I don't know how long I've been here.

The ground beneath me is slashed with lines, their purpose to guarantee that time is never still. In this...place... or world...or dimension, the sun never sets and the moon never rises. Maybe because their existence is not welcome here. There is only soft white light that stream through the trees. It flickers and wanes, but never completely disappears. The light is my only friend, the only one who stays by my side.

When I first awoke, everything was drenched in darkness. I had raised my hands to my eyes but they were not visible. I proceeded to touch my shoulders and my legs, happy to know my body was there. Still, I refused to move and just lay there, hoping that I would wake up soon. As if to respond, a gentle breeze brushed against my damp cheeks, and I shivered. My dear, this is quite real. But do not fear. You are not alone.

That message, delivered to me in my mother's precious voice and in warmth that only she possessed, brought me to my feet. I needed to find her, the woman who blessed me with life and now gave me hope. I wanted her to give me real reassurance that I really was not alone. A tender hug, a little kiss, even just a fleeting touch. Anything.

That was when my dear friend the light took my hand and led me to where I am now, where it shines its brightest and strongest. It is here that, enveloped in a distant glow, I learned to survive.

I began by stripping loose bark from the enormous trees. After learning to use the shadows to my advantage, I stole rope from my neighboring tribes. Sometimes, after my raids, I remained behind my hiding spot, learning how those in the tribes lived off the land. I gained many skills in those secret lessons, and I managed to put together my tiny treehouse and ladder, located on the lowest branch of a tree that borders between the light and darkness. I also learned that I did not need food or water in order to survive. I thought I was ready for anything because I had everything.

It did not take long for me to realize that I was missing something. I was lonely. But I did not dare approach the tribes; they were far too hostile to each other, even to one of their own. Of course, I did still have the light, but I craved a true companion, someone who would answer me if I called.

To this day, I still look for the soft wind that brought me a part of my mother.


Today, a boy came.

I was sitting down and scratching at the dirt as usual, marking time. The soft patter of feet came first. I knelt stiffly, my long black hair swaying around my face. I closed my eyes and prayed it wasn't one of the tribes' men, that I wouldn't get punished for stealing from them. The footsteps became a little more louder, but it was more hesitant than a tribe man's confident strides. I took a chance and slightly turned my head.

His eyes. Big, bright eyes that reflected the light. It was the kind that, if you looked long enough, you could get lost in them forever.

He had my mother's eyes. I just know it.

Only instead of being filled with kindness and love, his was filled with curiosity and hope and longing.

I was staring so intently at him, I barely noticed he was coming closer. Yet when he finally stood in front of me, he touched my cheek with the same gentleness the wind had so long ago. It was then I was aware that I had tears on my face, like before.

I knew him, who he was.

That boy was my brother.

Based on the game LIMBO and its ending.