It was a cold night, the air stung like a jilted lovers barbs from across the room... He stared into the ominous night sky looking for a star to find his bearings… But it was no use; he would have to rely on his guts and steely resolve to get him through this night... if he could only remember her name.
Was she real... or just a composite of the women from his past? What was in the case next to him and why did he smell like cheap booze again... it was going to be a long night he thought to himself... it smelled like vanilla tonight.
As he took inventory he realized he had dried blood on his shirt… odd he thought. He unbuttoned his shirt to reveal a stitched up somewhat healed over stab wound in the area above his heart... he noted how it oozed and smelled of mixture of roses and despair. I must have been somewhere I didn’t belong he muttered to himself...how did I come to be here and who attended to my wounds? There seemed to be a strange void in time he couldn’t reconcile.
The case next to him had the look of something time forgot, from the looks of it had been repaired numerous times... the hinges and locks didn’t appear original… it was covered in a tattered and clawed at leather and yet seemed well built… it was about the size of a breadbox and had a weight to that seemed unusual for such a small item. It appeared to had been recently wielded shut… as he held it to his ear he could make out a faith sound coming from the box… it was a steady but weak thump…
