In a village seeded deeply in the forest, there lay a boy. He wore tattered clothes, his shoes were covered in holes, and his tangled hair was matted in locs. His mocha-colored skin dimly glistened under the sun as he lay motionless in a glade, his chest rose and fell rhythmically as the voices of nature sang in his ears.
As time passed the boy began trembling, an expression of agony appearing on his face as his breath became ragged. The ground began to tremble as small rocks ever so slightly began to float around the boy. As he lay there, two words whispered into his ear.
[Wake up.]
The boy gasped awake, the trembling Earth ceased its shuddering as the rocks fell to the ground, the boy frantically looked around, his body caked in sweat as he tried to stand only to end up on his knees.
Clutching his head he fell forward, his face now in the grass as he screamed in pain. The pain was excruciating, it wasn't the type of pain just anyone could withstand, no, this was something entirely different.
Sure he'd been beaten when he had to steal food to survive, but this pain was so much worse than anything he'd ever felt, it was almost tormenting. Suddenly flashes of images began flowing into his head.
What were these images the boy thought to himself? He saw himself in a completely different world, one with flying machines, and devices where you could talk to people from long distances, and finally, he saw himself in his last moments and then black.
New memories filled his head, mixing with what he previously knew, all he felt was confusion, and a sense of melancholy. He let his arms fall to his side as he looked up at the sky, one question pounding his mind.
"Who am I?"