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Scar staggered to his feet and stared at the guard as the door creaked open.
"Um...you look familiar. Have we met?" Scar hesitantly asked.
The creature that walked into the room was a 7-foot Ocr, with pale yellow-green skin and who smelled like damp gym socks. On his belt was a pair of deep purple nunchucks with spikes that glistened in the fluorescent-lit room. His steps shook the floor as if a category 3 earthquake plagued the room with tremors. The guard seemed to not notice Scar standing near the door.
With the tray of food in his hand, the Ocr guard stomped to the middle of the room and walked around Scar's bed to the bedside table. He gingerly lowered the tray onto the table, and quickly strutted to the door without acknowledgment. He paused in the doorway and looked back at Scar.
He grunted, grabbed the doorknob, and slowly closed the door shut with a Click.
Astonished with the guard's ignorance in his presence, Scar stumbled over to the bedside table with the tray of slush.
Treated me like a ghost, did he?
Scar lifted the tray from the edges, and without a second though, balanced the tray on one hand. He aimed and threw the tray with its contents to the wall opposite of him. It collided with a crash, and quickly landed on the floor. The slop, however, slowly dripped along the wall, providing Scar a momentary distraction to the event that just occurred a few minutes before.
When Scar's mind refocused back into reality, rage replaced the previous feelings of astonishment and recognition.
I swear I knew that Ocr from my life before isolation, Scar tried to recall, but these freaking drugs screw up my brain and I can't even remember my own name sometimes. I need to leave this place, like now.
Scar limped over to the left side of the feather bed and sat on the edge, still trying to figure out where he's seen that creature before. He glanced around the room constantly to find some kind of clue to this mystery.
His eyes shifted to a white flash that caught his eye when he eventually looked in the direction of the bedside table. Focusing his vision, he realized that the flash was actually a 5x6 index card with a message scribbled in blood red marker ink.
Scar shifted his position so he was perpendicular to the table and quickly grabbed the card. It read:
Pardon of offense, 8:00 A.M. ~ HM
Hmm...Pardon of Offense...HM...ughhh, I can't think right now. I need to go to the Land of the Dreams to refocus my thoughts. It may not be much, but it's all I could do right now...
Exhausted from the physical and mental torture of the day, as well as the shock of a mystery on his shoulders, Scar heaved himself onto the mattress. With great difficulty, he formed the link to the Land of the Dreams and fell into a deep slumber.
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YOU ARE READING
The Unforeseen Martyr
Fantasy--- Will be updated weekly on Sundays! --- Scar was born into the realm of necromancers, villainous sorcerers who have been fated to bring about the destruction of the Light World. However, Scar is not like any other necromancers-he possesses the gi...
