His new life began with him laying on a cold flat metal surface. It was pitch black, he couldn't even see his hand when he lifted it in front of his face. He coughed due to the dusty air.
He heard the loud sounds of metal grinding against metal. The floor beneath him jerked, sending him sliding and tumbling to his right. Now laying on his stomach, he placed his palms on the ground in attempt to push himself up. The first try failed. He got it on the second try. His limbs felt heavy and his head felt full but he managed to keep on his feet at the jerk. a drop of sweat fell off the tip of his nose.
He stumbled around a bit, subconsciously looking for something hold onto, until he hit a metal wall. He soon found what felt like wood crates and slid securely in between two of them. He pulled his legs up to his chests and none of the crates would fall on him.
The room jerked again but this time upwards. It continued to go up like a old lift. The harsh sounds of chains and pulleys added to the grinding metal noises followed with a hollow whine.
The dark elevator swung back and forth at moved upwards. He clutched the jean material of his pants.
The awful smell of burnt old assaulted her nostrils. One of his hands flew up to cover the lower half of his face, including his nose.
He sat waiting, completely unsure of what exactly he was waiting for.
'My name is Charles' He thought.
That was it. His name being Charles is the only thing he could remember about himself and his life.
He didn't understand how this could be possible. His brain functioned perfectly, with no flaw. Instinctively, he was trying figure out where he was, where he was going and what was going to happen. Facts flooded his mind, Images and details of the whole world and how it worked. He could see autumn leaves falling from the trees, a creek and ruined sneakers, drinking hose water, rain storms flooding gardens, kicking a soccer ball around, a little town square with kind faces but he could figure where he came from or how he got here in this box-lift, or who his parents where. Did he have parents? Was he a orphan? What about siblings? He didn't even know his last name. People faces fitted through this thoughts but he didn't recognize any of them. He couldn't remember anyone, could recall an event in his life.
The box like room still move upwards and swayed as it went. Time passed. Every second felt like forever but logically thinking, he knew he'd only been move for a half hour.
Finally given into his bubbling curiosity and began to crawl around on the ground, touch and feeling his way around. Where was he? What was happening?
The room jolted again and came to a halted stop sending him flying across the room, smashing his right shoulder against a wall. The box swung less and less, coming to a slow stop. Suddenly, all noises stopped and all he could heard was his own ragged breaths.
A minute passed in silence before he scrambled to his feet with his hand on the wall to keep his balance on his weak legs. The next two minutes passes with him looking around in every direction, only seeing darkness. He sighed.
"Hello?"
Nothing.
"Am I alone?"
Silence.
"I'll take that as a 'yes'"
That was also met with silence. He walked to what he presumed was the centre of the room and sat crisscrossed on the metal ground. "HEY!"
The scream hurt his dry throat, and echoed off the walls before the silence returned. A loud creak startled him as a crack appeared on the ceiling. He watched as it got bigger.
More creaking from above him had him craning neck to look directly up. Suddenly the room was filled with light and he felt blinded. After a moment he got used to it, he looked up to see what looked like double sliding door that had been pulled open.
He heard the voices before he realized he was looking straight at a teenage boy. They were actually a lot of teenage boys.
"He Scrawny."
"How old do you think he is?"
"Dude, it smells down there!"
"Hope you enjoyed the one-way trip, Greenie."
"Ain't no ticket back, kid."
He stood up and tried to focus, even though nothing made sense. Some of the words made little to no sense. They were looking trough a hole in the roof at him and pointing.
And then, as if the lens of a camera had sharpened its focus, the faces cleared. They were all boys, not one girl. Some of them were older and some younger but all were teens, or preteens.
One of them tossed a rope with a loop on the end down to him. Without hesitation, he grabbed it and placed his right foot in the loop. He was then yank towards the sky.
Many arms reached down with hands grabbing the T-shirt that hung loosely on his lengthy frame and helped pull him up. Colours were the first thing he noticed.
The boys quieted down, taking in his appearance.
Finally a boy spoke. Charles knew he'd never for the words. "Welcome to the Glade, Greenie."