Writing time...

It's that time again! More literary strangeness for the writer's workshop by Mama's Losin' It. This bit is a flight of fancy (a somewhat foreboding flight of fancy, that is) of a slightly surreal situation. It's somewhat written in broken thoughts - the way I think, the way I imagine, the way I visualize. :)

You awaken with amnesia in what looks to be an igloo. You have $4 and a rock in one pocket, and a toothbrush in the other. Someone is staring at you. Write this scene.

Blackness... ow... my head hurts. Feels like somebody embedded a gutter nail into my right temple. I put my hand to the right side of my face and head; crust flakes away from the skin. Dried blood - caked on my face and in my hair. Wonderful. What the hell happened to me? My head pulses in short little stabs of pain, but other than that, I feel fine. I can feel a large gash above my right ear... and stitches?

I bolt upward, sitting forward as the blanket falls from my face and chest. The light assaults my senses. As my eyes adjust, I see musty white with a hint of cyan everywhere. Ice? Holy crap, it's cold. Where the hell is my shirt? Wow, there's dried blood all over my chest and right shoulder and arm too. I pull the blanket around me as I slowly begin to discern my surroundings. One opening in the wall, a table with a picture frame upon it, this bed, a gas heater, the walls curve inward as they go upward. Is this a freaking igloo?

I stand from the bed and begin looking around. In a box by the bed, I find a shirt, coat, gloves, hat, and shoes. I guess it's time to get dressed. Now properly attired for this chilly environment, I decide to explore the igloo a little more. What first catches my eye is the picture frame on the table. It contains the photo of a little Beagle staring soulfully at me. I slide the photo from its frame and look at the back, "C.J. Rufus, 3 years old." Ah, a pup named C.J. Rufus?! That feels familiar to me. Come to think of it, I have no idea who I am. The wound on my head must have done more damage than I thought. There's nothing else in here worth examining so I might as well take a look outside.

Walking through the entrance of the little ice hut, I take a step outside. Nothing. An empty, vast, expanse of nothing. White ground and blue sky as far as my eyes can see. Well, at least the skies are clear and the sun is at my back. There is nothing here, just a glacial wasteland that looks to stretch for miles in all directions. Wait, I think I see mountains on the horizon behind the igloo's entrance. Damn, I can't even tell which way is North.

There are no tracks here, no signs of life. So I slide my hands into the coat's pockets feeling a bit defeated and demoralized. Hello, what is this? From the right pocket I pull out four American dollars and a rock. A lot of good four dollars will do me in the middle of a frozen forsaken wasteland. Well, at least I can use this money as tinder in case I need to start a fire. I can also use the rock as a weapon, if needed. In my left pocket, I find a toothbrush! Hmmm... well at least I dont have to worry much about my oral hygiene. Yet it seems I'm just finding more questions and no answers.

Who am I? Why am I in the middle of a arctic wasteland? What happened to my head? Was that puppy mine? Where do I go from here?