Why Is Kevin Here...

Why is Kevin Here, and Where Was He Originally Supposed to Be? 

     He woke up in a lake. A quiet, placid, scenic lake. The question is, why is he in the lake? Where was he, or, most importantly, who was he? For he might’ve taken a tumble; a slight drop to the crown, but as he held up his hands and examined his palms the skin he wore seemed foreign beyond words. All he could do is waddle his way out of this odd lake, and onto the dirt path soaked head to toe. A sharp pain erupted from his head, and as so he lifted a single finger and gingerly poked his forehead to his hairline and discovered an open wound, bleeding heavily, and dying his index a crimson red. 

     He wandered for a while, copses of trees surrounding in bunches like clouds on a rainy day. The dirt road covered in tiny rocks and an infinite amount of tiny twigs and dead leaves. The wind softly swept past his disoriented figure as he trudged on ward in a bemused fashion. Every step a stick came to it’s inevitable demise as a snap commenced from the bottom of his beaten up, black, oxford shoes. His trousers ripped and shredded at the bottom, and his blazer missing an entire arm. 

     He stumbled around with fancy feet traversing through an endless stream of flowers and trees, until the deafening sounds of the wind were beaten by the honking of Fords, and the loud chatter and clickety-clack of society. It seemed that he still is knowledgeable in the area of urban life, but have completely lost his own self.

      He earned stares from dressed up women, finely-clothed men, all silhouettes walking to and fro. Their eyes burned into his discombobulated jet-black hair and bewildered expression. Some had stopped to stare, others pretended not to notice, but he limped and shoulder bumped civilians as he passed by, the world speeding up as he frantically searched for some sort of revelation. He passed alleyways, tall buildings, cavernous and gorgeous cathedrals--but no sign of aid. 

     He stopped, breathing heavily, and dropped to the cold pavement, in between two small clothing shops. He set his back up against the maroon-coloured brick wall, his legs stretched out to the end of the other side and his arms neatly folded into his lap.