Bored World

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He lay prone, his eyes fluttering open.

Near-darkness granted the sky a dark blue hue. Was it early morning? Late evening? He didn’t know. Gentle winds rustled the tall grass surrounding him. Slowly sitting up, he took in his surroundings. There was nothing. Just tall grass all the way to the dark horizon.

His face grew increasingly more puzzled as he tried to remember how he got there. Last he remembered, he was in his apartment. Had he gone to bed? How did he get to this place?

Standing, he brushed the dirt off his overcoat and turned a full circle, surveying the landscape. He looked for anything. Anything at all. Any feature, no matter how minor, might tell him where he was or how to get home. There was nothing.

“…boredom…”

He cringed at the sudden… sound? No, it wasn’t a sound. It was a thought. But not his own.

“Who’s there?” he called out nervously.

“…me…”

Jerking his head about, he tried to find the source of the words. But they hadn’t come from anywhere. They had simply happened.

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