I wake for the first time and hear the wind as it roars past my ears.
Like a drunk becoming conscious for the first time after a blackout, I suddenly realize where I am, yet have no recollection of how I got here.
I am falling.
The sky is pure and bright and blue and fortified with immaculate and crisp clouds that I can see perfectly. Every single detail is observable and perfect, like I have just gotten a new prescription on my glasses.
And I am falling.
I don't remember if I jumped from a very high place, or if I tripped off of something, but I must've been very high up.
I cannot see the ground.
It must be very far away.
The odd part about falling is that there is no choice in the matter. Most of the time, when I move, I have a choice in the direction that I will go.
With falling, there is only one direction, and you have no choice, no Freedom, no will to control which direction that is.
It is always down.
I am leaving those pure blue skies now.
Although I can see no Sun, the sky is turning orange and red and morose, like a winter's sunset, only the clouds are grey and swirling and full of apocalyptic flashes of lightning.
The thunder is so booming and sonorous and terrifying that I feel as though my soul will be shaken from my body.
It reminds me of something, something horrifying, but I cannot remember what.
Because I have no memory.
Only a vague sense of self.
Only a vague sense of once being a person.
And I keep falling.
But there is no ground in sight.
The sky around me turns dark.
Darker than dark.
Darker than when you close your eyes at night when you pull the covers over your head.
This isn't normal. This isn't right. This isn't darkness.
This is the absence of anything. This is the Void. This is the Abyss.
All of the sudden there is no more wind. There are no clouds, and even the fearsome lightning has left me.
Nothing around me.
And I am the only thing that exists.
Alone, by myself.
And I know now,
That I am in Hell.