Episode 53
Akasha
The man woke in blinding subtropical light.
His head throbbed. His arms ached. His whole body ached. He lay there, staring at the dusty red cobblestones. Hot and dusty. Street sounds, someone arguing angrily in another language, goats bleating.
He sat up slowly, wincing.
His eye was swollen. He put a hand to it groggily, took a sudden breath and let it out slowly. His other eye stopped blinking and he squinted in the light. He was sitting in an alleyway with walls of red earth. Sun beating down. He put his hand to his head and realised he was touching fresh scabs. His arms too: covered in dried cuts and bruises.
He was thirsty. His throat was raw, dry, as if he’d been shouting or screaming.
What? No. Where was he?
His tongue was moving.