground and sand. The standard things you'd find in a desert are neatly lined up in front of him, whichever direction he goes he will undoubtedly find "something". So it is not "nothing in particular", dumbass.
He reacts as though he heard a sound in the distance.
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"I wonder which one's which"
I take a look around me, I see nothing in the distance and no one in sight.
I take my first step.
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He walks with his eyes closed. While it may seem that he is lost in thought, "thought" doesn't apply to him yet. Anyone with a brain would know not to walk around a desert with their eyes closed. But hey, he just came into existence.
He opens his eyes.
One would hope he would have hit a few cacti while running blind but no, they're all behind him now.
He blinks and thinks to himself.
"what even is a desert"
What do you think it is, dumbass?
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"a place."
That's a good boy
Wait...
He can hear me?-
You can hear me?
"Damn right I hear you. Kneel." He looks around hoping to see anyone in sight.
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No.
"You aren't gonna ask what for?"
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No.
"You called me stupid. The things I don't know are beyond me until I am taught them. Now tone down your sass and teach me."
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For the last time, no.
He opens his eyes and scans his surroundings.
"I guess this is a cacti", he thinks as he goes up to a cactus.
The singular is cactus by the way.
"What is a cacti?"
"why is it here?"
He oggles the cactus with a lot more curiosity than it's worth.
It's just a cactus, man.
"Are cacti the same as me? Do they also wonder what I am?"
"what am -"
He ponders many things that start getting tedious to list after a while.
Eventually, he decides to do something to the poor cactus...
He reaches out and touches it with his own 2 vile hands.
"Ouch."
-his first experience of pain.
It was just a prick but, seeing as this was a foreign feeling to him, he continues to do some pretty stupid shit:
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What even was that?
It seems that the cacti is rejecting me. That is, of course, if we think it as being alive.
Alive?
How do I know that word?
I know what it means yet I cannot describe it, and even then it doesn't mean I am it.
What proves I am alive?
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He narrates, so entranced by the cactus that he does not blink for even a second.
The man steels his resolve and starts grabbing at the cactus like it is dough and he's a perverted pizza chef.
Oh the blood, oh the horror, whatever.
The day continues with nothing of any worth happening. Just some back and forth between the man and no one.
The only thing of worth that was discovered was that his name, Gardolf, sounded funny and that he isn't too pleased with it.
The day slowly turned to night and the desert grew cold.
The cold was mind-numbing. What would be a worse death than frostbite from the sand, in complete darkness?
A gust of wind blows sand into his eyes. His third experience of pain.
"It's cold."
"Who would have guessed that a desert is this terrible."
"it's cold."
He repeats with his limited vocabulary, still sealing his eyes shut to shield himself from the sand.
"I have to suffer through such a feeling and all I can say is that it's cold, huh?"
"Hmm"
"Is it cold?"
For whatever reason, it isn't.
"Did I die?"
He opens his eyes in hopes of seeing the Eden beyond death
But he still finds the cruel world before him.
Though his body briefly forgot the cold, it was quickly and not so painlessly reintroduced to his life.
"DAMN IT"
A flock of sand blasts towards him, luckily, he closes his eyes seconds before it hits him.
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"Damn this weather. Hey, can you teach me another word for cold already?"
"Huh."
"Cold?"
Once again he realizes that it is not, in fact, cold.
"What kind of place is this 'desert' anyway? from what I saw at first, it was all just sand and heat. Now it's suddenly cold and shooooweey."
You mean windy.
"Yeah, thank you for that."
"And every once in a while it just forgets the cold."
Come to think of it, what does he-
"What do I what?"
Nevermind.
"Fuck you. Don't mention something that will catch my interest if you don't want me to know about it."
Gardolf snaps at the wind.
"Don't you call me that."
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Fine, let's do this properly then.
You are dead. Before you can say anything, let me remind you something;
*talking exists*.
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finally some quiet. You see, this world is the product of a single person's death.
When someone dies, everything that makes them up; their personal traits, their fears, their thoughts, even major occurrences in their lives, all disappear from the world like they were nothing.
People say they will remember you, that you will live on in their hearts. You won't.
Slowly, a bit too fast for one's liking, you are forgotten. Bit by bit people only see you as one thing.
You turn into just a memory; maybe as "the person who was too greedy", "the failure" or even as "someone great".
When you die and all these things disappear, they make their own world.
Everyone who exists in the world you see before you are a representation of an aspect of the same person.
and so, I implore you. Fight.
Fight for that little memory left behind. Fight so that your will; your small little trait, is the final and only thing left behind.
Or so someone said long ago
A being came down to you lowly few and spouted such a story.
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Yeah, you're trying to talk, aren't you?
Fine.
He opens his eyes.
The sand that was hurling towards him finally hits its mark, his eyeballs.