SF Drabble #356 “Survivor”

I’m not sure of anything anymore. They keep telling me my name, but it just sounds wrong. Maybe because their mouths aren’t built to speak Standard.

There’s a wall that’s not a wall. I think they’re on the other side of it, watching. They don’t seem to be scared of me. Sometimes one will come in and show me images that hang in mid-air. Images of people, of Earth. Maybe to jog my memory? If so, it hasn’t worked.

I feel a nagging sensation of dread, as if something terrible has happened and I just don’t remember what it is.

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