Disclaimer: I do not own the Legend of Zelda

I open my eyes and am greeted by darkness. True, deep, pitch black, I notice as I turn my head from right to left. My room always has some amount of light streaming in the window -the stupid grounds lights outside can be blamed for that- so this is a bit strange. And, as I force my fuzzy-feeling brain (that's a little freaky; how can a brain feel fuzzy?) to bring up its most recent memories, I realize it wouldn't make sense for me to be in my room. The last I can recall, I went for a walk, in the forest at the north end of town, and I'm pretty sure no one from my house would look for me there. It doesn't really have a name, but if it did, it'd be the Forbidden Woods. Honestly, the city's so uptight about it for some reason, and no one is 'allowed' in. But since when does that ever stop kids? Besides, they didn't even put up any kind of fence.

It occurs to me that a better idea than reflecting on the city's strange rules might be figuring out where exactly I am. So, thinking on this, I remember that I'd heard something as I walked, a snapping sound, and suddenly every story I'd ever heard of lone people being attacked by wild animals, or worse, in forests came rushing back to me. I know I'd started running in panic, and then I'd...tripped? I think so... And since that's my last memory before waking up here, wherever here is, I suppose it's logical to conclude that I must have knocked myself out (and been out a long time, since that was in the middle of the afternoon, and if the lack of light is any indication, it's now nighttime). Additionally, since I can tell just by lying here that I'm definitely not outside, and this is definitely not dirt I'm lying on, but a bed, it must also be logical to conclude that someone found me.

I wonder who that someone could be as I move to sit up, but as I flex my right wrist a sharp pain goes shooting up my arm and I can't help a gasp, instinctively cradling the hurt arm with my other one. My fingers brush against some sort of material that is wrapped around it. Din, but that was painful! And it's still pitch black in here, so I can't even see what's wrong!

Actually, now that I'm really paying attention, my whole body is feeling a bit achy, like...like I don't know what. I've never really been injured before. My head throbs a bit, but other than that and my arm there's no real pain, so using the one that doesn't feel like it's on fire, I feel around for the edge of the bed I'm on. It's further away then I'd thought it would be. This bed must be pretty big. And then there's something else just past the edge, a thick fabric that seems to be hanging down from above...a canopy? That's like mine. And that has to be why it's so dark in here. Pulling the curtain aside proves my theory, as the room beyond is lit. Lit by candles, so the light isn't too strong, and I wonder briefly if the power is out, but it's just as well because even the faint light is making me squint painfully.

From what I can see, it's a nice room. Dark red everywhere, on the walls, in the carpet, and even the bed seems to be made in red, though the drapes hanging from the canopy look black. I can see a couple pieces of furniture, a nightstand next to the bed, on my right, a desk with a hard wooden chair sitting against the wall just past the foot of the bed, and past that, a dresser. Everything appears to be made of a beautiful dark wood. It's all more what I prefer than what I actually got. My room is pink. Pink, pink, pink. I never was very fond of it, but Mom liked it, so...

The thought of my mother brings back another memory, but I push it aside before the pain of it can bring tears to my eyes. There's no time for that. I just have to find whoever lives here and ask them to take me home.

After assuring myself that my legs work fine, I slide to the ground. Once again cradling my arm, which I can now see is wrapped tightly at the wrist in something gauze-like, I step past the end of the bed (it really is huge, now that I can see it fully) and my attention is caught by a mirror hanging over the dresser. Almost automatically, I walk over to peer into it. Well, I look the same. I don't know why I expected any different. I lean forward a little to study my reflection. There're bags under my green eyes, but that's not very surprising. But having pale skin sure makes them stand out in an awfl way. Looking at my hair, which is close to reaching my back and in need of a good brushing, I wonder once again why I made the insane decision to dye it purple. It really doesn't look that good, and I'm starting to miss the black. I stick my tongue out at myself, wishing for the millionth time that I was prettier, though even I wouldn't go so far as to say I'm ugly. Just...very plain. I guess that's why I dyed my hair in the first place, to make myself stand out more. And maybe it was a kind of rebellion, too.

Shaking my head to get rid of these pointless thoughts, I turn away from the mirror to look at the rest of the room, and find that it really is exactly like mine. In shape, anyway. Rectangular, a window on either side of the bed, both draped in black. The bed itself is against the far wall if you're standing at the door, just like mine. The only difference is that this room has a fireplace.

I've always wanted one of those. And there are two big, fluffy chairs in front of it, the kind you curl up and read in. I can't help going to sit in one, they look so comfy. Hanging above the fireplace is a big landscape painting, the kind you see in museums. Or rich people's houses. There're one or two such paintings in my own house.

Make that my father's house. It's never really felt like mine, anyway.

The painting is kind of familiar, actually...

Before I can figure out where I've seen it, I hear a sort of rattle, like someone turning a doorknob. And sure enough, next comes the creak of a door opening. I start to stand, but then pause; for some reason I get this feeling, like I shouldn't be seen. Which is crazy, I think. But still, I sink back in the chair and peek around it, hoping to see who it is before they see me.

Right, so here is the first chapter of a story I do hope to finish, but, given that I'm not the hardest worker in the world, who knows how that will go.

I appreciate any help that can be given, not just in spelling and grammar, but if some of what I write comes across as awkward, hard to read, whatever, it'd be nice to hear anything you may suggest to make it better. I guess you should also know, my writing style, so far as I've discovered, is just plain slow and it takes a while to get anywhere. That suits me fine, but I thought I should warn anyone who happens to take a look before we get much further.

If anyone decided to give this little story a try, I thank you kindly. :)