Prisoner 1083 had been awake for quite some time before the warden's voice crackled overhead.
"For how long though?" he muttered to himself as he sat up in his bed. Time had away from you when you had no idea of when it was, where you were and more importantly who you were. In the time he'd been awake he had spent who knows how long wracking his brain searching for an answer. Nothing. Every time he slipped into his own mind he saw nothing. Had he been drugged? Had someone bashed him in the head? Did he do something stupid in his sleep? That would be quite silly, but stranger things had happened.
"If only I could remember what those stranger things were."
1083 interlocked his fingers and pushed his arms skyward. His knuckles popped. He twisted his head, once to the left and once to the right, the crackling bones echoing off the walls of his cell. He leaned over the side of his bed and fished for the wooden box. His fingers brushed something hard. He pulled the box from under the bed and set it in his lap. Smooth. Polished. Wooden from what he could tell. Someone spent a lot of time on a wooden box for it to wind up in a jail cell.
1083 had played enough video games to know that you always check treasure chests before moving forward. That was one thing he remembered. Maybe. The inmate snapped the box open and took a look inside.
"For how long though?" he muttered to himself as he sat up in his bed. Time had away from you when you had no idea of when it was, where you were and more importantly who you were. In the time he'd been awake he had spent who knows how long wracking his brain searching for an answer. Nothing. Every time he slipped into his own mind he saw nothing. Had he been drugged? Had someone bashed him in the head? Did he do something stupid in his sleep? That would be quite silly, but stranger things had happened.
"If only I could remember what those stranger things were."
1083 interlocked his fingers and pushed his arms skyward. His knuckles popped. He twisted his head, once to the left and once to the right, the crackling bones echoing off the walls of his cell. He leaned over the side of his bed and fished for the wooden box. His fingers brushed something hard. He pulled the box from under the bed and set it in his lap. Smooth. Polished. Wooden from what he could tell. Someone spent a lot of time on a wooden box for it to wind up in a jail cell.
1083 had played enough video games to know that you always check treasure chests before moving forward. That was one thing he remembered. Maybe. The inmate snapped the box open and took a look inside.