The Stirring of a Dormant Soul

In the hushed whispers of dawn, a persistent beeping sound echoed through the sterile hospital corridors, a clarion call to those who had grown accustomed to the silence. A nurse, Judy, hurried into a room filled with patients lost in their own worlds of unconsciousness. A groan slipped from a sealed mouth, a pinky twitched, an eyelid fluttered. These were the most significant events that had occurred in the past week, and they all centered around one patient, Damian.

This unexpected awakening took Judy and the rest of the medical team by surprise. Even in this golden age of cultivation, it was unheard of for someone to regain consciousness after being declared brain-dead. "Take it easy and don't try to move much," Judy advised, her voice gentle yet firm. "You've been in a coma for the last two years. The doctor will be here shortly to check on you."

As Damian's eyes fluttered open, he was greeted by a splitting headache and a blinding ray of light that set his eyes ablaze. Dizzy and in pain, he felt as if he had lost a battle with the world of dreams, plunging into a long and horrific nightmare. In this nightmare, scalpels sliced through his flesh, drills bored into his bones, and electricity coursed through his veins. All of this occurred while he screamed in silence, cried a river of nothingness, and walked a million miles without moving an inch.

By the time Damian regained his senses, he found a figure clad in white standing before him. A flash of light danced before his eyes, and a stranger's voice filled his ears with gibberish. Damian strained to comprehend the man's words, his mind still foggy from his prolonged slumber."

He's still in trauma," the doctor declared, his voice clinical. "Take a blood sample and run a full test." Judy, ever the dutiful nurse, prepared the syringe. As she reached for his arm, Damian's gaze shifted from her to the needle inching closer to his skin. A wave of fear washed over him, causing him to jerk his arm away and tumble to the floor, his shouts echoing through the room like the cries of a cornered beast."

This isn't good. He's reacting violently" the doctor noted, his voice laced with concern. "Hold him down and sedate him quickly. We can't let him hurt himself." The doctor and two other nurses rushed to restrain Damian as he struggled to escape, his consciousness fading as he succumbed to his fear.

The following day, the doctor approached Damian, his voice calm and soothing. "How are you feeling now? Are you in any pain? Can you move your arms well? I've run all the necessary tests and checks. You should be fine. Your case is quite unusual. Not many patients wake up after two years in a coma. You should consider yourself extremely lucky to have achieved the near impossible."

Damian tried to process the doctor's words, his mind a whirlwind of confusion. His last memory was of having dinner with his parents before going to sleep. Now, he was waking up to a doctor telling him he had been in a coma for two years. He raised his head, pondering for a moment, before responding to the doctor's questions and asking a few of his own."

I have a slight pain throughout my body, doctor, and I can move my arms. But I can't feel my legs. Can you tell me what happened to me?" Damian asked, his voice filled with uncertainty."

For your body pain, you'll need to take a painkiller from now on. Your nervous system was damaged when you were rescued, and there are signs that your spine was broken. Is there anything else you need to ask?" the doctor replied, his tone professional."

Why is my voice different? And what about my family? Why haven't they come to see me yet? Didn't you call them?" Damian asked, his voice laced with worry."

Your voice probably sounds different because you haven't spoken for a long time. As for your family, I can't help you with that. A police officer will come and question you after me," the doctor explained before leaving Damian alone with more questions than answers.

A few minutes later, a police officer entered the room. He took a seat, prepared his pen and paper, and began his interrogation. "I ask the questions, and you answer. Name?"

" Damian, Damian Grimstone."

"Age?"

"The last thing I remember before I went into a coma is that I was 16, so I should be 18 now," Damian replied, his voice steady despite his confusion.

The officer looked up at Damian, his expression skeptical. "Mr. Grimstone, please answer the questions truthfully."

Damian was taken aback. "I… I'm not sure. Maybe 19? I really don't know."

The officer's face contorted as if he had swallowed a fly. "Alright, place of birth? And do you have any living relatives?" The questioning continued for over an hour. "We'll do our research and contact you when we are done" the officer concluded before leaving Damian alone with his thoughts.

