“Fuck,” He grumbled as he grabbed
his head, “I didn’t think I drank that much last night.”

His eyes were still closed as he
pulled himself into a sitting position, worried that the sun light would cause
his headache to get ten times worse.

            “Fuck me,” he said once more as he
curled his knees up against his chest and tucked his head in between them.

            Fighting a wave of nausea that was beginning
to loom. He really didn’t want to throw up, but the chances were good that he
just might do so. He also knew that he couldn’t keep his eyes pressed shut all
day. As much as he would like to lay back down and go back to bed, he knew that
there were things he had to get done. A job that he had to get too and as much
as he would like them too the bills were not going to pay for themselves.

            So, with one last deep breath and a
prayer to a god, that he wasn’t even sure he believed in, he opened his eyes.
The light him like a mac truck and for a split second he couldn’t see anything
at all but that flash of light. As his eyesight began to normalize, he felt
like he could very well still be in a deep sleep after all.

            The ground underneath his feet was
wood and though clean it showed signs of wear and tear. That was about the only
thing that could be considered normal about his current situation. To his right,
what looked like miles away was a keyboard and before that was computer
monitor. Both appeared to be much bigger than his current form but my how much
he couldn’t say from this distance. To his left was the base of a desk lamp.

            This gave him his first true sense
of scale as the base rose above him for what seemed to be miles. Stories and
stories tall. Directly above him, was not the sun, but a light bulb which
rained light down upon him. It appeared as if someone has purposely angled it
to point at him.

“What
the fuck,” he said giving himself a good slap.

            There was pain. A lot of pain as he
did not hold back in the slightest as he was determined to pull himself out of this
weird dream. Was he not dreaming? They said you couldn’t feel pain in a dream.
The thing is how many dreams could he actually, truly, remember anyway. Most of
the time as soon as he awoke the memory of the dream flittered away. Sometimes
in seconds. So, was it actually true that one didn’t feel pain or was that some
kind of old wives’ tale?

            He looked beyond the desk and noticed
that he, at least, appeared to be in some kind of bedroom. Though the furniture
was limited. There was a bed pushed up against the window, the window being partly
cracked open. He could hear the wind rustling the trees outside. On the opposite
wall was the door to exit the room as well as the closet (which was currently
closed). Other from that was the desk (at least that is what he figured it was)
that was pressed against the back wall and a dresser that was placed on the
other side of the desk on the left-hand side.

            He couldn’t even begin to comprehend
the size of that dresser. It was like his brain would not allow him to do so in
fear of going insane. There were four things that were blatantly obvious from
his quick glance around… 1) He had no idea who this bedroom belonged to in the
slightest. He was certain that he had never stepped foot in it before today. 2)
The lights were currently off. Other from the one that was centered on him of
course. 3) The room, save for the desk, was a pig’s sty. It was littered with
trash, clothes, and whatever else he couldn’t make out from his current vantage
point. Not that he really wanted to find out anyway. 4) The occupant of the bedroom
was currently not in here. Unless he or she was currently hiding in the closet
waiting to pop out at him.

            No, it appeared that he was completely
alone and after another quick thought, why wouldn’t he be? Why would whoever do
this to him have to worry about leaving him alone? With his current size and
the size of the desk it was clear he wasn’t going anywhere. It would take him
minutes to reach the edge of the desk and then what? Jump? He didn’t think so.
He would probably die before hitting the ground at his size.

            In his current state he was stuck
here. He couldn’t do a damn thing but wait for someone to come in here. Maybe
then he would get the answers to his current predicament. He slapped himself once
more. Hard. His cheek stung. Was it true? Can one not feel pain? He hoped whoever
had said that was wrong. Making a note that if he did happen to wake up to tell
people. To not forget.