Exercise # 3
The last thing I can remember is throwing punches and profanity around at strangers. The copious amounts of confusion ran through y head as I tried to make sense of my surroundings and why I was here. I resided on a linen bed, elevated a few feet from the ground, which upon closer inspection was cold, damp, stone. I glanced to the right of me to become aware of a barred window, displaying pale light: which I assumed belonged to the moon.
The glaze of illumination merely covered a mis-measured square on the floor adjacent to the window with dark strokes of shadow through it. I now had made sense of this mysterious place: it appeared to be a jail cell.
"Why am I in jail? What have I done?" I pondered, shivering. I heard a noise suddenly, and a stench flared my nostrils - it smelled of death - of decay. Looking over to the origin of the sound and presumably the odor, a man walked out of the shadows and stared at me. He wore his leather armor sparingly, apparently so as to show off his impressive physique. He also bore a stare that chilled me to the bone. It was as if I were a rabbit being sized up by a wolf. Those eyes drove me to dread.
As I began to shudder at the thought of being punished or executed by this gargantuan monster of a man, he spoke, his voice raspy, metallic, and deep.
"You can go sleep at home tonight if you can get up and walk away."