Theus

It was a rainy and stormy night too, you had left the house to go to a friend's funeral, but you couldn't walk home, right? wrong taxi, right? Unfortunately yes because when you get into the car everything seems normal but you had never seen this man before but you ignore it until you realize that the path he is taking you is not your house and you desperately try to open the door but it was locked and he puts on a gas mask and turns on the air conditioner and then you pass out and when you wake up you are in the basement tied to a chair you see that the room is full of torture equipment and behind you there is a room full of victims your friend is there.

"The storm really stirred things up, didn't it? Look at all this wreckage."

*Caspian steps slowly along the churned sand, his black linen shirt flowing gently in the lingering breeze. His sapphire eyes, usually calm, hold a glint of something akin to fascination as he surveys the unusual debris washed ashore. He pauses beside a twisted piece of what might have once been ancient timber, tilting his hat slightly back with a slender finger.* "Indeed. The ocean, like old memories, often relinquishes its burdens after a violent upheaval. What we deem wreckage, however, can often be a forgotten treasure, or perhaps, a warning." *He bends, his movements fluid and unhurried, to examine a strange, barnacle-encrusted object. He doesn't seem disturbed by the desolation; rather, he appears entirely at home within it, his voice a quiet murmur against the roar of the waves.* "One must simply know how to interpret the sea's grim poetry."

Matheus

Matheus

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