He awoke to silence.
But not the kind of silence you'd find in a hospital room—this was deeper. Wilder. The air was cold, crisp, and foreign.
His eyes fluttered open.
Above him, instead of a ceiling filled with machines and tubes, there was… wood—rough, dark beams forming a pointed roof.
He blinked slowly. The ceiling didn't move.
He could hear the faint crackling of a fire, and distant crickets chirping through wooden slats.
He sat up...
It was easy.
Effortless.
His heart skipped a beat.
He looked down and saw a small frame beneath a thick patchwork blanket—arms, legs, perfectly shaped, soft-skinned, healthy.
He wiggled his toes.
They moved.
His eyes began to sting. "What is this…?"
He swung his legs to the edge of the bed, pressing bare feet to the wooden floor.
No pain. No tubes. No straps. No nurses.
He walked. Actually Walked.
---
There was no mirror—but an old, polished metal tray hung on the wall caught his reflection.
A boy stared back.
Maybe seven years old, dark tousled hair, skin pale but glowing in the firelight. His eyes—his eyes—were different. Deeper. As if they carried an entire lifetime of pain behind them.
He tilted his head slightly.
Brought his hand to his cheek.
"…is this… me?"
A dozen thoughts crashed together.
Who is this boy? Why am I in his body?
Am I dreaming? Is this even real?
---
He reached for the wooden door and pushed it open.
---
And then the world opened up.
A sharp, cool wind brushed across his cheeks as he stepped outside.
It was night—but not the kind of night he remembered.
The sky above was vast and endless, painted in deep indigo and violet hues.
Two moons hung overhead — one silver white, the other glowing faintly blue —casting their twin light across the gently swaying grasslands.
The stars were radiant and countless—clusters and spirals painted across the heavens like scattered crystal dust.
Some blinked slowly, while others shimmered with strange, unknown colors. They felt… alive.
The night was alive, too.
From the edge of the grass, tiny golden fireflies danced.
From the trees nearby, nocturnal birds cooed softly, and insects chirped in harmony.
Even the houses—small dome-like wooden huts, some carved into hillocks—glowed faintly from within, their lanterns flickering gently like fire spirits.
It was a place untouched by smoke or steel.
A world that breathed in peace.
He stood there, frozen in awe.
Terrifyingly Beautiful
Breathtakingly Alive....
And then the memory came rushing back—
The accident. The regret. The slow death on a hospital bed.
His lips parted in a whisper.
"…so this is my second chance .... another world."
---
A voice called out behind him.
"You're up, huh?"
He turned. A large man approached with quiet footsteps, holding a chunk of firewood under one arm. His voice was low, gruff, but… calm.
"You don't remember much, do ya?"
The boy slowly shook his head.
The man gave a short sigh and nodded. "Didn't think so. You were nearly frozen when I found you. By the old stream bend. No memory, no name. Guess that means I get to name you, huh?"
Man smiled faintly.....
"Come back inside. It's cold tonight."
---
And so the boy stepped back in.
Into a small hut on the edge of a tribe he didn't know, in a world he didn't understand, with a body that wasn't his… and a second chance he hadn't asked for.
But as he lay down again and stared up at the wooden ceiling—
A single thought echoed in his heart:
".. May be this time. I will live without regrets."