It was supposed to be just another day for me. My alarm had gone off at the usual time, and after a heroic and grueling battle with my blanket and its loyal companion, the pillow, I finally managed to drag myself out of bed, moving on autopilot toward the kitchen. The rich aroma of freshly brewed coffee filled the air, promising me a semblance of comfort and normality before the day’s demands took over.

  Coffee, that magnificent drink of the gods, your only true friend in the morning. A kingdom for a cup of coffee. But just as I reached for my cup, my entire world changed.

  A blinding flash of light filled my vision, forcing me to close my eyes instinctively. My body felt weightless for a moment, as though gravity had momentarily ceased to exist. For a brief while, I existed in that state, enveloped by surrounding darkness. It was a strange sensation, as if someone had cut off my senses and left me alone with nothing but my consciousness. The comforting feeling that accompanied it invited me to surrender, to dissolve into this wonderful state. But just as suddenly as it began, the moment ended when, unexpectedly, I felt an unknown force grab hold of my awareness and then yank it away.

  I faded out like a candle being blown out.

  Everything I was and everything I could have become ceased to exist.

  How long did it last? I have no idea. All I know is that suddenly, I woke up.

  When my sight returned, along with the rest of my senses, I found myself in an unfamiliar place. The warm rays of the summer sun caressed my face while simultaneously blinding my eyes, forcing me to squint. I wanted to voice my protest against such an unpleasant awakening, but instead of articulated speech, what escaped my mouth was something that, by even the most liberal definition, could not be classified as human speech. It sounded more like the dying gasp of an ailing coal miner on his deathbed. And I must say, it was quite convincing.

  The awful sensation was accompanied by a terrible dryness in my throat and an overwhelming thirst, an unbearable craving to moisten my lips with even the tiniest drop of life-giving liquid. In short, I desperately needed water.

  Damn, I’m thirsty.

  And of course, at that exact moment, my treacherous mind decided to remind me of the cup of coffee I never got to taste, filling me with anger at this terrible, utterly undeserved injustice. Filled with righteous fury, I instinctively tried to move—which turned out to be a mistake. A terrible, terrible mistake.

  A sharp, unpleasant pain shot through my body, coupled with a sensation of complete exhaustion and a series of dull, throbbing aches in my muscles and joints, spreading like ripples in a lake after someone had thrown a stone into it.

  A big stone.

  I lay there for a while, trying to outlast the cascade of unpleasant attacks on my poor, innocent body, when I realized that something wasn’t right. Something was very, very not right.

  My first clue was the annoyingly cheerful chirping of birds, which was getting on my nerves. I was suffering here, and these irritating little sparrows… Wait were they sparrows? Or titmouse? Or something else entirely? In my defense, I’m not an ornithologist, so how would I know? Let’s just say they were sparrows. So, these little bastards were happily chirping away while I lay there in agony on the cold, damp grass.

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  It must have been early morning because the dew hadn’t evaporated yet.

  Wait a minute! I opened my eyes wider, stirred by a sudden and unpleasant thought. Just moments ago, I had been in my kitchen, brewing coffee to face another day of struggle in this never ending battle for basic human needs otherwise known as work.

  So why the hell was I lying on the bare ground, listening to birdsong?

  Gently, carefully, like a bomb disposal expert defusing a particularly devious and treacherous explosive, I began to look around—and I have to say, what I saw made me forget about my pain and thirst for a moment. Because I was clearly lying in the middle of a clearing, surrounded on all sides by a dense forest.

  But that wasn’t the shocking part—or rather, not the only shocking part.

  Because I was sharing this clearing with what appeared, at first glance, to be looted and damaged wagons. Yes, I swear they were wagons. As if straight out of a historical reenactment or a medieval caravan.

  And, of course, bodies.

  Mutilated, lifeless human bodies.

  I closed my eyes, taking a deep breath, trying to grasp the sheer insanity of the situation I had found myself in and trying to calm my mind. Surely, as soon as I opened my eyes again, I would see my apartment. After all, rationally speaking, this had to be just a dream.

  An exceptionally vivid dream.

  Once again, I carefully opened my eyes, but despite my efforts, the unthinkable reality refused to disappear. And that was when the smell of death hit me. Yeah, that deep breath wasn’t the best idea. I grimaced slightly, and despite the absurdity of my current situation, I decided to accept my surroundings.

  After all, as the saying goes—if you can’t beat them, join them.

  Slowly, cautiously, I began to move, careful not to strain my aching muscles, but I quickly realized that I was in much better condition than I had initially thought. Strange. It was as if my state had drastically improved over time, which I welcomed with both relief and concern. Concern because it was definitely not normal. Oh well—just another stone to add to the ever-growing mountain of absurdity that was my current predicament.

  Breaking away from my thoughts, I focused on better examining the battlefield. Apart from the three destroyed wagons, scattered all over the ground were human corpses in various states. I counted eleven bodies, eight of whom were armed. Most of them resembled medieval knights, with a smaller group of more lightly armored fighters. Probably scouts, though I wasn’t sure.

  What I was sure of, however, was that a battle had taken place here—or, more accurately, one side of the conflict had been utterly and completely massacred. The attackers weren’t wild animals, either—that was evident from the wounds on the slain defenders and the fact that the caravan had been looted. After all, wild animals don’t ransack well-armed caravans. Or at least, wild animals didn’t loot caravans in the reality I knew.

  So, the most likely scenario was an ambush. The question now was whether it was just a robbery that turned into a slaughter, or a planned assassination that was meant to look like a robbery gone wrong.

  Hmmm…

  My contemplation of the attackers’ motives was suddenly interrupted by a glorious sight. Lying next to one of the unfortunate corpses was a real, honest-to-god canteen. I licked my cracked lips, and with a quick yet unsteady step—one that betrayed the extent of my hope and desire—I approached it. With hands trembling like those of a lifelong alcoholic reaching for his last bottle, I grasped the canteen.

  Heavy.

  I can’t even begin to describe the relief I felt at that moment. It was as if the weight of the world had been lifted from my shoulders and replaced with the hope that everything would be okay—that the world was, in fact, good. Even the birdsong, which had previously been a torment, now seemed pleasant and cheerful. I smiled at the thought and, with a swift motion, opened the canteen, taking deep, greedy gulps of water.

  I drank eagerly, rejoicing in the cool liquid.

  And after quenching my thirst, still basking in that wonderful blissful state, I looked at the canteen again. Hmm, it was kind of big, a little too big. I furrowed my brow, realizing that I might have overlooked something. Something important. I looked around once more and realized that everything around me was oddly out of proportion, as if oversized.

  I shifted my gaze to my own body…

  And out of my mouth escaped simple, calm words.

  “You've got to be fucking shitting me!”