Visionless

I wake up suddenly, my stomach growling with hunger. Confused, I wonder why I'm so hungry all of a sudden. I realize I skipped dinner, and now I'm paying the price. Just as I was about to relax, my stomach protests again, reminding me there's no rest for the hungry.

I open my eyes slowly, expecting to see my bedroom ceiling. Instead, I find myself staring up at the open sky. Panic starts to rise within me as I realize nothing around me looks familiar.

I try to stand up, but something feels off. Looking down, I see a child's body where my own should be. Fear grips me, and I struggle to catch my breath. This isn't right. Something is really wrong.

I take a deep breath, trying to steady the rapid beat of my heart. Inhale. Exhale. With each breath, I feel the panic receding, replaced by a growing sense of calm. I close my eyes and focus on the rhythm of my breath, letting it anchor me in the present moment. Gradually, the tightness in my chest begins to ease, and I regain control over my racing thoughts. Inhale. Exhale. I repeat the process until I feel centered and composed, ready to face whatever lies ahead.

I take another look around and notice an alleyway that leads someplace.

I pause at the entrance of the alleyway, taking in the bustling scene before me. The sound of people grows louder as I approach, my steps quickening in anticipation. Suddenly, I stumble, barely managing to catch myself against the wall.

"I'm not used to walking in this body yet. I should slow down," I remind myself, regaining my balance before continuing forward.

As I emerge from the alley, I'm greeted by a sight straight out of a medieval village. Stone buildings line the streets, carts being pulled by donkeys and horses, and the air is filled with the chatter of people speaking in a language I've never heard before.

Where am I? Am I dreaming? The thought crosses my mind, but everything feels too vivid, too real. Perhaps it's just a very lifelike dream. I try to reassure myself, clinging to the hope that any moment now, I'll wake up to the sound of my alarm. But even as I entertain the idea, I can't shake the nagging feeling of hunger and fear that gnaws at me.

I hurry back to the alleyway where I first woke up, desperation clawing at me. Maybe if I pinch myself, I'll wake up? I give my arm a tentative pinch, feeling a slight sting but no awakening from this bizarre reality. Panic threatens to overwhelm me as I grapple with the notion that this might actually be real.

Just as despair begins to sink its claws into me, a distant sound pierces through the haze of my thoughts—a bell ringing in the distance. The repetitive gonging pulls me back to the present moment, grounding me in reality.

Before panic can fully take hold, my stomach growls loudly, a stark reminder of my immediate need for sustenance. Food. I need food. The sound came from a church, maybe? They might have food there. With newfound determination, I push myself up and head out of the alleyway, following the direction of the bell's chime in search of nourishment.

As I make my way through the unfamiliar town, I pass by more of its inhabitants, all seemingly heading in the same direction. Along the way, I notice stalls selling a variety of goods—vegetables, fruits, clothes, and accessories. The sights and smells are overwhelming, but one familiar scent catches my attention amidst the chaos—the aroma of freshly baked bread. My stomach growls in response, urging me to follow the scent.

I quicken my pace, my determination to reach the church growing stronger with each step. But temptation pulls at me as I spot a bakery ahead. I pause, torn between my hunger and my mission. With a sigh, I remind myself of the urgency of my situation. The church is my priority.

Pressing on, I eventually come upon a small clearing where the church stands, its bell tower reaching towards the sky. As I approach, the doors swing open, revealing a man clad in clean robes and an unusual hat. In one hand, he holds a book, and in the other, an ornate bell.

Intrigued, I watch as he reads from the book, punctuating his words with the occasional ring of the bell. The ritual continues for several minutes until he closes the book and makes a hand gesture—a semi-circle with an upside-down cross. It's a signal for the waiting crowd to enter the church.

I take a deep breath, steeling myself for whatever awaits me inside, and join the throng of people entering the church. Whatever answers or refuge I may find within its walls, I'm willing to pursue.

I make my way through the crowd, feeling a mixture of curiosity and apprehension as I step inside the church—or whatever this place is. The interior is unlike any traditional church I've seen before. Instead of pews, there are long tables with wooden chairs arranged neatly around them, six in total. Beyond the chairs, a small platform catches my eye, likely where sermons are preached.

As I take in my surroundings, the tables slowly fill up with people streaming in from outside. I navigate through the crowd and find an empty chair at one of the tables. Sitting down, I wait patiently, observing the diverse gathering of individuals around me.

Suddenly, the same man from before ascends the platform, his presence commanding attention. He raises his voice to address the assembled crowd, and I lean in to hear what he has to say.

Every word he speaks seems to captivate the people around me. Even though I can't understand him at all, his mannerisms and tone of voice evoke emotion within me, transcending the language barrier. As he finishes his sermon, he makes the same hand sign as before. Shortly after, a group of women wearing clothes similar to his appear and begin handing out loaves of bread and bowls of soup.

the sight of food almost makes me tear up and i start to dig in, i make sure i eat slowly as im not sure how long its been since this body last ate anything. i take my time eating and looking around, i look at the food and how it looks, and also the people around me the clothes they are wearing there faces and mannerisms, i look ate the man from befor and see him talking to one of the lady's that brought us food. and i finally look at my self and the clothe that i am wearing, it seams i was ither from a poor family or i was a beggar of some kind.

all my clothes are tattered and dirty there are a few holes here and there. i put my thoughts aside for now and go back to eating ill need all the energy i can get to think of something later.

