A Stranger In A Strange Land

Soundless ringing pinged in Sayane’s mind. That was the first strange phenomenon that Sayane noticed when her consciousness returned. Even though she could sense a ringing, there was no pitch. It was a hollow vacuous ring that was therefore even more grating. Sayane’s mind slowly drifted into function and pain registered in her entire body.

Then her memory flashed images of what had just occurred, and the image of the scaffolding falling towards her jolted Sayane from her slumber with a scream of terror.

As soon as she was upright, Sayane’s eyes opened to reveal something very strange. Well, strange for her. For us, it was what you would refer to as a Tuesday. Still, for poor Sayane, it was terrifying. Opening her eyes revealed that she was not on stage in Nagoya anymore. Instead, she found herself in a damp, fog filled chamber where tiny rivlets of glowing purple light coursed through the fissures within the translucent black stone that lined the flooring and walls. Each stone was carefully carved into even, balanced shapes, with clear signs of intentional design. But that craft seemed lost to time as the stones were covered in dust and tales of neglect.

The air was cold and stale. Gasps of shock and confusion were the only thing to be heard as Sayane’s eyes struggled to adjust. Pain was coursing through her body like a barbed anchor being pulled along a mossy ocean bed. Splitting agony tore through Sayane’s head every time she attempted to open her eyes. Images of the falling scaffolding snapped and glitched through her thoughts, sending a shockwave of anguish through her being every time it replayed. Sayane pulled her arms to her chest as tears formed in her eyes and logic left her.

“Hello?...” she whimpered in utter confusion.

“Hello? I need help…” she whimpered.

Silence was her answer. Finally she forced herself to rip her eyes open even at the cost of excruciating awareness. Darkness pulsed in and out of focus as the rivlets of neon purple fluid pulsed through the stone. Beside her, a single stream of murky white and blue liquid drifted along a forlorn crevice. It made no sound as it flowed, even as rock and elevation changes churned the small stream into froth.

Long-scarred injuries in her left meniscus were back in full antagonism, sending shooting stabs of pain into her knee with every bend. Sayane grimaced and fell forward onto the cold stone. Gasps of strain echoed once more through the empty room as Sayane gritted her teeth and strained to sit up. This time, she noticed the echo was strangely muted, but it did not seem to be coming from her hearing. It seemed as though the actual sound was muted.

“What’s happening?” she cried.

“I need help…” she pleaded once more.

Still, silence was her only companion.

Strength betrayed her and she fell back to the floor as images of the falling scaffolding and her body being crushed glitched through her thoughts like isolated frames from a damaged film reel. Yes, I am familiar with film reels.

Consciousness came and went for what may have been days. The pain didn’t get better. If anything, it got worse, as the strained harnesses of hunger tightened around her like a vice. Like her too-tight corset.

Without opening her eyes, Sayane’s trembling hands clawed at her corset, ripping and ripping until the threads were loose and the corset fell to her side. Deep, shaking, breaths nursed flat air into bruised lungs.

Her throat was raw. Dehydration was robbing her of all fluid and threatening to send her into shock. Even though she was confused and lost, she sensed she shouldn’t drink the murky water beside her. She had to move.

“I have to get up. I have to get up. I have to move…” she commanded herself.

Shaking legs hoisted her broken body upwards so that she could grab onto the stone ledge for support. Touching it triggered a subtle pulse in the neon purple rivlet, which then began to softly strobe forward. To her surprise, Sayane found herself trusting its glow. Shock at the visual mixed with desperate trust, and thus Sayane began to crawl forward.

As she crawled, her vision was finally calm enough to take in the space in which she currently found herself. All around her, the pulsing fissures lined ornate walls that seemed to be a once grand hall. The ceiling was vaulted and several stories above her. After an hour of crawling, Sayane reached the end of the hallway and faced the opening.

A soft gasp of surprise left her lost lips.

Before her was a great ancient hall that was seemingly long-abandoned but also very much in use. Ruined columns were draped with banners and glowing neon lights. Unblemished crates for storage lined the walls. Dust hung glowing pink in the cold blue air. The ground and walls were once again made of translucent black stone with glowing neon purple fissures. Most importantly, all throughout the room were strange devices and machines. Some resembled instruments she knew. Others were thoroughly unrecognizable. Some were small enough to be held in her hand. Others were the size of homes.

Sayane abandoned her ledge of support and crawled to the center of the great room, which was a round elevated platform flanked by floral decorated columns. Wonder, confusion, shock, and disappointment all flooded Sayane’s body with a cocktail of adrenaline and loss. There was no water to be found.

Sorrow saturated Sayane and she slid to the ground as sobs shook her silhouette amidst the silence. Her eyes were closed and she didn’t notice that all of the pulsing fissures were now pulsing from their origins and directly to where she was laying in defeat. Sleep became her only option as hunger and thirst pulled at her soul.

Was she going to die? Was she already dead? What was this place? Where was she? Why did this happen? Was this really it? Why did this happen? Why did this happen?

All of it was wrong.

That was all Sayane could think as the cursed images of the falling scaffolding looped infinitely in her mind as hallucinations from starvation overtook her.

She was back in the meeting rooms being rejected by producers and having her song notes thrown in her face.

She was back in the exam room, being told her flexibility would never fully return.

She was late on rent and her landlord was banging on her door.

She was alone.

She was alone.

She was alone except for music.

Blurred glances of the strange instruments reminded her that music had always been with her. Even if it had not led to the career and success she had dreamt of, and even though she never got to connect with it the way she had wanted, music was her one consistent joy. Beyond the failure and rejection of the outside world, in her heart, music was the one thing that had never abandoned her or betrayed her.

So Sayane started to sing to herself, dear reader.

Yes, there in the strange room full of strange instruments, Sayane’s broken voice began to drift through the silence and stone. Tears strained to escape her unfocused eyes as life faded in and out, yet Sayane continued to sing. It was not a song from BrightStar. It was a song she wrote that she’d never been able to perform for a single soul.

"I watched all my dreams burn out. I never found peace but I found a way. Then I hit rock bottom and the bottom dropped out.”

Her voice was fragile yet crystal clear. As she sang with her eyes closed, she didn’t see the pulsing fissures begin to glow with a new radiance that grew and grew.

“Broken down and broke. All those words we never spoke.”

Faint angelic echoes of harmony echoed back to her. The very instruments themselves seemed to lean forward towards her collapsed body.

“Working two jobs every weekend. My legs gave out but I never gave in.”

All around her, tiny silver and pink flecks of incandescent light rose from the ground and drifted around her in a weightless dance.

“Sunsets turned to flames that turned to fear. The hopes almost faded out.”

Flames appeared on the walls in the long forgotten torches. Distant chimes gulped out in distorted pings. Existence was fleeting for Sayane as her voice shook while the weeping seized her entirety. What she did not hear were the muffled, hurried footsteps of several unseen bodies swiftly approaching from the hallway. None of it mattered. Sayane was dying once more, and this time it seemed permanent.

“Nothing remained except for me, and… I'm… still… here,” she finished as her voice trailed off.

Her eyes closed and the abyss pulled into every corner of her vision just as two figures appeared over her. Her last sight was that of a shadowy, angular figure with softly glowing rose-colored eyes, and an enormous, hulking mass of moving stone.

Darkness took her.

But dear reader and listener, you know this cannot possibly be the end for our beloved. I trust my recital of these events was handled with the somberness and reflective sorrow that should be afforded to Sayane’s darkest moment. I promise it gets better and lighter. I mean, it gets a lot of things, but overall I’d say better and lighter. But we’ll get to that in a bit. For now, I believe I need a nap. We shall resume on the morrow.