The Abandoned Tales

…Nothing.

    My senses are returning, one at a time. First is my sense of hearing.

    Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip. Is there a leak? Just that very thought tells me I can form basic, logical conclusions.

    Here comes the next sense. Touch.

    Drip-plop. I feel the tiny droplet of water slide down my face. I might as well be crying, but I have no emotions to support a conclusion indicating I am sad. With the sense of touch comes the notion that the surface I am on is very cold. And probably dirty. My initial reaction would be to try to stand or sit up. I can do neither. I shiver. The only upside is that I now know I am completely unhurt, except for a minor  headache.

    A third sense graces me. This time it is taste. Licking my lips, I taste nothing, but I realize they are dry. I suddenly feel thirsty, and it hurts to swallow.

    Smell comes back. The only noticeable scent is musty air and a hint of…blood? That is quite the scary thought. I can’t be concerned with it.

    The only sense I’m not sure about is sight. Either the room is pitch black or I’m blind. I guess I’ll find out in the long run.

    I feel very tired. Was I not sleeping a few minutes ago? I may as well just lay here. I’m in no danger, so it wouldn’t hurt to-

    “Do not sleep.”

    Hearing is definitely back. I recognize the voice as one of a stallion’s, but I have never heard it in my life.

    “Can you speak?”

    For a moment, it seems I have forgotten how to form speech. Grabbing for words, I sputter out:

    “Y-yes.”

    “Good. Can you tell me who you are?”

    For the first time since my awakening, I have hit a mental wall.

Who am I?