This is an incomplete story I had begun in 2002. I have edited it slightly for spelling and grammar before posting it here.
He stood up and looked around, not sure exactly what was going to happen or what had brought him to this point. Looking around the room he noticed many things that were out of place; his lamp was on the wrong side of his dresser, his television set was turned at a different angle, his dirty clothes were in the laundry basket instead of on the floor. His head reeled with the thoughts of the night before. Nothing came to him clearly, only snippets of memories. He focused on one and concentrated. His energy was wasted, the memory wouldn’t come in clearer. In time, he hoped, it would all come clear again. He knew something was absolutely wrong, but he couldn’t pinpoint what.
Suddenly, a picture flashed in his mind, it was of a woman, beautiful beyond any he had ever seem before. Her face was familiar to him, but he didn’t know why.
Loneliness Sets In
He had been traveling for over a month now, not knowing where he was headed or where he had been. Most of the time he’s spent traveling has been alone. Over the past month, he’s had contact with other people over only eight days. It’s been over two weeks since the last time he’d had company. His name is Peter Friskison. He only knows that from the ID that was in his wallet.
The image of the woman was still fresh in his mind. He knew she was the key to figuring out what was going on with him. He’d traveled through a few small towns, describing the woman to everyone who would listen, asking if they knew her, or where she could be found. Not once did a person seem familiar, not once did a person seem to know the woman.
His travels had taken him through forests, across rivers, and into canyons. The air had been cool and humid most of the trip thus far, but recently it’s gotten dry and been warming up. He knew he was entering a new region, one that will most likely be very harsh, but he knew he had to keep going. He just knew he was going in the right direction.
The path he was currently on wound its way lazily through a forest. From time to time he could hear the squaks of birds, their rustling in the leaves. Small animals scurried through the brush at the sides of the path. The light was soft here, streaming from the canopy above in broken patches.
As time went on, the forest thinned and opened up int a large field of very tall grass. The borders of the field were out of sight, and ahead he could see mountains in the distance. Snow peaked mountains pocked with patches of greenery below the line of white.
At the edge of the forest he decided to rest. Sitting down, he reached into his pack to pull out some food to eat. A nice woman in the first town he had visited during his journey had given him the pack. She could tell he was in need and gladly gave him the supplies. When he figured out what was going on, he’d make sure to go back to that woman, and repay her for her generosity. Most of the food he’s gotten along the way he’s worked for, or when no one was around to work for, he’d catch it himself.
His travels for this day had been long and hard, and the sun was slowly beginning to set. He began to set camp at the spot he had chosen. It was still under cover of the forest canopy, but was out in the open enough that he’d be able to run and get away if he needed to.