Once I'm finally done with my food, I sit for a while and think about my current predicament. "I'm currently inside the body of a small child in a place I don't recognize, with a language I can't speak". I take a deep breath and continue pondering my situation.

"What are my options for now? I can continue thinking that this is a dream and wait until I wake up. There's also the possibility that this is the result of a coma—let's call that option (A). Option (B) is that I am somehow in a different world altogether, which is insane. In fact, the sheer impossibility of this scenario almost makes me want to laugh if it weren't for the bits of evidence scattered around me. For example, the language is unlike anything I have ever heard; it sounds too alien in terms of the sounds and mouth movements". I think back to the few times I talked and notice the sheer difference between the way I spoke in my old body and this one. It's like this body isn't used to making those mouth and tongue movements at all.

But that's not all. The architecture is very medieval, and there doesn't seem to be any electronics or electricity for that matter. The church is lit by sunlight streaming in from the large windows above where I'm sitting. The food is another clue: its lack of basic spices is a stark contrast to what I'm used to, further suggesting I'm in a different time or place. This place feels so different from anything I know, and the reality of it all is starting to sink in. I put my thoughts aside for now and focus on gathering as much energy as I can. I'll need it to figure out my next steps.

For now, I'll go with option (C), which is a mix of the previous options. If I'm in a coma, me walking around and doing things won't change anything. And if I'm not, then it's in my best interest to start a plan of action on how to tackle this bullshit scenario.

I take a deep breath, pushing aside the confusion and fear. One step at a time.

"could i get a job? no probably not at least not with the language barrier and my clothes and appearance is also an issue"," first things first is going to be the clothes, i need to find a way to fix them or get new ones, after that is my appearance for that ill need to find someplace with water to clean my self, learning the language will have to wait until i can safly and consistently get food and water even if its the more important of the bunch" i finally stand up from my seat and make my way outside and back into the alleyway i cam from" this could be a decent place to start, not many people come and its pretty empty" i commit the place to memory then make my way out and back on to the street" for water ill need to go outside there is no telling how polluted or dangerous the water here is plus i might find more food out side and a better place to sleep!" with that in mind i slowly make my way toerds what i think is the end of the Towne in hopes of finding a gate or entrance, as i make my way there i silently speak to my self to experiment with the language" this language is very archaic its like mixing multiple languages and accent's all into one massive mess!, even now as im speaking i have a bit of an accent "

I weave through the narrow, cobblestone streets, carefully avoiding eye contact with the locals. The town is bustling with activity—merchants shouting about their wares, children playing, and townsfolk going about their daily routines. Eventually, the streets start to widen, and the buildings become more spaced out. I keep walking, and soon enough, I reach what I believe to be the town's gate.

The gate is large and sturdy, made of thick wooden doors with iron bands. It looks strong enough to withstand an assault. The wood is dark and weathered, showing its age. Large iron hinges connect the doors to massive stone pillars on either side. Above the gate, a stone archway bears a carved emblem, though I can't decipher its meaning.

Two guards stand on either side of the gate, wearing simple armor and holding spears. They look alert but not overly aggressive. Beyond the gate, I can see a glimpse of the countryside—rolling hills, lush greenery, and a dirt path that winds its way into the distance.

I cautiously approach the gate, keeping my head down to avoid drawing too much attention. As I get closer, the guards glance in my direction but don't seem overly concerned. One of them gives me a brief, assessing look, but they both remain at their posts, their expressions neutral. I take this as a good sign and continue walking, trying to appear as non-threatening as possible.

Passing through the gate, I step onto the dirt path leading out of town. The air feels fresher here, and the sounds of the bustling town gradually fade behind me. I pause for a moment, taking in my surroundings. Rolling hills stretch out before me, dotted with patches of greenery and the occasional tree. A dense forest looms on the horizon, its canopy a mix of dark greens and browns.

I take a deep breath, feeling a mix of relief and apprehension. "This is a good start," I mutter to myself, looking around for potential places to find clean water and perhaps some food. The countryside seems quiet and peaceful, a stark contrast to the crowded town I just left behind.

In the distance, I notice a stream glistening in the sunlight, winding its way through the landscape and disappearing into the forest. The promise of fresh water draws me towards it. I begin walking along the path, keeping my eyes open for any signs of food or shelter.

As I get closer to the forest, the trees become taller and more numerous, their branches creating a natural archway above the path. The forest feels alive, with the sounds of birds chirping and leaves rustling in the gentle breeze. I can't help but feel a sense of cautious optimism as I step into the shade of the trees, wondering what challenges and opportunities lie ahead in this new environment