The Adventures of a Wanderer
Froody woke up. His vision was blurred and all he could make out was that he was lying on a bed. Slowly he tried to sit up, but the waves of pain that washed through his head forced him to remain lying, face down, on a pink and white floral patterned pillow and duvet. All in all, not exactly where someone that works as courier expects to wake up on a daily basis. Especially when that person distinctly remembers falling asleep in the comfort of their own shack. Slowly, painfully and very carefully he eased himself out of the bed. Then he flopped onto the ground and passed out again from the pain.
Once again, Froody found himself lying on the cursed floral patterned bed. Millions of theories flew through his mind, was he dead? Was this bed some sort of alien that was slowly eating him? Why had he not tried to run away? Deciding that the final question was the most important given his current situation. Froody stood up, and his head buzzed with annoyance. Though he persevered. Looking around, it became clear to him that he was standing in a small and dirty hotel room. The only noticeable features of the room where the bed, the wardrobe and the door that was opposite it. Froody staggered to the door, looking through the little window above the handle into the dark hallway. Suddenly a rotted face slammed into the window, sending Froody stumbling back in fear until he smashed into the wardrobe, which opened and a man in military gear fell out followed by some packets of Radaway and landed on Froody. The soldier was covered in blood and had clearly been dead for some time now. After Froody had removed himself from under the corpse, he noticed a piece of paper with the words: "Feed your pets." Scrawled in black ink.