There's a scar on my arm. I could swear it wasn't there a second ago. My heart flutters.
Blinking lights? No, there couldn't have been. And what could've been making gurgling noises?
I look down at my feet and freeze. The grass is scorched. It was a brilliant green just a moment ago.
What is going on?
Another image burrows into my mind. A tall, paper-thin figure, bearing only the faintest humanoid resemblance, looms over me. Its chest is coated in what appears to be brain tissue. Blood drips from a razor-like instrument in one of its four hands.
I scream, despite the peaceful meadow surrounding me.
The vision pans out inside my head. It feels like a dream. I know it’s a memory.
I’m in a shining white room. A metal disk floats beside me, holding dozens of tools. Black lines in haphazard patterns cover every wall. The lighting is dimmer than expected for a surgery. Or, more likely, an experiment.
I see my house at the top of the next hill. My legs can hardly move fast enough. As I arrive on my doorstep, huffing and puffing for air, an orange strobe light zooms away on the horizon.
My face is still cold from the monster’s frigid breath.