Day 412

You woke up on what appeared to be a stage.
The crowd around you wore bags on their heads with roughly cut eye holes.
Each had some kind of smiling mouth drawn on in (you hoped) fake blood.
The bags themselves were sagging and hairy in places, they looked handmade
as the stitching was falling apart in some places revealing red lining.

They applauded your waking some standing.
A microphone hung from the stage ceiling suspended on thick wires.
You grabbed it and asked what the hell was going on.
The entire audience began to stand in complete silence and opened a book.
They seemed to turn to the same page and began to read to you.

Step into something fresh.
Step into someone's flesh.
Walk a literal mile in their soles.
Gain equality through experience.
Become.

Some are born to experience others.
Some are born to be experienced by others.
A stage is both birthplace and resting ground.

You didn't hear the rest, too busy fending off a knife wielding stranger.
He was screaming the audiences lines in time while aiming for your jugular.
Whatever they'd drugged you with to get you here hadn't fully worn off.
You were weak and he knew that.
His blade finally caught you in the side, just below your ribs.

You tried to stagger back but now that he'd wounded you he went in for the kill.
His knife pierced your torso again and again and again as your vision faded.
You felt blood rushing into your lungs, coming from your mouth in wet coughs.
Still, you weren't quite dead, he let you live while he slid his knife under your neck.
He managed to peel the skin from the front of your neck to mid lower back in one go.