The Dream
Sitting by the river, he saw a blond boy on the other bank. The boy waved and quickly ran away, disappearing over the horizon. Suddenly he was gripped by the fear that if he didn’t catch that boy soon something terrible would happen. He tried to stand up but found that his body wouldn’t work for him. To make matters worse he wasn’t able to move his head or eyes around. All he could do was sit and passively look at the spot where the boy had been standing only moments before.
Well, now that he knew he was completely helpless, what was he supposed to do? He tried to call for help, but no sound came out. He wanted to cry, but no tears would come forth either.
Suddenly the scenery changed. Or, rather, disappeared. Somehow this comforted him though. With no visual point of reference the fact that he couldn’t move became irrelevant. Where would he possibly move to?
He couldn’t tell how long he’d existed in this black space. He tried to recall something - anything - of his past, but was met with nothing. He couldn’t remember his face or voice, or what anyone he might have known looked like. He felt that the blond boy he had seen earlier was familiar somehow, but he had no idea how they might have known each other.
What had he been called? He couldn’t remember, but somehow “Fullmetal” sounded familiar, as though someone might have called him that once.
There was a face he desperately wanted to remember but couldn’t.