I'm having a bit of trouble telling the sky from the ground at the moment. Hopefully my vision recovers fully and I can venture further from my room. I can't quite describe what just happened, one moment I was submerged in water, and the next I'm standing dry as a bone in this bedroom. I like the water, I would like to go back. But I can't leave until my head stops spinning and my vision returns. I can see shapes, a bit of color, and enough detail to understand that this is a bedroom, but nothing beyond that. I'm also having trouble standing for long periods of time. I miss the water. I miss the way it draped across my body like a warm, tight hug. I hate that there's nothing here to replicate that feeling. I hate that there's no water. I would like to go back.

My eyes have started to clear, and with that clarity come questions. There are two doors within my line of sight at all times. One is a closet, in which a stiff uniform hangs from a metal hanger. The other is a door at the end of the room that I have yet gathered the courage to venture out of.

My memories have slowly started to resurface, but they're as foggy and dull as sea glass. I recall a curious color deep below the water's surface, and a hand, maybe mine, trying to reach it. I cannot remember who this light belonged to. I do not know if I felt pain when I touched it. But I'm certain it has something to do with transporting me to this unfamiliar place.

Something urges me to walk out of the other door. I think I'm going to try it.

It took the courage of twenty men to step foot outside this room. I would like to believe I wasn't always this cowardly, that maybe my bravery got lost during the voyage here, but there's no way to know.

At first there was not another soul in sight. I glared down the long corridors leading away from my room and felt seasick. It went on forever, but there was no one else wandering these halls. Maybe I was dead. For a moment I considered ducking back into my room and waiting to see what became of me, and that's when I heard a familiar miaow.

A splash of memory surfaced at the sound, but quickly dissipated when I located the source. A dilapidated old sack of fur with long whiskers and sad eyes. The shape was familiar. I almost knew what this animal was called, but the three letter word evaded me.

I didn't want to pick the thing up. It looked frail enough to keel over at a slight wind, as if touching it would reduce it to sand. Imagine my surprise when the thing stood up, revealing it's legs, and started to walk away.

I feel stranded here without the animal, so I'm going to follow it.

For as old as it was, that animal could run. I wanted to tread carefully through the haunting halls, but the quicker the creature ran the faster I was forced to follow. The sound of it's paws hitting the tile almost echoed down the long corridor. I had little time to take in my surroundings as I chased the thing. It led me to an open room, then promptly disappeared behind a pillar. That was the last I saw of the mangled pile of fur and bones.

Only then did I take a moment to catch my breath and gaze at the walls surrounding me. Dozens of framed portraits glared down at me, urging me to avert my gaze. I studied each one for a moment before moving to the next, curiously searching for a name. Beside the framed pictures of men and women was a collection of what looked like class photos, dozens of them, all stacked from the bottom of the wall to the top. They had years on them. I thought I was clever when I realized it was the year each class graduated, but that confidence drained when I realized some of them had dates set far in the future.

I was right back where I started, confused, out of sorts, and alone. I stole another look at the class photos.

As I turned around, something crinkled in my pocket, something that hadn't been there before, I'm sure. I pulled it out to get a better look. It was a piece of paper that quickly grew saturated as I held it. Confused, I glanced at my hands. My palms were dry, but the longer I held the paper the darker it grew with liquid. I lifted the parchment to my face and sniffed. It smelled like seawater. I turned around to see if somehow, someone else was responsible. Instead I found a trail of water following me into this main room from the hallway, the shape of my footsteps clearly outlined in a puddle or two. Somehow, I was dry, but I was also dripping salt water.

By then my head was starting to hurt. I looked back at the paper in my hand and tried to understand what it said before it fell apart. It looked like a class schedule.

Cat! That was the word I was fishing for. The thing I chased into this empty room was called Cat. I suppose I should try to track it down, wherever it ran off to. It was old enough to suggest someone loved and took care of it, so that same someone should be missing it.

It's odd tracing my footsteps back to the pillar where the old cat had gone missing. The squish of water beneath my shoes makes me realize it's real, and not an illusion. I'll deal with the whole saltwater thing later, I need to find this animal and get some answers.

The schedule is still in my hand, but seeing as I can't even tell the time from where I am, there isn't much reason for me to try and follow it. Besides, it's so soaked by this point that the ink is bleeding and the fibers of the paper are starting to fall apart. I figure it couldn't hurt to drop the thing on the floor, so that's where I'll leave it.

"Here kitty kitty,"

My voice surprises me. It's almost a gurgle, like my lungs were still filled with water. But that's not possible, how could I breathe if it were? And why was the idea of waterlogged lungs so familiar to me?

The old cat appears at the edge of my vision, another low miaow leaving it's jaws. I'm going to keep following it until it takes me where I need to go.

"Miaow, mia-ow," the old thing almost sobbed at me, it's frail whiskers shaking as it did. I walked over to where he had stopped in front of a door. I had come this far, it would be stupid of me to ignore it, so I grabbed the handle and yanked the door free from it's frame.

The cat disappeared through the crack the moment light entered it, leaving me to blink at the soft moonlight and gently creep out behind it. There was a loud, crashing sound that repeated itself every few seconds. It tugged at my gut and left a sore feeling in my knees. Where had I heard that before?

