Word Count: 100
Tuesday
...
He comes to, waking in and out as briefly as the waves.
Awake, asleep, the tides of the ocean rocking him in an unfamiliar wood. There, a crack of light, a peak of eye. Sore. A dull burning in his stomach, not hunger. Shouting. Silence. Darkness.
People by his bedside, but no antlers. Once he thinks he wakes crying, but it might've been a dream. What was he crying for again? Oh, oh, oh.
In, out, reality covering him, a blanket on his leaden heart. Straw clenched between fingers. There. Unclench. Breathe.
Back to the void. Momentarily escaping once again.