I woke up naked.
But that was only half my problem.
I was laying naked outside, in a corn field, freezing. I could feel the cold, hard ground beneath me; my body felt as though every bone in it had been broken, at least twice. The taste of blood in my mouth nearly rivaled all my physical pains, but my brain was going through its own form of torture trying to remember why I was outside, without a stitch on in the middle of November in northern Illinois.
I cracked my eyes open. My breath came out in frosty clouds as I strove to pull cold air into my lungs as if for the first time after waking up from being pronounced dead. Above me, I could see the crisp midnight-blue sky, stars glittering coldly, like indifferent specks, making me feel more alien than I had ever felt my entire twenty-one years. I knew what had happened—the reason for all this—but I couldn't remember what I had been doing for the last several hours. I knew time had passed because the stars were in a different configuration above me. And I didn't see the moon, full and bright, as I knew it had been when the transformation came over me.
I was experiencing a terrible death and rebirth and I was in my birthday suit. Death by cliche and rebirth from that terrible knowledge. How could I have fallen into the trap that I had set for myself? I had bitten my tongue and made it bleed when I should have bitten my fingernails because those guardians of the fingers that hit the keys, should've suffered for producing those awful phrases we've heard a million times before. I was naked, exposed on the site forever following a dark and stormy night that would stay with me and my cliches forever. Bare naked with my shame.
Opening: Lorelei Bell.....Continuation: Anon.