A spinoff novel with no direct idea of where it's going
Dark to light, light to dark, dark to light, light to dark.
The pattern kept repeating itself, sunlight streamed through the window only to be blocked moments later by something but then clearing to show the stream of light again. Sometimes it sped up, sometimes it slowed down. Creaks rang through the hollow, round,room made of stone, tall and empty. A single bed laid in the middle, bolted to the floor. On top of the faded floral bed cover sat a worn and battered suitcase closed shut.
A breeze suddenly made it's way through the window placed up high on the tall wall, causing the duvet to rustle slightly, dust flew off the top of the suitcase revealing a crest of sorts. A crow sat on top of a skull, quill pen in beak, feathers floating all around it, and under neath, faded from years of misuse, was a name that could no longer be read.
The wind blew again causing something to fall off the bed and roll across the floor slowly, a white trail left in it's wake as the fell against the wall and slipping under the old, wooden door that stood rotting in it's frame and bouncing down the stairs one step at a time. Coming to rest in the grass just outside, blown gently back by another gust of wind but stopped by the lip of the open doorway and rolling back into the grass again.