I feel weightless...lifeless. I'm freezing, like all the warmth I should have, was taken from me. Its dark, oh wait, my eyes are closed. God, i feel like an idiot. At first, I see only blue, many different shades and variations mind you, but still just blue. Some shades were like looking at a brilliant sapphire. A rich, deep blue, that made you feel calm and peaceful. To my right was a much darker shade, and it was frightening. It looked as if it was waiting, waiting for you to wander too close. As if it would engulf you at the soonest opportunity, dooming you to wander its eternal Void for the rest of Creation.

What is that? There is some, weird pressure in my chest. Oh, well. Im sure I'll figure it out eventually. I wonder what it smells like, this place seemingly empty of life. Only one way to find out. Something floods into my nose, but its not oxygen. Its...its...water? Thats what that feeling in my chest is... I'm drowning. I thrash about trying to swim towards the lighter shades of blue, for I assume that means sunlight. I claw frantically at the water, trying to pull myself towards the surface. I claw, and paddle, and kick, but I'm losing energy fast. Every movement becomes more strained, and difficult. I try to fight this exhaustion, but I can't. I can't go on. My limbs won't heed my commands anymore, no matter how much I will them to.

Some people say drowning is a peaceful, gentle way to go. They have, obviously, never been drowning. It is not a peaceful and gentle way to go. The pain is excruciating, and the knowledge is terrifying. Eventually, a sense of hopelessness settles over me. I can't say it was pleasant, more like a 'well, crap, nothing I can do now' feeling. I close my eyes, and try to accept my inevitable death. I probably would have been able to, if it wasn't for that incessant noise. What was it anyway? Was it my insides being crushed beneath the weight of the ocean? Or maybe it was the sound some big fish breathing. It certainly sounds like it could be something breathing,that lucky bastard, with its pitch rising and falling rhythmically. It sounds off though, kind of metallic, or robotic. How to describe it? ...it is kind of like a 'vworp! vworp! vworp!'. Strange, it sounds so familiar, almost like some childhood memory come alive again. So...familiar...

I wash up on the shore of an island. Which one? Not a clue. Could heaven be an island? Maybe. Everything aches, including breathing. Breathing? Huh, I guess I'm not dead. That's good, I guess, if I didn't hurt so much. I force my eyes open. Ow. Bad idea. My eyes are too sensitive right now. I open them again against their will, and look down at my body. Everything seems to be there, and judging from dried, and caked sand everywhere I've been here a while. So, I'm guessing I didn't just wash up. I wonder how long I've been here. A few hours maybe. I need to get up. I'm hungry, and thirsty, but I don't even want to look at water. What is that? There's a giant crate a little ways up the beach. Ok, I'm checking that out.

I begrudgingly sit up. Yup, definitely been here a while. Nasty sunburn. I'm just going to lay back down. Well, while I work myself up to moving, I might as well introduce myself. My name is Blake. I'm not sure what my last name is, or how it would even be important in this situation. I am...how old? Should I be worried, that there is so much I can't remember? Maybe just a bit. Judging from the length of it in my eyes, my hair is black. Maybe it could use a trim. Okay, time to get up. OWWOWOW. Okay, on my feet. Woah, little wobbly. C'mon, one foot in front of the other.

I hobble over to the crate. It's about five feet wide about 4 tall. Oh, there's even a crowbar next to it. There is definitely something going on here, but as the saying goes,' Never look a gift horse in the mouth.' That applies here, right? I pick up the crowbar and jam it into the crate. I push on it, and again, and again. Wow, they make this look so much easier in the movies. Hold on, I've got a plan. I go fetch a big rock I spotted a few yards away. Boy, this thing is heavy. I bring it back to the the crate and hoist it above my head. Steady, Aim, Drop! The rock collides with the crowbar and successfully manages to pop the lid off of the box. Unfortunately, the crowbar continuous to be propelled up, and into the side of my face. I drop like a rock (no pun intended). Holy hell, that hurts. My vision is spotted and fading. I think I'm just going to lay here a while.

Wiggle my fingers, wiggle my toes, that is how the 'make sure everything still works' self check goes. Nothing seems to be left paralyzed from that blow to the head. Well, my right eye seems to have trouble focusing. Hopefully that clears up in a bit. Ok, lets try this again. I painfully lift myself to my knees, then look over at the crate. I scan the results of my work. The lid is off, leaving its contents left to the open air. I jump to my feet. Bad idea. I would have just lost my lunch, if I had any food inside of me to be lost. Waves of dizziness wash over me, one right after the other, leaving me unable to do anything, but shut my eyes and wish for it to be over.

"He don't look to good, ya know?"

"You're telling me. Guys as pale as a fish's underbelly."

Ugh, voices. Why do they have to be so loud? Can't they see I want to-Voices!? I jerk my head up to look at these newcomers. God, why am I so stupid?

"Tidus, might want to step back, ya know. Looks like he might lose his lunch."

I raise my arm up and wave it around, trying to find the source of these voices. My arm brushes some fabric, and I latch onto it.

"GAH! He's got me. Wakka, help!"

"Hahaha. Oh brudda. Calm down, yah? He's obviously in no condition to be anysort of threat."

I open my mouth, but all that comes out is a hoarse croak. My mouth is too dry to accomplish much verbal communication. Verbal communication? When did I start speaking, well thinking, like that? I mean besides when I'm being awkward around women. Weird right? My vocabulary increases when I'm nervous. Go figure.

"W-wat-er" I finally manage to force coherent speech out of my mouth. Coherent? Musta been that blow to the head.

"You heard him, give me your water pouch."

"Why I gotta give him mine? You still got yours, yah?"

"Uhh...hehe. I kind of drank all mine."

He, Wakka I guess, removes a small leather pouch from his waist. Oh gog, I can hear it sloshing around inside. The other one, (Tidus right?) supports my head, while Wakka slowly gives me sips of that godly liquid. I think I might have thought that water was evil a little earlier. I take it back. Oh, how I take it back.

"I think thats enough for now, yah? Why don't you tell us your name? It's only polite, yah know."

"B-blake. My name is Blake."

"Hey, Blake. I'm Tidus, and the one with the annoying voice is Wakka."

I see Wakka reach his hand behind Tidus' head, and with what looks like not much force, playfully bops his head. I look up at my two saviors. Tidus: with his sandy blonde hair, his shirtless jacket, and his weird shorts that have one sides fabric longer than the other sides, and Wakka: with his yellow poofy pants, his white tunic, and his shockingly orange hair tied back with a blue bandana. It's funny, they don't look like they should. At least, I don't think so. They look too young, almost like their... A slow revelation creeps over me.

"Well, now that we've done the little introductions, any other questions?"

I look up into the faces of two of my most favorite people of all time. People that shouldn't exist. This is impossible. There is now way...

"Just one. ...Where am I"