//------------------------------//
// Prologue: ...Wherein Nezzy decidedly does NOT flip out 
// Story: Waking Up 
// by DarkSeqvus 
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Prologue:
...Wherein Nezzy decidedly does NOT flip out


The young man stood with a grim expression on his face as he contemplated the swirling vortex before him. It was fairly large, nearly the size of a small cabin, and it simply... gaped open in the middle of the air, filling most of his field of view with an inky, blue-black void that, if he looked closely, seemed to be dotted with distant stars.
He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, running a hand idly over his messy, brown hair.
This is stupid, and you're stupid for going ahead with it, he thought to himself.
"Mmhm."
He stood for another minute, staring into the vaguely hypnotic depths of the vortex. It floated only several feet away in the open space, threateningly, tauntingly. It did not move, but it seemed to beckon, as if to say, Come on if you think you're hard enough.
...You're just going to do it anyway, aren't you.
The young man's face broke into a lopsided, irreverent grin. "Well, of course! At this point, there's no way I won't be jumping headlong into the horrifying rip in the fabric of space and time, is there?"
Well, it doesn't look too bad, but—
"Besides," he added, turning to look all around him, "It's not really like there's anything more than can be done here, right?" The smile faded to a more wistful expression. "If we can't do any good here..." He turned back to the chaotic phenomenon. "...We can at least hope that we can do something there."
I suppose. Assuming there even is a "there", and that we can reach it...
"True. But you know, I'd say we no longer have the option of stalling for time here. Don't you think so?"
The young man's inner voice replied with only a brief chuckle.
"Nothing to it but to do it, as the saying goes."
Fair enough. Alrighty, let's get this shitstorm underway.





Nezzy woke up with a start.
Eyes unblinking, he stared blankly at the wooden surface before him. It took several seconds before he could form a coherent, unnerved thought.
That is not my ceiling.
He sat up with a sudden jerk, nearly falling off the bed—
This is not my bed.
—And looked frantically around the room.
This is most definitely not my room.
Nezzy took a ragged breath. The rush of adrenaline from whatever inner trigger had woken him already had his heart pounding, and his disorientation was really not helping.
As he scanned the room, a few details made it through the confusion and lodged in his mind. The bed, on which he had been lying at a weird angle, was surprisingly short, only coming up to around his knees. The room itself seemed to be made—no, carved—entirely from wood: the ceiling, the walls, the floor. There was a rounded window through which tree branches were visible.
Nezzy turned around. Part of the room was not enclosed, opening into a large, open chamber that went down to the floor below. It also seemed to be carved from wood—with what appeared to be tree rings spanning the floor—and it had a number of pieces of furniture against the walls: a writing desk, tables, a hutch, and bookshelves carved into the wall.
And, worryingly, there was no one in sight.
"Hello?" Nezzy called out nervously. When he was answered with silence, he tried, more strongly, "Is there anybody there? Hello?" There was still no response, or at least none that could be heard over the heartbeat drumming in his ears.
He stumbled his way down a staircase to the main floor. He could now see a French door—a glimpse showed it led to a balcony—and a passage leading the floor below. Continuing downward, he entered another large room, this one furnished with only a small table in the center and a book stand off to the side. There were also more bookshelves carved into walls, almost all the way around. There was another passage leading further downward, but opting not to explore a strange basement, Nezzy called out again from the entryway, again with no luck.
Moving to another oval-shaped window, Nezzy could see some small buildings nearby, houses. He quickly made his way to the undersized door and exited. Outside he couldn't see any roads, just stretches of grass between buildings.
Still on edge, Nezzy walked a few hesitant steps before raising his voice.
"HELLOOOO! IS THERE ANYONE OUT THERE?"
A faint echo rang out and quickly faded as a stiff breeze disturbed the still air.
A note of desperation entered Nezzy's voice as he tried again. "HEEEEEEY! IS ANYONE TH—"
WHAP
A newspaper, propelled by the sudden wind, smacked Nezzy across the face, abruptly cutting him off. After a moment's pause, his hand started reaching towards his face, but the paper was blown away again.
In that brief moment, his face had transformed dramatically. The panic had disappeared from his eyes, replaced with an irritated look. His mouth now sported a small scowl.
Nezzy took a deep breath and exhaled noisily through his nose. Already his pulse was showing dramatically, and his legs felt much more solid. The confusion was still there, but it was overshadowed by an annoyed calmness as he replayed the last several minutes in his mind.
Looking around again, calmly, he could see a number of small houses—cottages?—as well as a clock tower and what was likely a town center not far away.
He stood for another minute, thinking, and then, calmly, he turned back to the door he had just used.
"Fuck this noise, I'm going back to sleep."