[30 / 5 / ?]
What kind of life did you live so far? Uneventful. Boring. Ordinary. To push yourself for a dedication, occupation or hobby you don't really know how its like. You just are.
All that doesn't matter in the forever it took for now to pass. Like deer in headlights, your life passed by as you're caught out on the street towards collision.
SMACK. You splay out on the hood of the car. You look up at the windshield. There was no driver. As if on realization, the car screeches to a stop, sending you off further onto the street.
You take a deep breath. Nothing seems to be wrong. A few more to be sure. You're... Uninjured? Arising, you note that the car's front seemed to have shown more damage than you are. Getting close to the driver's side, you see no sign that anyone was ever there. No brick on the pedals or even a key in the ignition. Almost overlooking an obvious requirement, the car doesn't even have license plates.
There is a note on the driver's seat. The window was rolled down, making access easy.
>"Sorry, it's not your fault. There's a girl, monochromatic, save for her piercing amber eyes. If you see her, turn around and run."
That was all there was to read. All this to tell you that. Further investigation of the car yielded nothing. Trunk is empty, and no way to entertain the idea of taking this for yourself without any way to start it.
Uneasiness creeps in, no thanks to the contents of the note. What's easier to take in? That fact that you might now be a victim of the supernatural, or that you're currently walking off a car accident? The way back home was peaceful, and you soon find yourself back in the safety of home. Sleeping in, you wake up late in the afternoon, as if recent events was just a distant dream. The note crumpled up around your desk is proof otherwise, having took it with you.
>Maybe I should go and get checked out. Walk in the hospital for a check up.
>Go outside and bum about like I always do. Something nice might finally happen.
>Stay home and indulge in the pleasures of NEETdom. There's a load of nothing to be done.
All that doesn't matter in the forever it took for now to pass. Like deer in headlights, your life passed by as you're caught out on the street towards collision.
SMACK. You splay out on the hood of the car. You look up at the windshield. There was no driver. As if on realization, the car screeches to a stop, sending you off further onto the street.
You take a deep breath. Nothing seems to be wrong. A few more to be sure. You're... Uninjured? Arising, you note that the car's front seemed to have shown more damage than you are. Getting close to the driver's side, you see no sign that anyone was ever there. No brick on the pedals or even a key in the ignition. Almost overlooking an obvious requirement, the car doesn't even have license plates.
There is a note on the driver's seat. The window was rolled down, making access easy.
>"Sorry, it's not your fault. There's a girl, monochromatic, save for her piercing amber eyes. If you see her, turn around and run."
That was all there was to read. All this to tell you that. Further investigation of the car yielded nothing. Trunk is empty, and no way to entertain the idea of taking this for yourself without any way to start it.
Uneasiness creeps in, no thanks to the contents of the note. What's easier to take in? That fact that you might now be a victim of the supernatural, or that you're currently walking off a car accident? The way back home was peaceful, and you soon find yourself back in the safety of home. Sleeping in, you wake up late in the afternoon, as if recent events was just a distant dream. The note crumpled up around your desk is proof otherwise, having took it with you.
>Maybe I should go and get checked out. Walk in the hospital for a check up.
>Go outside and bum about like I always do. Something nice might finally happen.
>Stay home and indulge in the pleasures of NEETdom. There's a load of nothing to be done.
