As the sun sets over the golden horizon, the weather drops significantly. Dipping the man in the woods into a cold stupor. The young man can't recall anything, All he remembers is waking in a forested, tree covered plain hours prior. He can't even recall his own name! As he wanders aimlessly around, searching for a warm, well-lit shelter in which to stay until he could find help, find a place to rest, and to find a place to regain his senses. As his vision wanes in front of the beautiful, golden setting sun. The distant breaking of twigs snaps his senses to attention. His mind races to cover for the distant resonance. Perhaps an animal? Natural causes? Perhaps it's a person. Maybe someone who could provide aid to his weary body? He trudges through the leaf-covered forest floor, slowly on his way towards the sound. As he gets closer to where he believes the noise originated from, he sees a small cabin in the distance. There was only a single candle lit for what he could see, it flickers ever so slightly inside the wooden domicile. Approaching the ominous cabin, he takes note that the wooden cabin appears to have had been there for a extended amount of time, perhaps centuries even. The wood adorning the cabin looks to be growing a greenish, purple speckled moss over its brazen, brown sides. His pace quickens, as fast as he could on a injured, crippled leg, as he's eager to get out of the cold that nips his bare skin. the linen shirt he dons isn't thick enough to provide him proper warmth. He stumbles through the ajar door, as he hobbled into the tiles foyer, he is utterly speechless. The interiors shine casts a bright ray of light unto his dilated eyes. The inside of the cabin, in comparison to its exterior, seems as though the inside of a city sky rise. It's tiled floors are a bright, radiant white. The windows, it seems, are covered with large, flare screened televisions. Creating the illusion of a comfy, lofty woodland cabin.
Hope ignited within him 'perhaps I could ask them for help, or maybe could call someone who could provide medical help.' he thought to himself. He searched the building. He peered into a singular bedroom. Decorated simply with a plain, white bed and a small, nightstand supporting another lamp. Limping down the attached hallway, he arrived at a open bathroom. The medicine cabinet was ajar above the porcelain sink. The toilet, a pristine, white throne, seemed unused. Hobbling down the stairs, he arrived in the sitting room. The fire roaring below the fireplace crackled as he set his weary soul into a wooden chair. After staring longing into the fire, he peered past the electronic screen. Hoping that a person, anyone, to arrive. But alas, the dancing of shadows plays tricks on him as he resolved into a deeper sitting.
With a brief, swift motion, the sound of shoes scuffing against the tiled floors snapped his view the darker foyer. His eyes snapped to the white, valved door that stands a mere 15 feet from where he sat. Slowly arising, he stepped once toward the valved door. Moving swiftly, he pressed both hands against the valve. Quickly rotating it leftward. It stopped with a loud thud, the locks within turning and rotating.
