His piercing blue eyes shoot open, pupils refining themselves so as to cut through the haze that lays heavy on his senses. He can feel his body fine tuneing itself to bring his senses back to equilibrium. As he observes his vision sharpen and his hearing heighten a vague sentiment floats to the surface of his mind: "somethings wrong". He looks at the thought dumbly, with just enough understanding to know that something is not how it should be. His muscles tense up and his heart beat rises to match the demands of this foreboding future. Anxiety rises in him, within his chest, swimming through the viens in his arms and crawling up the muscles of his neck. The initial pangs of fear sink its teeth into his stomach, steadily getting stronger. His eyes dart around blindly, trying to escape the looming giant of panic that encroaches ever closer. The sentiment continues to grip his mind without reason and slowly pulls him deeper into darkness. But then he feels something, something other than fear. It grows slowly but not throughout his body. He feels the sensation of seeing more clearly, but his vision is not altered. The sensation of seeing does not spread within him, but through his surroundings, his world growing.

He blinks several times. For the first time he feels the hard wood floor pressing on his face and sees the nocturnal blue wall in front of him. He pushes himself in an upright sitting position while cradling his head in his other hand. The room is dimly lit and given a faint red tint from the oriental style lamp hanging from the ceiling that is boxed in thin, red filter paper. The room is very small and hexogonal in shape. Each of the six walls had a nocturnal blue door that blended seamlessly with the surrounding wall. On each door there hung a powerfully expressive venetian style ceramic mask. On the door directly in front of him hung a face contorted in profound sorrow. A wide grin stretched across the face of the mask to the left. Under the mask the words "it lies" were carved deep into the door. There was something sinister about that smile, and although there were no eyes he could sense it glareing hungrily at him.To the right of the sorrowfull mask hung an expressionless bleach white face. The mouth lay imprisoned behind smooth white ceramic and the eyes were nothing more than sunken in depressions. Directly behind him hung a mask consumed by fear, its eyes forever staring into an abyssal and unforgiving darkness. To the right of that stood a maskless door with massive chains hanging from it and a heavy rusted padlock uniting them all at the center. The door to the left of the fearfull mask stood a door with a splintered mask sized hole where the mask would have been. Cool air flows gently from the seemingly endless darkness within that hole.

Another thought floats to the surface: "What do they mean?". Its at this point that the knowledge of his ignorance smashes onto him. He knows nothing. He doesn't know who he was, where he is, what came before this and what he should expect to come after. He notices, though, that his earlier feelings of confusion and fear are replaced by a sense of clarity. and i dont feel like writing anymore :(