he woke up to see a human like figure to be sitting in front of him.
it's head and back was leaning against a very old armoire, with his forearms resting on its knees. it seemed to be someone who tried to recreate a person, with nothing more gears then there are in a grandfather's clock. it appeared off, because the only gear that moved was only moving at most 3 other gears, and the it stopped there. he could tell because the head was make of some sort for flexible see-through material. sticking out of the head was what you could call an eye, a camera that popped out of the head a little to much, which was closer to the top right of the head. the lens looked as though it could readjust itself. it was wearing a posh topper (one of his favorite headwear) and waistcoat similar to what he bought just last week. it reminded of him when he was a detective back in the 1840's. 13 years (almost 14) sense those days, and yet he could remember them as though it where yesterday. he could just go on and on with nostalgia, but the figure in front of him was much more interesting.
the object's arms was mostly made of a combination of the transparent material and a copper metal that surrounded the outside. inside, or at least what he could see,seemed similar to the head, except for a couple objects that stood out, like in the left had a very sharp metal piece that ran along the inside of the arm, as far up as he could see.the right had a very thick wire that ran in the inside of the arm, like a pulley system. there was a lot of wire.
while briefly looking at the arms, he saw a locket around his left index finger. it was still swaying left to right. it had reminded him of a case he had solved when he was a detective. the murderer wanted to make the murder look like a suicide. he would have succeeded too, if it weren't for the locket still swaying left and right very violently even though the victim had consumed a very relaxing poison, as if someone had put the locket in the victims hand in a rush. Thomas Griffiths Wainewright would had escaped if it where't for a raven who had diverted my attention just enough to see him try to blend into the crowd. he killed his sister in law, as well as possibly his uncle, mother in law and friend, and got away with inconclusive evidence. Thomas was a free man, with all the insurance he bought cashed in, and no one but me seemed to care.
as the locket swayed, it reveled 2 small pictures of people inside the locket. as he tried to concentrate on the locket, he realized he couldn't move his eyes. in a panic, he kept trying to move his own eyes. with that, the object's gears seemed to pop back to life, and move vigorously in it's head.the neck down however, still seemed off.instead of using his eyes, he tried using his head to look toward the locket, which had worked. only for a sudden wave of dread an surprise went through him. when his gaze went to the locket, he had found an other object.
in front of him was a mirror.
in his shock, he tried to get up. the sudden amount of movement put his gaze on the rest of the objec- his body. his chest was made of the same copper material as before, and his legs where made of a very darkened metal. he eventually succeeding in standing up. the first thing he thought of doing was looking at the locket. He lifted the locket in front of him. the locket was a shining gold, with a chain that mimicked it. the locket was already open. inside was a beautiful young girl with red hair and a contagious smile that he wanted so badly to mimic, but lacked the face to do so. facing the girl was a woman with a long white dress and hair that tried to copy the girl's, but was just not the same. suddenly a memory played itself in his head.
"Please tell me at the very least you brushed your hair" Amissa stressed. Amissa was yelling louder then what was needed for Creta to hear her from the back of the car, but for good reason. today was her first day of the 9th grade, and she woke up only half and hour ago. today Amissa was wearing her ocean blue dress, and a very red lipstick, that only put more emphasis on her red hair. she didn't need to wear anything formal, all we where doing were dropping Creta off, but that was Amissa. she didn't wear formal clothing to impress or to be polite, but instead to just show what she was like. That was something many would call a flaw, but I called it the reason i married her. It was a little to obvious however that she tried to put that trait into her daughter, but with no prevail. "Don't answer. Its obvious what the answer is." by the time she finished talking, she pulled out a brush from her purse. Creta took it unwillingly. Creta never cared what she looked like. She looked through her own eyes, and she didn't care what other eyes where doing. that was something she liked to believe she lived by, but in actuality she would sometimes care what other eyes where doing. It gave some sense of attention outside of the woman who was currently yelling at her.
Amissa turned her attention toward the man who was driving. "Ferrum, what am I supposed to do." Amissa said. Ferrum could sense a bit of stress in her voice. He parked a bit farther from the school then he wanted to. Creta felt comfortable with her parents in not in view of anyone else. Ferrum turned his attention towards Creta. No matter how hard he tried, he could not see a single problem with how Creta looked. With her red hair with a almost impossible shine, to her pure white shirt she had tucked into her long skirt. "I think she looks fine" ferrum said. Amissa still wasn't satisfied.
Ferrum turned his attention toward something else that caught his eye. A man in a parked car across the street. something wasn't right about him. for one, he was parked in front of a building that lost its business a long time ago. it looked like it was an inn, but nothing could prove that but a gut feeling. This person had no reason for being there. but there was something only years of being in bad situations could reveal itself. there was something in his eye. A stair of mass anger and aggression that can be put in one look. usually he would be at gunpoint, with his target getting the lack of any other emotion in one stair.
But it happened to late. The angry man's car started and launched itself forward his. In a panic, he stopped the petal with as many muscles of his body he could move in the millisecond he had.
It wasn't enough.
The other car crashed itself into there's. He watched as Amissa hit her head on the window, making it multiple pieces of glass. He could not see what was happening to Creta, which gave him a unimaginable sense of fear yet relief. the last thing he could see was his grandfather's gear. it was originally in his left pocket. his father said it gave him good luck. the object itself was made of a white stone, which made it look primitive. His father was never really around, and the last he saw of him he told me those words. but he kept it anyway.
He stashed the locket into his pocket. He needed to find them. After being in closest thing to a clear mind that he could comprehend, he found that he was in an abandoned building. The walls looked damp and wet due to the snow and looked as though it could crash in an instant. The walls were lined with windows, but little light was getting through the sloppy barriers. The floor was a mess of leftover planks of wood, most likely put there to be used on the building later, but never get the chance. There were also furnishings, scattered around, not quite knowing were to be. The mirror was leaning against a plank that was pointing upward. After looking behind the armoire that he was originally leaning on, he found an exit. It was a flight of stairs, going down, which meant this was the top floor.
wonderful.
As he dashed down the stairs he expected them to give in to his weight, and slightly hoping so to get the the lower floor faster, but it held. He must not be as heavy as he expected. To his luck, the building he was in was only 2 stories. Briefly looking around before he left he saw he was in the skeleton of what was going to be an inn, with furnishings that kind of knew where to be, waiting to be admired only for that day to never come. one doors were as covered as the windows upstairs, but the left door was leaning open. Upon closer speculation it looked like it was torn through from the inside, with only half as many screws desperately holding on to the door, slowly giving in. his focus switched with realizing the gravity of the situation.
They could be dead. It's completely possible that the crashed had killed them both.And if not the crash, then the driver surely would have, given he wanted to kill someone. But, somehow, he was still here, maybe not breathing, no heartbeat, but still here. If he can survive, they can. They had to.
He was still in the neighborhood the crash was.
