I'm sitting in a chair. I've ceased to notice how uncomfortable the hard blue plastic is. I've been sitting here for hours, days, months, maybe years. I couldn't tell you. I can hear the water lapping over the stones near my feet. It's pretty calm for the ocean. Everything is still. Nothing breathes in this night. And it is night. The darkness is complete save for the stars above me. Even they are still, cold, and distant. Like they're frowning on me. But they, like me, are waiting. I don't know how long I've been here, perhaps I've turned to stone with waiting. I can't feel anything. I can't move. I just wait.
And then it comes, as suddenly as lightning. There is no warning, no gentle glow kisses the eastern sky, only a blood red sun rises in the dark, spilling over me. And in an instant, my heart shatters into more pieces than I could count in a lifetime, and my life pours out of me, staining the stone the same blood red as the sun. Out pours my grief and my hurt, my anger and my fear, I choke on my pride as it pours out, and regrets pour over me again as they spill out. Everything is laid bare. I fall to my knees, and tears stain my cheeks. This then? This is what I've been waiting for? Destruction?
I didn't think I could feel any more pain, but suddenly there is a hook in my shoulder, long and curved like a fish hook. It yanks me, forcing me to turn to the west, and watch as the crimson light spills toward the west as I pour out to the east. I have to follow the light. I have no idea what could await me, but I know that anything is better than here, where everything I touch is stained by what has poured out of me.
Not a single word was spoken, but the message was clear. And then I wake up. A golden light is spilling through my window, and I can hear birds singing. I'm breathing heavily, everything felt so real, yet as I look around my room, nothing has changed. Except me. I am not the same person that went to bed. The moment I opened my eyes, everything had changed.
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