In the afternoon, feeling mentally exhausted and seeking a change of scenery, Damian asked Judy to take him to the hospital's front yard. There, amidst a small park dotted with trees, he planned to sort out his thoughts. As he sat there, a young woman approached him. She had just left her father to handle the hospital paperwork and the procedures for her grandmother's funeral. As a tribute to her grandmother, she decided to visit the park, the last place where she had received her grandmother's love and care.

She walked absent-mindedly to their usual spot, only to find an old man sitting in a wheelchair. He looked disheveled, with white hair, a messy beard, and wrinkles etched deeply into his face. His arms and legs were wrapped in bandages, and he was staring at the sky, lost in thought. Feeling a pang of sympathy, she approached him and asked if she could sit next to him.

"Gladly," he replied, his voice filled with gratitude. "I would love for you to do that. I haven't sat and talked with anyone in the last two years. What brings you to the hospital today? I hope you're healthy and don't need to stay here."

Hearing him speak so kindly, she felt a wave of sadness wash over her. "My grandmother just passed away. I came here to remember my time with her," she confessed, her voice choked with emotion.

Damian was taken aback. He hadn't expected her to share something so personal and heavy. He cleared his throat, searching for the right words. "Ahem, I'm sorry for your loss. I'm sure she's in a better place now, looking down on you and cheering you on."

With tears in her eyes, she chuckled, imagining her grandmother scolding her and telling her not to be sad. "Thanks, old man. Why are you here alone? What are you in the hospital for?"

Damian was taken aback. Old man? He thought she was just curious about him and wanted to talk about his wheelchair or something else. He cleared his throat again. "Just because Judy left me here by myself doesn't mean I'm alone. Ha, don't look down on me. Although I'm in a wheelchair, I'm still in my teens. It's just an accident that put me in a coma for two years."

They continued to talk, and soon she left with her family while he returned to his bed in the hospital. Feeling bored and wanting to catch up on the latest news, Damian asked Judy for a local newspaper. All was well until he held the newspaper in his hand and read the biggest headline on the first page.

Star City Newspaper

Issue Date: 2nd of October, the 62nd Year of the Awakening Calendar.

As he read the headline, he was confused. He had asked for a local newspaper and was about to ask Judy for the Fire City newspaper. His pupils constricted, his breath hitched, and a cold sweat broke out all over his body as he read the date again and again. The 62nd Year of the Awakening Calendar, not the 22nd. He panicked, not understanding what was happening. He shouted, "F*ck, how has this happened?" while clutching the newspaper, only to notice his hand was warped. He tore off his bandages to see a hand, but it was unlike his own. It was skinny, old, and full of wrinkles.

Seeing him make a fuss and tearing his bandages away, Judy rushed to him, only to hear him ask for a mirror. He said he wanted to see his face while he was examining his body. Judy was worried about Damian, as it had been more than 15 minutes of Damian staring at the mirror and his reflection staring back at him. He was perplexed about who was in the mirror and why he was staring back at him. He remembered the girl from earlier telling him, "Thanks, old man." She was talking about him. He was the old man. His mind stopped working properly, and he looked at Judy.

"Say, Judy, I'm not an old man, am I? I'm not the man in the mirror, am I? Please tell me that I'm seeing things falsely. Yes, yes, that's it. I must have gone insane. I need to have medicine, or I need to sleep again and wake up. What should I do, Judy?" he pleaded, his voice hoarse. "Help me, Judy."

Poor Judy didn't know what to do. Who could blame her? She had never encountered such a situation before. She decided to call a doctor to talk over this mess, as she was way underpaid for this. Seeing her run outside the room, Damian's plea turned into rage as he shouted, "Where are you going, Judy?" The lights in the room started to flicker, and the glass of the windows started to vibrate. "Is this your doing, Judy? Say something, Judy!"

And just like that, Damian's first day of truly being awake after his long coma ended with the guards rushing in. They found a middle-aged man clutching his heart, half-torn hospital gowns and bandages scattered all over the place, and a crying Judy being taken away for questioning for a possible unsuccessful attempted murder. Who could blame them? The whole hospital had heard the poor old man asking for help and accusing Judy of doing 'it'. What was 'it', some might ask, but nobody knows.