𝐂𝐔𝐋𝐓𝐈𝐒𝐓

◆𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐈𝐍◆

❝𝐖𝐄𝐋𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐄 𝐓𝐎 𝐒𝐘𝐂𝐀𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐄 𝐕𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐘❞

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     ◆𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐎𝐏𝐄𝐍 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐄𝐘𝐄𝐒, 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐄 𝐓𝐎 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐐𝐔𝐈𝐂𝐊 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐂𝐋𝐔𝐒𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐈𝐍 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐁𝐄𝐃𝐑𝐎𝐎𝐌. You were not met with the usual sight of your ceiling, the comforting warmth of your sheets. You were on a train. One of a strange air, one that you did not remember getting on. And yet, you do not panic, though feel a sense of curiosity. Where were you? How did you get here? You get up and walk forward, but stumble on something that laid on the floor. Looking down, you saw that it was a brown messenger bag. You bend and pick it up to examine it.

     The straps were worn and frayed, yet held strong. The material was high quality. It was obvious it was loved and well used. You flipped it to the other side. On the bottom left corner, there was a name written in marker. It was your name. That was your messenger bag. Did you have this bag before? You cannot remember.

YOU OBTAINED THE ITEM [MESSENGER BAG].

     You shifted your attention to the train itself. The floors were dark green, along with the walls. The handle bars hanging from the ceiling were swaying gently with the jostling of the moving train. The seat you were just sitting on was red. The door across from you was plain and a stark contrast to the dark and colorful scenery around you. Maybe the outside will give you a hint of where you are. You looked out the windows.

Nothing.

     The inky blackness of the night gave you no hint, no answer, of where you are. You frowned and approached the bland door. Maybe you can find the conductor, and ask them yourself. The door opened with a creek as you stepped into the next car. It was completely the same as the one you were just in. The wooden floor tapped underneath you as you walked down the empty aisle.

"And where are you off to, young one?"

     You jump and quickly turn. It appeared the aisle wasn't so empty. He was tall, even when sitting. You could not see his face, only the rough layout of his body, as he sat in the darkest corner of the train. "Oh.. I'm trying to find the conductor, do you know where he is?" "The train drives itself, young one, there is no conductor." "Then, may I ask you where we are- or where we are headed?" "I've been here for so long.. I'm not sure if it's even possible to get off. I cannot remember if there was even a destination in the first place, I'm sorry.." "No, it's alright. May I sit with you?" From the shadows you can see him nod. You sat down.

     There was silence, but you did not mind. It was comfortable. You were not sure how long you sat there. It could be minutes, it could've been hours. You quickly realized how hard it was to tell time here. Though, eventually, a bell chimed. The doors slowly opened. It was now time for you to get off. You stood and slung your bag over your shoulder. "Goodbye." "Farewell, young one. Thank you for sitting with me." You stepped off the train.

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     As expected, you were now in a train station. On the wall there was a banner that read "WELCOME TO SYCAMORE VALLEY" in bold black letters. Sycamore Valley didn't ring a bell. Maybe you could find a map and see exactly where you were- there could be a chance that you would recognize some neighboring towns. The night air felt chilly on your skin, some crickets chirped in the distance.

     It must've rained recently, as there was puddles on the concrete. You tried to avoid them as best you could, wet shoes and socks were never pleasant. You walked into the main building, which was quite small. There was only one other person present, which was a woman. She looked around forty, her dark brown curly hair rested on her shoulders. Her acrylic nails clicked against the keyboard she was typing on. You walked up to her. "Hello?" "I'll be with you in one minute, dear." 

"..."

      What was so important that she can't divert her attention for a few seconds? You were the only customer in here! A few more awkward moments of silence. She finally looked up at you. "Thank you for your patience. What can I do for you, dear?" "Oh um- well you see I don't really know where I am. Could you maybe help me figure that out? Or at least point me in the direction to a motel or something?" "Hmmm. We're not really close to any other towns. Sycamore Valley is really in the middle of no where. And the train doesn't come and make it's stop for a few hours... I'll point you towards the closest motel, 'kay? Here, I'll write the directions down for you, dear." She pulled out a pen and paper and started jotting down directions.

YOU OBTAINED THE ITEM [DIRECTIONS TO MOTEL].

     You wondered how you got here, and why you were so tired. You woke up not that long ago, so how come you had to fight the urge to yawn every other minute? "Here you are dear." "Thanks." You turned to the doors. "Oh, and one more thing, dear."

"You best be careful out there, I heard a lot of our townspeople have been gone missing. Can't imagine what would happen to a tourist."

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