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Chapter 2 I lick my cracked lips and try to take a deep breath, I cough and splutter as thick salty fluid runs out of my mouth. I gasp for air, pushing up off the grey sand around me. Where am I? I look around. A beach surrounded by familiar wood debris, a tree line thick with shrubbery and bushes buffers the valley from the ocean behind me. I'm not dead... How is that even possible? I get onto my feet, and check myself for any injuries. There's a deep gash on my leg covered in sand and blood which has stopped the bleeding. I stop to look further down the sandy coast, and spot someone laying in the water. I start walking, limping slightly. That wave, destroyed everything. Killed everyone. Good, I think. That boat was my home, but it was hell. Working for no pay, getting beaten by the crew, raped by that big brute. They are all dead now. I couldn't be more pleased. I get closer to the mangled mess that used to be a man. I close my eyes and turn away, heading into the tree line of thick brush. I am not going back, not a chance. I will be my own man. I will choose my own path. My parents will pay for their behaviour, specially my father. That lying mongrel of scum and waste. He deserves to rot for selling me, his own son. I duck under a thick branch and step on some crunchy dry leaves. I've just realised I have no shoes and my clothes are ravaged. I must find some soon or my feet will be raw and bloody. I spy a goat path in the bush and decide to follow it. It could lead to a farmhouse, where there are clothes and possibly shoes. I'm not above stealing, specially in my current situation. I'll take whatever I can get. The goat path winds through the thick forest quite easily. It's easy on the feet so I begin moving quickly. The sun is high in the sky, I must have been out for a few hours lying in the sand. The path opens up to a small creek, hidden by a canopy of trees and over growth. I stumble to the water, remembering my dire thirst as I drink my fill. I relax in a cold, smooth boulder. Polished by years of water running over it's surface. It's cool to the touch. I sit on the grass and leaves and lean back on the stone. My eyes close on their own, and I'm asleep in moments. *** I stir and awaken quickly. It's dark. The moon is lighting up the trees and shrubs as I remember where I am. I hear something. It's faint, but it's not a sound from the forest. It's music. I get up and start making a bee line towards it. The moon is high and bright, giving me plenty of light to see my way around rocks and logs in my path. As I approach the music, it starts to sound familiar. Like a forgotten memory your stretching out to grasp but never seem to reach. I notice lights through the thick brush, flickers and flashes of colour stream onto the foliage in front of me. City lights? No, something else. I slow my pace down when I start to hear voices and shouting. I peel back a heavy branch and am mystified with amazement. It is a city, but not of bricks and stone. Rows and rows of caravan tents, carriages of robust shape and size. That wasn't the most mystifying part though, as I looked up, I saw the canvas top, domed in white and red stripes, hovering over the fabric, wheeled city higher then the tallest trees. A white flag blowed slowly in the pole on the peak, with the silhouette of a man with his arms up, a top hat on his head, and the tails of tuxedo drapped below. As I stared in astonishment at the gargantuan size of this big top, I've unconsciously walked out of the bushes I was hiding myself from, and into the clearing. I see a worn out poster stuck on the side of the closest carriage in sight. The only words I could make out in the dimly light surrounding were... 'PLASTIC BABYLON'