There was nothing at first, no taste, sight, hearing, touch, or smell nor were there any thoughts, the self-awareness of "life" hadn't even fully sunk in yet. Still, strange as it was, it was comfortable and peaceful; he liked living that way.
That is, until what seemed like countless years go by, small bits of awareness and sentience eking out of that shell of a head he had, and at one point he started thinking, being "alive" in his own way.
After thought came the senses, and it was smell at first. On his first breathe he began to desperately gulp the air but choked on the nauseating and stinging stench that hung in the air around him so he slowed down and slowly began to take in the air.
Then much longer after that suddenly came taste. He could feel something strange inside him, so he carefully let out his tongue and the word "salty" came to mind, to an extreme sense, he had never known this strange sensation before but his lips chapped and his tongue grew dry so he hid it again while he kept on wanting for something to sate it.
Next time, the sense came almost immediately after he grew used to the taste of the air, hearing, his ears were suddenly attacked by countless howls and shrieks, clawing in vain at his ears, hoping to be rid of the sudden burst of sound that was driving him mad. Eventually, by sheer length of time, he grew used to the noise as well.
Touch came as a massive surprise, and with it, he had found that he could move, and feel "himself", holes, different bumps, edges, curves, and found what he was shaped like, it gave him some relief in a sense, that everything that was happening was happening to something tangible and "real."
Lastly, sight came and what he saw was... strange to say the least. Darkness. It was total darkness everywhere he looked as he laid on his back against the cold, hard floor. He tried to stand up, using his arms as support as he shakily rose from his less than comforting bedding. "Stone," he realized as his hands braced against the rough surface while he rose to his feet.
Shaking and drained of strength, one foot moved in front of the other, endlessly going one way until his legs gave out beneath him and he went with a crash to the ground. The rock draining him of whatever warmth was gained from his strenuous efforts to move, he laid there in bated breaths.
He tried to remember where he was as his chest rose heavily and his hands rushed around in a flurry for a purchase to hold onto and rise once more. But as he found his grip and rose, he fell again. And again. And again. And again. Until his body could no longer rise and he laid there on his aching back, staring into an abyss.
As his body failed his mind began to move, slowly at first, feeling the cold, processing his aching pains until he slowly began to be capable of thought once more. "Where am I?," thunder struck his ears, he pressed further. "Why am I here?" he screamed in his mind as his voice had long given out, he pressed further. Wounds worming like cracks on his body, crimson flowing through the seams, he pressed further, "What is happening?". Pain erupted from his wounds, as he began to writhe in agony. He. Pressed. Further. "Who am I?," Silence. Complete and total silence, as if everything he had just felt was him going mad.
The edge of his vision began to fade to black, slowly even his mind shut down, leaving nothing but darkness again as he desperately clung to his consciousness that he had fought so hard to reclaim. Sadly, his efforts were in vain as his breaths slowed and his heartbeat grew faint.