A Day in the Life of

Slowly, he picked himself up. He was standing in the middle of a shallow river. Water, now dirty and sullied, slowly dripped down his front. He could feel the water slowly lap at his calves, washing away parts of his loose, decaying flesh as it did so.

Somewhere deep within the recesses of his mind, a dim flicker of thought sparked momentarily. He was dimly aware... that he vaguely resented being rudely jolted out of his deep slumber. Lethargy and apathy saturated every pore of his being, and he could not, did not, want to shake off the torpor that overwhelmed him.

It was then, that he became dimly aware of the figure standing in front of him. It was pinkish-yellowish in colour, and it was staring at him rather malevolently. It was not because the zombie (yes, for that was what the figure was, a zombie, and a rather grotesque one at that) harboured any particular feelings of hatred for him, he sensed, but more because like the twisted scowl and rotting flesh on its face, the malevolent stare was a permanent fixture.

He jerked. It was not due to reflex action, nor was it because he desired it so. A strong will gripped his mind, compelling him forward, down the river, following the zombie. It was then he realised that he was hued in shades of muted blue. The iron will gripped his mind even more strongly, propelling him forward aggressively, such that his feet dragged upon the ground, and it seemed that he was gliding...

A small skirmish was currently taking place in front of him, as the rotting, animated corpses of ghouls engaged treants. He froze suddenly, held in place by that iron grip, as smaller, warped versions of the zombie overtook him. Like him, they were bluish in colour, but there, the similarities ended, he believed. He was jerked forward again, the iron will insistently compelling him on, as he threw himself at a...largish, overgrown...tree. A living, moving (albeit, it was moving rather slowly), tree, crushing him with heavy, rootlike claws. Roots burst out of the ground beneath him, wrapping around his legs as the roots mercilessly crushed him.

His final thought, as he...what was his final thought? He couldn't remember...
He vanished in a puff of smoke.

Life is an illusion.