The first thing your eyes focus on is a pale white growth mere inches from your face. You spend a moment trying to identify it. It's clearly a plant, with a rather typical flowering head. Its stem looks rather fragile, not woody at all, indicating that its probably an herbaceous plant. More than that, its thin, flimsy stem indicates that it probably dies off after it has flowered, marking it as a perennial plant. That being said, the entire plant is ghostly white. A lack of green colouration means that it has no chlorophyll, meaning it can't generate its own-
Your memory comes flooding back, and you realize you are sprawled awkwardly on a field, your left arm crushed under your own torso and your right knee throbbing with pain. You were on a train, to Dover, with...your wife, Agnes.
You are at the base of a small embankment on a grassy field, at the top of which lay the train tracks, and the wreckage of the train. You try to work out what you see around you, but both your body and mind are throbbing with pain. Whichever direction you turn, you are surrounded by torn metal, dead bodies, and those mysterious white flowers, growing everywhere.
Where is Agnes?
