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Possible SF story


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He stood in a doorway. Beyond was light. It shone beneath the door like a thin blade slicing the hallway in half. He hesitated to open it.


The hallway was white; stark, hospital-room white. No, it was cleaner than that. He shivered. There was something wrong with a floor so clean that he dared not take a step furher, and with walls that he shuddered to touch. Yet the door beckoned, almost like an escape hatch. But where did it lead?


He opened the door cautiously. There was no trap, no electrical shock, nothing of the sort. Brilliant sunlight nearly blinded him. He staggered backwards and shielded his eyes instinctively, expecting something else. What?


To implode like a vampire, disintegrating into ashes and dust until some maintenance worker swept him up and unceremoniously dumped his remains into a garbage can? He didn't know. Yet, he was relieved that there was no pain.


He stepped into the sunlight and onto a grassy plain. It was an emerald cloak draped across the shoulders of the earth, flowing and cascading past the horizon. Vague purple shadows on the horizon suggested mountains in the distance. He could not determine their numbers or height.


"I must keep moving," he muttered. "If I do not, they will surely find me." He did not know who they were, but some part of his subconscious remembered.


"I must survive at all costs." That was instinctual. Perhaps, deep down, part of him remembered who he was and what he was doing there. He could not recall his name. He was simply himself.


Engima was the word that came to mind. That was who he was, and currently, what he was.


"Perhaps that is the name I should use," he thought aloud. Yes, it would do just fine.


"I am Enigma," he said, savoring the phrase. At least, it was a start.


* * * * *


Feedback wanted.

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  • 3 weeks later...

Never mind.


(We should get a delete post button.)

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