ALL THAT WAS LEFT BEHIND
Imagine a box. Any box you want. It could be a vintage chestnut chest imported from France, or a simple moldy cardboard box. Either way, it serves the same purpose, being shoved away in the corners of your dusty attic, with a variety of miscellaneous forgotten treasures. You never realise it's up there, abandoned in the thick coating of dust and neglect, until one day, it's all gone. It's always gone just when you discover that its contents may have been key to uncovering the troubled past of that box. But how much would it matter? How far would you go to retrieve the lost broken reveries?
My name is Sea. It's a strange name, I know, especially since I can't recall ever being near a sea, but my folks have always been rather strange people. At least, from what I can remember. I've never really known them, but my whole life has been formed around their existence. The things I have learned from them could be looked at as troubled lessons of the world I lived in, which isn't necessarily a bad thing. However, accepting that fact could only be the beginning. This is all that I had gained from my life, and everything my parents gave me. This is all that they had left behind.