On the rooftop of the hospital, I sat with folded legs, lost in the sea of sounds drifting from the world below. The breeze carried whispers of joy from the people enjoying the seaside, mingling with the distant hum of the mall, alive with its own rhythm. Yet, amidst this vibrant symphony, I felt trapped in a bubble of isolation.
Three years ago, I was a banker, thriving in the corporate world until the ground suddenly gave way beneath me. The fall landed me here, in this hospital, where the sounds of life outside only amplified the silence within. The bank, surprisingly, had stood by me, continuing my salary, a gesture of loyalty that only deepened my guilt.
My colleagues, too, made their way to visit, their attempts at lifting my spirits a poignant reminder of what I once was. But their visits, though well-intentioned, underscored the chasm between us – they had their lives, their freedom, while I was bound to this place.
The cacophony of life – birds singing, traffic humming, people laughing – it all felt like a cruel taunt. Why did everything have to have limits? Why couldn't I decide my own boundaries? The world seemed a cage, and I was trapped in this hospital, a prisoner of circumstance.
As I sat there, the sounds of the city – the birds, the traffic, the hum of conversation – were a constant reminder of the world I'd lost. I felt like a bird in a cage, beating its wings against the bars, searching for a way out. But what was the point? We were all trapped, each in our own way, prisoners of circumstance, fate, or our own mortality.
I sat on the hospital rooftop, lost in thought, the familiar ache of confinement settling in like an old friend. We were all trapped, I mused – humans, animals, birds, insects – each of us confined to our own gasket, unable to break free. The thought swirled, a maddening vortex, as I wondered if we were all just waiting for our cages to rust away with time.
Days blurred into years, tidal waves of monotony crashing against the shores of my mind. The hospital, my prison, stood sentinel, a constant reminder of my limitations. I recalled the day I was rushed here, my life hanging by a thread as the machines beeped and whirred around me. Why were they fighting so hard to save me? I was a shell of a man, barely clinging to existence. The question echoed, a refrain, as my vision blurred and I took my last breath at 47 years.
Darkness swallowed me whole. No peace, no release, just an endless expanse of nothing. And then, whispers. Muffled voices, like the gentle hum of a summer breeze. I couldn't see, but I sensed others around me, their presence a comfort, yet a reminder of my isolation.
Four days passed, or maybe an eternity, before I opened my eyes to a world unlike any I had known. My hand, tiny and fragile, belonged to a newborn. A woman, my mother, spoke with a nurse, their words lost on me. The hospital, ancient and unfamiliar, told me I was in a different era, a different world.
My mother eyes, a deep, sorrowful brown, met mine, and I saw a flicker of... something. Regret? Resignation? She left, abandoning me like a feather dropped by a bird in flight, leaving me to wonder why I was cast aside. 'Whore,' I cursed her, my infant mind unable to comprehend the complexities of her decision.
As I lay there, a tiny, helpless being, I wondered what lay ahead. Would I survive in this fragile existence? And what of the cage, the one I thought I'd escaped? Was I doomed to be trapped once more?
I stared at the ceiling, my infant gaze taking in the unfamiliar surroundings. The medieval world I'd found myself in was a far cry from the hospital I'd left behind. No sterile beeps, no hushed whispers, just the rough-hewn wooden beams and the distant clang of pots from the kitchen below.
A bitter thought crept in, a familiar refrain, why me? Why was fate so cruel, always leaving me to pick up the pieces? But I pushed it aside, a spark of defiance igniting within me. I'd been given a second chance, a chance to live like a free spirit, unshackled by the chains of my past.
I took a deep breath, feeling the unfamiliar lungs expand, and smiled. It didn't matter that I was alone, a tiny, helpless being in a world without modern comforts. I'd make my own way, forge my own path. No electricity, no phones, no games – just me, the world, and the endless possibilities.
As I lay there, a sense of liberation washed over me. I was a blank slate, a newborn with all memories, no expectations. I could be whoever I wanted, do whatever I pleased. The thought sent a thrill through me, and I kicked my tiny legs, a tiny fist clenched in determination.
Bring it on, world. I'm ready.