Markos woke suddenly, his fleeting rest period falling prey to his insomnia. He calculated that on and off, he'd gotten about 2 hours of sleep when he should have gotten 6 already. It'd been like that for days, and for all the pharmacy visits and hypnotherapists he'd visited, nothing seemed to solve the problem.
Markos sat up, and immediately wished he hadn't. With a resounding CLANG, he slumped back to his prior, horizontal position. If he hadn't been able to get much sleep, he definitely wouldn't be able to get any now. "It's been a week and I always forget about that pipe", he muttered to himself. Groaning, sluggish, he dragged himself out of bed and went outside. He did his best thinking outside.
The door creaked as it came to a close, but stuck just before it closed completely. The house was in a mess, thanks in no part to the previous occupants who'd left in a hurry. Their belongings were scattered everywhere, and Mark felt like he was an archeologist, going through the bits and pieces of someone's life. Or a scavenger, Mark thought to himself. He propped himself up against the wall, and looked up at the slowly dawning sky. Beautiful.
He couldn't remember much of his life before this. Hell, for a sky like this, who cared? He lived for these moments. Markos closed his eyes, basking in the morning cool. He delighted in the fact that every time he opened his eyes, things were different, and new. Always a new beginning.
The suns rose, and the sky slowly streaked with brilliant maroon. He took his cue to escape the inevitable scorching heat that this brought, and retreated back into the house, to watch the day burst into life and death again. As the suns got higher in the sky, the previous evening's nightgrass withered and decayed, sinking into the ground. A boulder rolled under a tree for cover. A family of small, furred, scurrying rodents took flight, presumably to find sanctuary in his attic. There was always so much to see.
Something shook. Taking a glance outside, Markos realised with a start the day's lightstorms were beginning. He braced himself, hearing a nearby tree explode into flame. As it melted into the landscape, he heard a lightbolt or two strike his house, but they bounced harmlessly away. After several moments of this, he decided to take a look outside to observe the damage.
The viridian sky's lonely red sun shone down on the landscape, the only sign of life a slowly approaching skyship that signaled that he should get ready for work. Marcios sighed heavily and got dressed. His house shook again. Didn't the lightstorm just end? He glanced outside again, and his jaw fell. Pieces of the skyship fell to the sky aflame, and crashed into the ice. The flames froze and sank into the icy waters, along with the rest of the ship it came from. That was the funny thing about this world, he thought to himself. Never left a mess. Like there was a set default, or something that it had to adhere to...
He looked up, on instinct. What Marcios saw made his blood run cold, and that wasn't just a result of the bitter arctic conditions. The clouds had rearranged themselves... were those clouds? Or were they something else? The message was still the same, though.
The sky shattered suddenly, and he took cover as a shard of what used to be the horizon smashed through the window and embedded itself into the floor. It dissipated, leaving no trace of its presence save a shattered window, and a very rattled Marcios. He needed to disappear.
Clearly, there was no time to pack. He thanked his lucky stars that he travelled light, and, stepping onto the sands, he prepared to leave. One foot before the other. Slowly at first, then quicker. He crested a sand dune, as the falling shards of the sky nicked his skin, his jacket getting torn to shreds.
In front of him, the sands shifted.
Makkhose woke up suddenly, remembering to sit up slowly this time to avoid the pipe. Outside, the suns were setting, and the nightgrass emerged from its hiding place in the soil. He revelled in the blissful cool of the evening, closing his eyes to drink deep of everything.
Beep.
Beep.
An eyelid was opened, and Dr. Keith shone his penlight, without reaction from the eye within. He straightened up again, and turned to Marcus' wife.
"No change, as far as I can tell, ma'am, and no sign of when he'll get better. That is, if he does. I'll let you know, of course, if there are changes to his... condition." he drawled, already in his mind the thought of getting off work, and meeting his mistress at the Charlton.
Beep.
Sandra glanced at Marcus' comatose body on the bed. He'd been wired nearly top to bottom, and she could barely see his face anymore over the VR apparatus they'd strapped on him. She remembered how the specialists said that without any mental stimulation, his brain would eventually wither away, leaving him brain dead. She turned to the doctor and smiled sadly.
"That... that would be good, doctor. I just hope that day comes at all."
"Mmm-hmm."
"You know, it's ironic, somehow... He always lived in his own little world. Sometimes I think he loved those worlds more than me. Strange... isn't it?"
"Yes ma'am, like you've told me before. He'll be perfectly fine. Now you go on home to your kids, alright? Nearly dinnertime."
Beep.
"Ye... Yes, of course. I should be going. Thank you, doctor."
"Mmm."
Sandra turned to leave, and took another look at Marcus lying there peacefully. Sometimes she envied him, wondering what new world he was in now. She stepped out of the ward, and shut the door.
Outside, the sun shone warmly, a blazing sphere suspended in the bright blue sky. Its rays did little to lift her mood, however. As she walked to her car, she watched a pair of robins up in a tree, building their nest, flitting and twittering excitedly. She watched them, carefree, never knowing what it was to be surrounded by people, yet so alone.
She wondered what it was like to be free.
