Beginnings - Love You to Death

His mouth tasted like it was full of cotton, thick and dry. His throat felt constricted and sore as if he had swallowed a large rubber ball. Strange noises bounced around his brain, noises that he couldn’t place, causing him disorientation. Grayson slowly opened his eyes and immediately squinted from the bright glare of morning sun light. He, painfully, turned his head away from the light, his neck stiff. After a few moments, his eyes adjusted to the glare and the movement and color struggled back into hazy focus.


Grayson lay, partially covered by an overturned table, in piles of squished boxes, globs of greenish muck and other assorted garbage, in what appeared to be one end of an open air Asian fish and vegetable market. From the noises and movement near what appeared to be the entrance to the market, business was beginning. Shop owners began pulling back canvas tarp coverings and setting out the days offerings for display. The acute smell of old fish suddenly overwhelmed him. He gagged and his body shook, sending waves of pain throughout, revealing numerous other potential bruises or broken bones.

He stifled the gag reflex and attempted to assess his physical state. With what felt like a potential broken ankle as well as ribs and numerous bruising across the torso and legs, Grayson felt like he had been hit by a Mack truck. Instinctively, he felt that he needed to hide. Although he couldn’t remember what had happened to him or how he had come to be there, discarded and broken, in the trash of an Asian market, his brain was now working on overdrive, sending unfamiliar survival signals. His memory was a fog. His breathing was ragged and he had little strength but he responded to the urgent warnings of self preservation.

Customers had begun exploring the market place and were slowly approaching the area where Grayson lay pinned under the table. It would only be a matter of moments before he would be noticed. With some effort, he pushed himself backwards, freeing his legs of the table. He strained and pulled to turn himself around over the piles of trash until he faced the nearest booth. He then began army crawling on his elbows toward it.

The front display tables were draped in stained white cotton sheets which hung to within inches of the dirt floor. The display tables of this particular booth were stacked with 50lb bags of rice. Worming his body under the rice table, he shifted to his left side and wedged himself in and around additional boxes stored there. His body screamed from the movement.

With two swollen fingers, he reached forward and lifted the hem of the table drapery. A paved access road ran along the back of the market. Vender trucks were scattered in the dirt between the market and the road.