The bouncing shape of the cat was just a few yards ahead of me. I started to follow it, then froze in place as the area around me suddenly lit up. It was as if a spotlight had found me as it swept over the ground, illuminating everything with enough power to fake sunlight. Then it was gone, just as quickly as it washed over me it moved to the next piece of land and continued on it's way. I turned around and spotted the source. I had just stepped out of a lighthouse.

The lighthouse was grand, and massive. The iconic gray bricks towered over the sand in front of me, topped of course by the spinning, powerful light. Attached to the side of the lighthouse was a long house made up of the same material. That must have been the home of the room I'd woken up in.

The cat issue was abandoned as I studied the outside of the building, feverishly searching for some kind of clue. A name, an address, anything. But the walls were free of everything but moss, and the door was clean of everything but rust. I was just as lost as I was before.

I turned around and heard the familiar sound of shifting paper in my pocket. I immediately dug the folded sheet out of my pants and opened it, scanning the contents. Another schedule, I'd assume identical to the one I had before. I ran my eyes across the top of the page. "Psy High." What on earth did that mean? Was this some sort of school? Was I the victim of an out-of-pocket initiation? If that was the case, why couldn't I remember where I came from before waking up in that damned room?

I paused. Panic would be my enemy if I let it take over. I needed to find something familiar, I needed to get my memories back.

The crashing sound came to mind, and I strained my ears to listen. Yes, it was familiar, but I couldn't quite recall what was making it. I stepped away from the lighthouse and moved further into the sand. Step one was finding the source of the noise. Step two was yet to be determined.

The sea. Of course it was the sea, no other force of nature could replicate that sound. The waves invaded the sand, then retreated again. I watched this cycle for longer than I should have before stepping forward and dipping my toes into the water.

Instantly, there was a connection. It felt like something seized my lungs, and it continued to squeeze until I was certain it would kill me. My face surely started to change shades as I was deprived of oxygen, and no matter how hard I beat at my chest there was no relief. It wasn't until my vision started to fade and I fell back onto the beach that the pressure finally dissipated. I remember the first deep breath I took, desperately trying to fill my body with as much air as possible, before pushing it out and sucking in another fresh breath.

I remembered now. The reason I couldn't see the light that brought me here was because I was in a sack. I don't know what kind, it was too dark in the brief memory to tell, but there were distinct, thick fibers separating me from the strange light.

But most importantly, I think, was that while I was trapped in this bag I was submerged in water.

After everything that happened, I decided to go back to my room. The sea may have once comforted me, but it now sat as a grim reminder of that tugging, choking feeling. I had gained a few answers, but overall I still felt lost.

The lighthouse welcomed me, the door opening before I even touched the handle. When I stepped back inside, I was calm enough to take in more of the main room.

The bottom of the towering lighthouse made up the large circular chamber, and there was an archway leading to the long building attached to it. This room was home to all the eerie portraits and class photos. Despite the dates being set in the future, I had little trouble believing they were graduation photos.

I took a moment to catch my breath, then returned to the hallway that I had once chased the cat. It was much more inviting now that I wasn't as squeamish, and the morning sun that had started to rise was dripping in through the windows rather serenely. There were more rooms the further I went, some with names, some without. I reached one who's door was still ajar from when I'd come sneaking out of it. The name on the door said "Sailor." So I guess that's what I'm called.

My room is, unsurprisingly, empty, save for a bed in the corner and a desk against the wall. The once clean sheets were wrinkled thanks to my frantic movements when I first woke up, and although I'd been gone from the room for a good hour or two, the bed was still wet with sea water. I glanced down and noticed a small puddle collecting below me. At no point had I stopped dripping.

I made my way over to the desk and pull out the chair, studying it. Nothing out of the ordinary. I sit down. Nothing strange. I laughed at myself for being suspicious over a chair. My nerves were getting the best of me again.

I took out a piece of paper and a pen from the desk, then began to write. I was going to make a list of everything I remembered and everything I'd like to discover.

1. I came here after touching a bright light.
2. Wherever I came from, I was wrapped in burlap.
3. The only familiar thing so far has been the cat and the ocean.
4. I'm leaking seawater even though I appear to be dry.

After pausing for a moment, I bring the pen back to the paper.

5. My name is Sailor.

Now for the list of things I needed to figure out. I didn't even bother to number them, as there were too many to count;

Where was I? Who was I? Why did I wake up here? Why did the ocean seem so comforting, but at the same time fill me with dread as soon as I touched it? Who was that cat? Why was the cat familiar to me? Did I have to follow the schedule in my pocket, and how did it show up without me noticing?

I was forced to stop when the pen fell out of my hand. I tried to catch it thinking I'd somehow dropped it, but I missed. It clattered to the ground and rolled a couple inches before coming to a halt. I stooped to pick it up, then froze.

The pen had landed in the puddle of water beneath me, but it wasn't wet. Confused, I went to pick it up. Just as before I was able to hold it for maybe half a minute, then it tumbled out of my grip and bounced on the ground.

It was completely unaffected by the salt water. When I reached down to touch the I could feel the cold seep into my fingertips, so why wasn't this affected? I stood up. The chair beneath me had been soaked, just as the bed had been, and just as the floors were when I walked over them. What was so different about the pen?

There was a flutter of paper that made me jump. I looked over and noticed a small booklet on the bed. I rushed over and picked it up before it got too wet, then realized it would probably be safer on the desk than in my hands. The front of the book read "Welcome to Psy High!" with smaller text beneath it stating "Introduction." I felt a glimmer of hope that maybe this thing would have some answers.