His eyes flickered open slowly. Black. Bright. Black. Then bright again. He was lying on his back with the ground rough and cold beneath his torso. There was a distant ringing in his ears that hit a note much too high for his own vocal chords to mimic. An uncomfortable pitch to match the uncomfortable sensation singing throughout the hollowness of his ear drums. Concrete? No, something less stable, less structured and defined. In an effort to regain some form of awareness the man began to lift himself up from the hard earth. A wince and a curse. His mind was spinning, and his body was aching with the faint loom of pain drumming through his bones. Like the consistent rhythm of a drum major’s organized beats against the timpani. He reeled his head up and opened his eyes wide, letting in the wavering light flickering above his head. A streetlamp perhaps? His pupils dilated in response to the rays of light pouring through his retina. He quickly lowered his eyelids and squinted at the blurred scene around him as he shifted himself into a sitting position.

He let out a quick "tsk" as he brought his palms up from the ground. Gravel. Sharp crunches of small rock had pierced his palms. He dusted them off and took in the rest of his surroundings. It’s nightfall; the stars are out and a waning crescent rests idly behind a thin blanket of white cirrus clouds that decorate the world above his head. The sky is dark and the air is cool. The man let out a frustrated sigh as he pulled himself to his feet. After one unsuccessful step, he found himself grasping onto the body of the street lamp for support. His legs were fine, but it was his head that was making things difficult. It felt as if a wave of intense pain dug its way through the folds of his brain. Gripping the luminescent structure, he hung his head in agony, waiting for the migraine, or at least that’s what he thought it to be, to dissipate into a sensation more easy to bear. He questioned the empty scene around him. Perhaps he was asking the street post.

“What the heck is going on?” He stared into the darkness, peering down the deserted dirt path before him. “I can’t remember anything, how can I not remember anything?”

As he slowly began to take in more and more of his destitute surroundings his heartbeat grew rapid. The air around him seemed to be depleting. Thinner and thinner. In and out. Breath in and out, in and out, in and out. At this rate he will reach hyperventilation before finishing his next thought. He looked around urgently expecting to see something of familiarity. Aside from the wooden post of his newly acquainted friend the rickety old street torch, there was not an object, not a tree, not a building recognizable. The path was too dark to see much of, and his eyes could barely manage to identify the faint blobs of lights hovering in the distance. Must be a nearby town. There were no buildings in his direct vicinity which only increased the dread and confusion harbored inside his chest. He continued to snap his head every which way looking for a clue, a recollection, a sign – Yes, a sign! A few feet behind him lay a short formation of bricks built around the square surface of the sign placed in the center, like the welcome sign at the entrance of a subdivision. Only a lot less welcoming and a lot more deterring. There were only two words engraved on its surface. Two words that made his heart stop. He blinked, reading it over and over just to be sure. His eyes widened in despair as he shook his head back and forth at those two troublesome words: DANGER MINEFIELD.

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.