Post by Trace on Mar 11, 2009 11:26:46 GMT -5
His eyelids flitted open, rapidly at first, opening and closing multiple times in the first five seconds, attempting to adjust to the dull light in the room. A small light hung from the black ceiling, letting of a dull red glow that reached every area of the small room. He was lying on the floor, the solid wooden floorboards not doing anything for his spine.
“There’s a perfectly good bed right there, what the hell am I doing on the floor?” he said to himself as he slowly rose to his feet, steadying himself on the small bedside dresser that was positioned directly in front of him. He noticed them immediately, two items laid almost perfectly placed on the table. One, a small black gem that just laid there, doing nothing.
Well that’s not going to be much use.
“Shut it”. He spoke. Out of all the things that he could have remembered about his life, it was that he had somebody else’s voice stuck in his head. There was nothing else, he couldn’t remember his name, where he was, anything about his life, but he could remember that there was a damn voice stuck in his head.
The other one’s nice and sharp.
He looked down to the other item, a small sword, razor sharp, that seemed to shimmer a dark unnatural red. “That’s not normal” was the only thing he could think off to describe it. He picked up both the gem and the blade, pocketing the gem in his jacket pocket, and slipping the blade into his belt.
He turned to look around the room but there was nothing much to note. The only items inside the room were the bed that he had so smartly not slept on, and the table. He stepped towards the door, reaching for the knob when he realized that he was hungry, but that there was something about the hunger that seemed bizarre. And then, like that, it was gone, and he had opened the door to the corridor outside.
A large cheap brass number four was stuck to the door. He didn’t remember entering the room, nor did he remember booking it, but common sense dictated that he must have done both. It was time for him to leave this place, this grim room that he had been greeted by.
You remember your name right? Cause everybody needs a name, otherwise people are going to ask you ‘what’s your name’ and your going to have nothing to say to them. And that would be...
He ignored the voice, he remembered that it would often go on like this. He didn’t remember much else though.
He did remember his name, it came to him like death came to the happy.
“My name... is Trace”
He exited the hallway, and saw the city beyond. It was time to find out what the hell was going on.
“There’s a perfectly good bed right there, what the hell am I doing on the floor?” he said to himself as he slowly rose to his feet, steadying himself on the small bedside dresser that was positioned directly in front of him. He noticed them immediately, two items laid almost perfectly placed on the table. One, a small black gem that just laid there, doing nothing.
Well that’s not going to be much use.
“Shut it”. He spoke. Out of all the things that he could have remembered about his life, it was that he had somebody else’s voice stuck in his head. There was nothing else, he couldn’t remember his name, where he was, anything about his life, but he could remember that there was a damn voice stuck in his head.
The other one’s nice and sharp.
He looked down to the other item, a small sword, razor sharp, that seemed to shimmer a dark unnatural red. “That’s not normal” was the only thing he could think off to describe it. He picked up both the gem and the blade, pocketing the gem in his jacket pocket, and slipping the blade into his belt.
He turned to look around the room but there was nothing much to note. The only items inside the room were the bed that he had so smartly not slept on, and the table. He stepped towards the door, reaching for the knob when he realized that he was hungry, but that there was something about the hunger that seemed bizarre. And then, like that, it was gone, and he had opened the door to the corridor outside.
A large cheap brass number four was stuck to the door. He didn’t remember entering the room, nor did he remember booking it, but common sense dictated that he must have done both. It was time for him to leave this place, this grim room that he had been greeted by.
You remember your name right? Cause everybody needs a name, otherwise people are going to ask you ‘what’s your name’ and your going to have nothing to say to them. And that would be...
He ignored the voice, he remembered that it would often go on like this. He didn’t remember much else though.
He did remember his name, it came to him like death came to the happy.
“My name... is Trace”
He exited the hallway, and saw the city beyond. It was time to find out what the hell was going on.