• You opened your eyes . . .

    with no recollection or memory of how you got into a place like this:

    Meadows of grass that stretch towards the horizon and seemingly goes on forever

    The sun, like an orb of fire, hangs in balance over the distant hills, casting longs shadows towards you

    You slowly recall, like a flashback from your mind, the forest at the East where you used to

    play with children whose names you try to remember but you can't
    And you somehow knew, like a tugging memory on the back of your head, that you are home

    But home is not how you remembered it . . .

    The grass no longer swayed when the constant breeze passes through it like it did before,

    You slowly realize, there was no breeze at all. Just the still air that clung onto the place.

    And the grass itself is no longer green. Gone were the relaxing shades of nature only to be replaced by a malevolent crimson.

    And how you find it weird that seeing the grass as they are now, it reminded you of blood

    The sun, still on the same location but now in pure darkness.

    Darkness so bright you found it hard to look straight to it without flinching. An eclipse, you thought, but you know your guess is wrong.

    You slowly directed your gaze East, towards the forest you used to play to as a child

    And you realize that the trees are no longer leafy as you remembered them, but withered and dead.

    From the distance, you can spot figures, human figures, suspended from the tree's branches, probably your childhood friends but how strange it is that it did not bother you.

    And as you guide your gaze towards the horizon again, you saw another figure embedded
    with shadow, the dark sun casting it's enigmatic shadow towards you.

    With two pairs of feet, two heads and something shiny glistening from the distant, it left a cloud of smoke from behind as you noticed that it's coming towards you.

    And moment after moment, you slowly saw what it really looked like:

    A shadowy figure riding a pale, black horse and in his left hand is a scythe. The thundering
    footsteps of the horse echoing throughout the silent meadows.

    Obviously, it was death himself.

    The horse came to a stop just a few yards away from you. The dust it left on it's passing showing no sign of dispersion.

    And in that moment, you caught a glimpse of the face hidden under the hood.

    The face looked familiar.

    The face was yours.

    It smiled your smile. The apparition that is Death raised his left hand, the scythe hovering on top of you.

    And swiftly, it descended.

    You felt no pain as the scythe ripped you in the middle.

    You felt nothing at all. No pain, no emotion, no regret.

    Moments after that, you find yourself transported at the same meadows yet again.

    This time with people you finally recognize and remember: your family and friends.

    And the meadow is how you remembered it,