Alone
After a long writer's block here, I decided to write down something. In this story's case, it is based on a certain song I found in my 'meditative cycle' and it helped create Jericho.
After what seem like a era of silence and ebbing pain, Jericho opened his eyes to a colorless sky and thanked whatever deity on this world that there wasn't any sunlight burn his already hurting eyes. When he realized he wasn't using his lungs, he inhaled hard and coughed out dirt and bloody saliva. Rolling on his hands and knees, the poor man vomited out the blood that have been plugging up his throat and let out crying whines, for reasons he didn't know of, before wiping it away. In fact, when he thought about it, he didn't know why he was on the ground in the first place. Looking at his somewhat thick paws, ending in black unsheathed claws in his stress, slowly got up.
The man looked at his dirtied red-orange fur and black elbow tufts as if seeing them for the first time. Blinking, Jericho slowly examined himself. Hmm...about 6'1", nicely built, fur seemed abit lacking of sunlight...black REBEL shirt, dark jean pants, two black leather belts, no footwear due to digitigraded feet and...long fluffy tail. He would have thought himself to be a fox with the tail, but the tail didn't quite look completed vixen. It was long and moderate until it came to large black tuft at the end. Then again, he had more feline qualities. Was that even possible for a fox and cat to interbreed?
As he thought about this with a detail-oriented mind, Jericho didn't know why he thought like that. Maybe he is just smart and liked detail. Reaching his paws slowly, he felt the somewhat rough pads on a long, strong muzzle. Again, reminded him of a fox at first but the muzzle was too big for one. The whole act of moving had numbed pain to it but he toughed it out. He had to find out more! Coming to the top of his head, his paw-like hands came to a thick mane. It felt like he was formerly silky but it was damaged from the amount of time he spent unconscious. Exhaling with a stabbing pain to his lungs, he actually looked around.
A blackened hill with few remnants of greenery on one side. Looking under his feet, he saw long trail stopped under him and ran for a good football field. He shuddered for the reason why it was that long. Slowly tracing his eye up, he looked upon a wasteland; trees were broken and angled in terrible positions, no grass blessed the glassed fields, little signs of modern roads, and in the distance was little remains of a city with a thick black arm of smoke reaching to penetrated the sealed heavens. This dark view reached as far as he could on all sights. It seemed the world have died. Somewhere in his aching heart pinged with something very comfortable that he didn't even want to know.
He needed to find someone or something is this place to tell him what happened. Evidence of what tore the life from his world. He didn't know because he could remember very little of higher memory besides his own name, but even that gave him a dread didn't deserve a mention. For now...he was utterly alone.