Misty, curling, slivery shroud,

Obsurcing me from view, hiding behind this gosmere screen I watch the world go by me

I watch, waiting for a sign,

I wait for a clue, for that first mark on the map

To bring me back

Back to who I was before the fire

Back to who I was before I was Darren Beckham

Before I was Oliver Peake

I need answers I need them like I need air

I gaze back through the smoke a hazy, figure beckoning me forwards

I step, the smoke curling as I do something is different

I can feel it now, the figure reaches towards me and I see a vaugest outline of a hand.

I reach out in turn, my smoke wrapped fingers brushing the other

"Oliver," says the figure as the smoke begins to thin strange and stranger still how this person knows my name.

"Who are you?" I call back the smoke even thinner now, my heart beating faster, I needed this-I needed that veil to find my answers.

"You're more interested in who you are Mr. Peake," the person-a woman-says, the wispy smoke so cleared I can make out ebony hair. "You want your answers do you not?"

I swallow hard as I see one milky white hand strenched out to grasp mine, "I do,"

"Then come with me," and I grab her hand, the smoke dissapating entirely, and everything is clear now.

This woman is the first marker on the map to who I was. I just had to take the first step and watch the smoke clear.

My answers where in my reach.