1.1 Waking Up

I remember waking up one morning to a ceiling that was not mine. I never knew one could recognize their surroundings by just looking at something so plain and simple like your ceiling. Of course what gave it away as well was the mere fact that the poster I had hanging over my bed ever since I grew old enough to appreciate certain, lets just say artistic feminine pieces, was not there.

I don't remember how long I sat there, on the edge of my bed that morning. I must have stared at those walls for hours. I was just not able to shake the feeling that something was wrong, very wrong, and I wasn't in a hurry to discover how wrong it actually was. 
I kept thinking about my birthday. Just the day before, the house was filled with family and friends for my transition into adulthood. My girlfriend was there as well, she was only a few days younger then I was, we were so excited to start on our life together a few days later. So what happened to me that made it possible for me to wake up in what appeared to be a very small house I had never seen before.

When I finally worked up the courage to get dressed and go outside, it didn't take me long to realize two things. One, I was still in Hidden Springs, the town where I was born and raised. Two, I was alone. And with alone, I mean alone, as far as my eye could reach, all I could see was nothing. All the buildings were gone, all the people were gone, the roads were still there, the spaces were still there, but there was absolutely nothing that made a noise. Saying this makes me wonder if perhaps this silence was what alarmed that morning. 

I started to run, I clearly remember that, I started to run as fast as I could. I tried to cover every inch of what used to be my hometown. Where did everybody go? I must have tried to leave this city as well, for I think like a thousand times. But whenever I would reach the borders, i'd suddenly feel the urge to return home. I never understood how that was possible, because I really wanted to get out, but I couldn't fight the urge to go home.

It took me several weeks before I accepted that I was all alone. Not a single living soul left in Hidden Springs, not my family, not my friends. Feeling distraught and beaten up I stood at the lake, staring at the mountains on the other side. Mountains I just knew I would never be able to reach. 

It was not until after I accepted my fate of loneliness that the weird things started to happen. Of course, the fridge was a weird fact I discovered on my first day in this situation. Every morning it was filled with whatever I needed for that day. I grew accustomed to that very quickly. No, what I'm talking about is that the morning after that day at the lake, there was a piece of wood in my house. And with that, enough materials to create something from that wood. I started hacking at it out of frustration, needless to say my first piece wasn't a great success. But the next morning, there was another block there. And soon my days were filled with carving up whatever material I would find in the morning. Don't get me wrong, of course I tried to stay up and see who came by at night and provide me with that material. But in the end, I would always fall asleep, and no matter what time i'd wake up, there would always be another block of wood, or clay. Sometimes there would even be Ice.

It was on one of those days the next strange thing appeared. From the corner of my eye I noticed a little girl walking away from my front door. I rushed out to see if I could ask her where she lived, but by the time I got there, she was gone. Upon turning to go inside, I noticed she had been there to deliver the newspaper. I picked it up, but with that, I felt tense again, just like that morning I had waken up to discover that everything was gone. So I put it on the table and hit the shower.

I don't know why I kept reading the newspaper every single day, because after I had gotten out of the shower I opened up the newspaper only to discover there was nothing in there. It was not blank, there were lots of pictures, and letters. But I never seemed to be able to make something of it. The pictures all blurred when I would focus on them, the letters would start dancing in front of my eyes if I'd try to read them. Still, every single day after that, a newspaper would be lying there, and I tried to read it every bloody day.

The first time the mailman showed up, I wasn't as surprised as I was with the newspaper girl. I was surprised however to find bills in my mailbox. With no government in this town, who the hell was I paying those bills to? The next day I stood outside to wait for the mailman to return. And the day after that as well. It took him three days before he came to collect my money. Though this time I was able to talk to him, I seemed to forget my questions about who, what and why whenever I chatted to him. We became friends, but every time he left, I'd realize I didn't ask him where he lived, or who he was working for...again.

The creepiest thing that I remember however was the ice-cream truck. I think it came for the first time little over a year after I woke up that morning. I was wondering who would be manning the ice-cream truck. Perhaps I would be able to get some answers, or perhaps it would be a women who I could befriend. Lets be honest, being all by yourself is fine, but with only your right hand as a companion, well lets just say it tends to get lonely. 

But no matter how hard i'd try, I never got to see who was manning the truck. I could see the ice cream they would sell, right through the glass, but when I'd try to look at the driver's seat, it was as if I tried to look through tainted glass. Of course i'm not the most easy going guy around, it took me me several weeks before I accepted the fact that this was not the way out of my situation.

It wasn't until another year had passed that a thought popped up inside my head, I can still amaze myself by wondering why I never thought about it earlier. I was doing the dishes and looked at the fire alarm hanging above my stove. My parents had always made it a priority to teach me and my siblings how to cook properly, so I never payed much attention to it. But staring at it while I was waiting for the water to get warm enough to clean my plate, I started to wonder what would happen if a fire broke out. 


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Notes from me:


Right so.........the story has begun. I hope you will all enjoy it, as I stated at the beginning of my other legacy that can be found by clicking here, English is not my mother language. So if things don't read the way it should, then I apologize at forehand. 


My still nameless sim is Ryan Crist. He is the heir for the third generation of my other legacy.