LCNWRIWE- The Vahn side Options

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DAY 1- IN WHICH OUR ODD PROTAGONIST INTRODUCES US TO AN EVEN ODDER WORLD

He was his own world; a singularity and an anomaly. He had once had a name, but it was lost to him now. The only sounds he was familiar with were the tips and taps of his shoes on the world, the crunches of food giving way in his mouth. There were days, weeks, where he could barely move, struggling in bleak despair to remember the life he had come from. Worse yet were the gaps in his memory where he acted without thought; simply moving from place to place, hunting for food and shelter like a wild animal.
Today the boy was conscious of himself and his surroundings. For several hours he had been climbing up a steep slope, following a highway towards what he hoped was a town. The road was set on the left by an empty field; it was covered in orange dirt, and nothing else. To the right of the road was a large hill that followed it up. Curiosity pulled him to both of these landmarks, but a more pressing hunger, as well as an urge to find somewhere to sleep before night fell kept him following the road.
After an hour or so of walking, the road took on the form of a regular city street, beset by houses on both sides. Out of a strange respect the boy couldn’t quite explain, he never searched for supplies in houses if he could help it. Living off of someone else’s residence was a taboo he refused to break, except in the most extreme emergencies. Houses always meant stores, and stores meant food and drink. Sure enough, it didn’t take much more travel to see a brightly illuminated grocery store. He casually strode in, taking a look around. The absurdity of living in a world that kept itself maintained and stocked, with no humans to consume in it had long since passed out of the boy’s mind. He found a supply of soft drinks in a cooler, and popped the tab on one and began to drink. He sat down in a random aisle and scoped out the rest of the store.
It was your run-of-the-mill market, with about eight aisles. Along the back walls were fridges set up to keep meats and dairy products chilled. He made that his destination, grabbing a loaf of bread on his way. His lunch and dinner were a few cold sandwiches. After eating his fill, it was time to set up a place to rest. He began to search through his belongings, sifting through the various camping items he had acquired and stuffed into his oversized travel pack over the years. He worked wordlessly, setting up a sleeping bag. Years of disinterest had made him accustomed to sleeping on a hard floor.
After preparing his makeshift bed, he decided it was still a little early to sleep. He decided to explore the town a little. Leaving the store behind, he returned to the main road and followed it further, into what seemed to be the shopping district of the town. Everywhere he looked was another building, and the majority of them were small, with no sign of ever being inhabited at all. Some were boarded up and falling apart, and a very few were unlocked and illuminated. Nothing interesting ever seemed to come out of them. One was lined with chairs that seemed able to rise and lower, and they were placed in a row beside a massive mirror that covered an entire wall of the building. There was a shelf below the mirror, filled with various creams and cutting devices.

An amber glow, so intense it was almost like a fog, always existed in his memories. It was like the world he had come from had been made up of this light, a light he had lost when he had stumbled into this deserted world. When he closed his eyes, he could see it, softly radiating like the warmth from the sun. It was there now, softly touching the walls, ceiling, and floor of the building. Gradually each corner took on a distinct shape, until it resembled the store the boy had been in.
His footsteps were shaky, but he wasn’t worried. His hand fit perfectly in another’s, and that person supported him and held him up. It was a parent. Their hand pulled him along at a steady pace, keeping him on track. In that sense, he could feel a father-like air. But… There was a love and kindness in the soft way they gripped him, making sure he had a support to lean on. He couldn’t remember. Something as little as this, whether his mom or dad had taken him out, and he couldn’t remember.

Who had he been? Had something happened, and what? He couldn’t remember. Vaguely, he could look back at when he had first wandered into this cursed world. He had tried so hard to hold onto who he was, but time had etched away every sharp and blunt detail of his past. Only every now and then did he see glimpses of who he was, and they came so rarely that he couldn’t be sure they were even real. But they were here, now, and they would spill out, flooding his senses until they passed over.

They came in waves that blended into each other, one after the next. Each one was stationary, stuck in place like a photograph. He could feel the muscles in his face as he smiled. He could hear voices coming from a long way off. He saw the shadowy outlines of his parent and another figure. He was in one of the rising and falling chairs, with a blanket tied around his neck and draped across him. All on the floor was his hair, lying together in matted clumps; they fell slowly, landing across his lap. Then he was up, running his fingers through his hair. It was rough and short. He could see a quarter in his palm, and at the next moment a piece of candy had replaced it. Shock ran through his body. He was overwhelmed by a sourness covering his lips.

He came to, gasping and huddled on the floor. Hot tears were splashing onto the floor. Drool pooled over his mouth, sliding down his chin to mix with the tears in the floor. The sour taste from the candy in his memories wouldn’t get out of his mouth. After a long while, the throbbing in his head and chest began to subside. In its place was a bitter anger, and an inescapable loneliness. His lips curled back, and a snarl began to echo throughout the room. He let it grow louder and louder, until it was a howl and a scream. He tried to force more volume to escape, until he felt faint. When he couldn’t scream and he could barely breathe, he let his anger manifest by pounding his fists against the floor. He had to break something, anything. The mirror would do fine. It would be smashed to pieces until there were only tiny slivers of fragments left. Then he would grind the fragments into dust. Then he would sprinkle the dust as he walked, leaving a trail. He could see the pale light of the moon hitting the dust behind him, making it sparkle. It would be left as a reminder. A reminder that he was here, that he existed in this place. He found his way to his feet, and he lunged towards the mirror.
But his foot caught. Something. He could feel it slipping, slipping and falling into thin air. And he himself was falling, falling backwards, until his head met with the floor, breaking his short-lived fall.
Something wet and sticky was spreading around the back of his head. He decided not to think about it. He was probably dying. Better not to think about it. Better to try and ignore the agonizing pain that was shooting in short bursts through the back of his skull. The blood that was undoubtedly leaking from his fractured skull, spilling out onto the floor had to be a bad sign, right?
Eventually, as the stars began to fade away from his vision and he realized he wasn’t losing consciousness, he dared to make an effort to get up. He managed this by rolling from his back to his stomach, then slowly pushing himself up with his arms. There was no blood. There was only a small, clear amount of liquid that had been slicked across the floor by his foot. His tears and saliva. There was hardly even enough to slip on. He pulled himself to his feet, looking towards the mirror. In a way, it was better like this. One small victory against the unfair and isolated world he was trapped in. He moved steadily towards the chairs and mirror, hesitating as he reached them. Then he slipped down, into one of the chairs. He pulled a few tools from the shelf and set to work.
It was tough work. His hair was tangled, long, and resistant to every cut he attempted to make. But after a while, he got it down to a reasonable length. It wasn’t much, but it was enough. Just a small attempt at preserving the few remaining vestiges of humanity.