Beginning Again (narrative)
The naked man awoke with a start. Already the nightmare was fading; something about a spider. Or a boy. Or a spider-boy? Dreams were funny things that way, and usually irrelevant, though he was old enough (so very old) that he knew it wasn't always the case. This one seemed a bit too far-fetched to put much stock in and he promptly dismissed it.
He sat up, running a hand through his hair and looked around. Nothing here looked familiar. Where was he? Come to think of it, who was he? He stood up and headed toward the bathroom, a slightly puzzled frown on his face. He lifted the seat and took a good long piss, as if he'd been holding it for days. Before leaving the bathroom (without bothering to wash his hands, as from the smell of things he would be taking a hot shower very shortly) he paused to look in the mirror.
That was new.
He wasn't sure how he knew that, but the face in the mirror was most certainly not the same as the one he'd last seen. He moved his mouth and nose this way and that, taking it in. Not a bad face, really. Better than the one he'd had in Delain.
"..."
Where was Delain? What did that mean? Never mind, he told himself. It would come back to him. He wasn't sure how he knew that, but he did. Things always came back to him. Like his name just had, as if a neon flashing sign had been planted squarely in his mind.
Randall Flagg.
A slow smile crawling across his lips, he finally turned his back on the mirror and scratching his balls, headed into the main room, past the bedroom and toward a set of sliding glass doors that led out to a balcony. The blinds were pulled back and letting the sunshine stream in. He stood before the naked glass, completely disregarding his own nakedness. A picturesque view of the ocean greeted him, waves gently rolling against the sandy beach. Pretty, he mused. But there was more.
There were secrets here. Oh, yes, definitely secrets. They were almost palpable to the Dark Man, and the smile grew wider. Crueler. It was time to head out and find out where exactly he was and what he could do here. Turning, he spotted a closet, the door wide open and a set of clothes hanging there. Jeans. A black t-shirt and a jean jacket. Old, worn cowboy boots on the floor below them with a pair of socks resting on top. No underwear, unless there was some in one of the dresser drawers, but that didn't matter. He couldn't stand the feel of underwear anyway. As he headed back toward the bathroom to shower, he spotted an artfully placed basket on the dresser. A note lay on top of it.
"Welcome to Paradise Island, Friend!"
At least now he knew where he was. An island, boasting itself as Paradise no less. How interesting. Picking up the note, he inspected the rest of the contents. A map, useful. A phone, a little less useful. And something wrapped in a black cloth. Slowly folding the cloth back, the grin grew even wider and colder. It was a pink glass ball. "We meet again, old friend."
Oh yes, things were definitely coming back to him. It would take a bit before he got all the memories back, but they would come. Still smiling, he covered the orb back up and went to take a shower. Time to see what this island had to offer.