Bed of Pink Carnations

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Chapter One

The first thing I felt was an overwhelming sense of dread.

I knew two things for sure. First, I had to go back home or Naruto was going to have a psychotic episode. I was punctual to a fault. Naruto would start hyperventilating after five minutes, I was sure. I knew that it would be worse this time – I couldn't explain why I was late. Second, I couldn't feel anything. Sure, I had all my other senses, smell, hearing, taste – sight, if I could just get my eyes to open. Touch was completely lost to me.

I pried my eyes open. I could see the light from the sun, blinding me from all else.

I sat up. I knew this place. I couldn't remember why. It tugged faintly in my mind, but whenever I tried to reach out to the memory, it evaporated from my fingers like water in a hot skillet. Why couldn't I remember?

Amnesia, I thought. That was normal, right? A normal bout of amnesia, brought on by what was presumably stress. All people get stressed. Stressed enough for amnesia, maybe not. My logic had failing me and my lips tugged into a frown.

I stood up, faltered, swayed. I found myself clinging to a stone rock for balance. I was trying to get used to not being able to feel anything I touched. It wasn't easy. At least my eyes had adjusted to the bright sun.

It was midday and the sun beat down on the field I stood in. The light reflected off the stone and sprayed into a million colours, each sparkling with life. I ran my fingers over the contours of the stone, but couldn't feel anything – it was like it wasn't there. I saw myself press against it. Why couldn't I feel it?

"Hey, kid," a scratchy voice called.

"I'm not a kid," I called back.

Sure, I was short and lanky, but I certainly wasn't kid. 'Kid' implied elementary school. University is certainly not elementary school.

"Son, I don't care."

A youthful, blonde woman in a black trench coat with vibrant purple wellingtons was sauntering towards me, waving her right arm in greeting. Her left was tucked into a large pocket. She was smiling.

Who the hell?

I let go of the stone, took a step back. She was about twenty meters from me.

"You won't get very far, trust me," she said.

I looked behind me. A black cast-iron gate fenced off the area. How had I not seen it before? It was three meters tall with spikes pointing skyward. The gate's entrance was to the woman's back. I couldn't make it if I ran.

"Where the fuck am I?" I said.

I took another step back. She was taking progressively faster strides.

Stopped abruptly five meters away. The woman shrugged.

"Graveyard."

I looked over to the shimmering stone I previously held. Letters were written on its front. I couldn't read them. A single pink carnation was set atop a mess of pink, red, orange and yellow zinnia. I could have sworn I fell on them, but they were flawless – a sea of perfect flowers.

"I can't read those letters," I said. "Why can't I read those letters?"

"You don't want to," she said, shrugging again.

There were more stones than mine. Endless rows of stones, roses beneath few. I couldn't read any of them. I tried to read them. "I want to," I said, my voice raised. "I just can't."

"Don't lie to yourself, son."

A cloud drifted over the sun, dimmed the light. My stone stopped glittering.

"Who the fuck are you?"

The woman ignored me, dug around in her pocket and fished out a shiny yellow packaged candy.

"I'm a mediator," the woman said.

"I had enough of that shit when my parents got divorced."

"Not that type of mediator, you slow child," she clicked her tongue and shook her head. "Why are they always difficult?"

"Then what are you?"

"The person that's going to help you," she said. She turned on her heel and began walking toward the black gate.

I hesitated.

"How the hell are you supposed to be helping me if you fucking walk away?" I said, striding quickly behind her.

She stopped abruptly before of the cast-iron entrance. I bumped into her and fell backward on my ass. The woman was completely unmoved. She cocked her head to the side, narrowed her eyes. "Be more careful, you little shit," she said.

She opened the gate with ease. For a woman, she was strong. She walked into the parking lot that lay beyond the opened gate, to a rust-covered, black 1983 Honda Civic. The vanity plate read said 'CATCAB.' She opened the door and got a leg in before she remembered me.

"Go home."

I scowled. "How am I supposed to get home if I don't know where I am?"

"I told you – you're at the graveyard. Do you know any other graveyards in this small fucking town? No, you don't. Now pick yourself up and go home," she paused. "If you have any questions or concerns, find me."

My heart beat wildly in my chest, "You're not leaving me are you?"

She waved. That bitch.

"How will I know where to find you?" I yelled.

She got into the shit-box of a car and drove up to the gate. She slowly rolled down her window: "I have faith in you, Sasuke."

She drove off without another word. My mouth hung open as I watched her car get progressively smaller. She actually left.

The sun was thoroughly hidden behind the clouds. Their slate-gray colour threatened rain at any moment. I started to walk home despite myself. I didn't want to get wet.

Naruto was going to kill me.