Where?

The room is unfamiliar. I don’t know how I got here. I groggily survey my surroundings from the rough wood floor. Why am on the floor anyway? I don’t know. My head throbs painfully. I gingerly touch the back of my scalp and my fingers come away sticky with blood. Did someone hit me? 

                  The soft light of the sun illuminates the small room in which I am lying. There isn’t much to see. Log walls. Wood floor. A small window nearby through which pours the fading evening sunlight. Against the far wall is a hearth and chimney built of rough stone beside which hangs an old red lantern on a nail. Close in front of the fireplace is a vacant, rickety looking recliner. Other than that, there are no other furnishings to be seen. I shiver slightly as my body acknowledges the chilly temperature in the room. Maybe I should build a fire. It doesn’t appear that anyone else is going to. 

I turn my head to look at the ceiling directly above me, only I can’t see the ceiling. The sharp corner of a table is directly above me. Weird. Why would I be laying under a table of all places? I wince as I bump the back of my head on the rough floor releasing a bolt of pain. I quickly return my head to its former position, right ear resting against the floor. Maybe I should try and get up. I try to rise, but the action stirs the chaos inside my head into renewed vigor. Quickly I resume my supine position. Might have to lay here a little longer. It really is a nice place to lay, maybe I’ll stay here for awhile. Wish there was something interesting to look at. 

I let my eye slowly follow a seam in the floor that begins somewhere under my head and then runs off into the distance ending at the hearth. Fortunately moving my eyes doesn’t adversely affect my head space. Unfortunately, there is very little real estate available for my eyes to roam over. Wood floor. Log walls. Ah, a spider web in the corner. Wonder how many spiders call those wispy threads of silk home. Just so they stay up there, I don’t need any eight legged visitors down in my person bubble. 

What would it be like to be a spider? Imagine biting into juicy housefly and draining him dry of his vital juices. My mouth waters. Food would be good right now. Only problem is I don’t see any. 

“Hey is there anyone around? I’m hungry!” Silence. Not even the spiders stir. The impolite bastards, they could at least offer to share one of their flies even though I would probably decline. 

“Anybody? I could use some help here? Come on! I know your there somewhere.” Nothing. Someone must have brought me here to this strange room. Wonder where they went. Maybe they stepped outside for a bit. Getting more firewood possibly, though there does seem to be an adequate amount by the fireplace already. 

I exhale in annoyance and some little puffs of dust rise from the floor. I watch the tiny dancing specks until they disperse and disappear. I blow harder, this time raising a veritable dust storm. More testimony of the owner’s sloppy housekeeping. Like seriously, had this floor ever been swept? I direct my gusty exhalations around the floor till a large area has been blown clean. 

The throbbing in my head seemed to be subsiding. Wonder if I could get up now. Raising my head stirs the rebellion to new levels of frenzy. Nope. Guess I’ll keep laying here. I shiver again. Wow, where is the guy in charge of the fire? What a slacker. The cold is really starting to conquer this room. A good blaze will be vital for forcing it to retreat, and it would light the place up some too. It’s starting to get pretty dim. The sun no longer casts its comforting rays through the small window, maybe it has set. The small patch of visible sky has changed to a deep orange. Yes, the sun has definitely set.

Pulling my eyes from the window, I survey the same walls, ceiling, and floor. Nothing has changed. Wait! A small black speck is slowly moving across the web in the corner. I watch fascinated and wonder what the arachnid is doing. Maybe he is moving a fly to store it in a different part of the web. Or maybe he is on his way to reattach a loose thread. Mrs. Spider has probably been hounding him to fix those loose threads. Poor guy. I follow the small moving insect until my eyes can no longer see him. 

You know, I forgot that I have a pair of hands. They’ve been lying there idle this whole time. Lazy things. I wiggle my fingers and then bring my hand up near my face. It looks pretty normal. Time to trim my nails, could do someone an injury with those. Speaking of injuries, I wonder who wacked me on the head and laid me here. Wherever “here” is. Maybe it was Alan. He was pretty upset about my dog killing his chickens. But I’ve never seen him do something violent ever, he would hardly even have the physical capability. 

I gently probe the back of my head. Again my fingers return coated in blood. Am I still bleeding? Someone must have hit me hard. I slowly draw an abstract pattern with my bloody finger on the floor in front of my face. My finger quickly runs dry. Reaching up behind my head again, I feel around on the floor to see if there’s a lot of blood. My hand lands in a large puddle. Oh dear, that can’t be good. I bring my hand back in front of my face for another inspection. The blood appears almost black in the dim light. Wow, that’s a lot of blood. I put my hand flat on the floor, leaving a bloody handprint. 

I’m starting to feel pretty tired. Maybe I should have a nap. It might help my head feel better, or maybe the person that hit me will come back in the mean time. I let my eyes drift close. I shiver again, and then the boring little room fades away.