Stuart stood in a hazy room, vision tracked to the drizzle of rain on the window before him. On the other side of the transparent surface, was indeed the rain, cold and spear-like, the drizzle somewhat becoming torrents.
The concrete city was dull as always, grey and dark as the skies above. The male was glad to be sheltered from this, despite being a bit cold.
Meanwhile, as the frontman was lost in thought, he didn't notice or hear a scuffling shuffle from behind his front door. Nor did the blue haired boy notice the shrill screech of the iron rackety letterbox, and a push of what seemed a tube or hose.
A glower of a red eye peered briefly through the slit in the door, aside the tube, then retracted. The eye belonged to a sombre and a very unpleasant smelling fellow otherwise named, " The Boogieman" or "Flatulence".
Gas flooded through the tube mentioned prior and seeing as such a gas was odourless, it was the smell of the gasmasked, red eyed fellow who'd just left that was the source of such a pestilence. Stuart's nose twitched once. Twice. And it was only when the gas got to his head that he wondered,
"What the flippin' heck is that ponging smell?"
His head teetered back and forth a little, before his neck muscles gave out, and the thin mass of his body slumped forwards, head slamming unfortunately into the window, cracking the double glazed pane. What a pain. The 'face ache' was knocked out cold, yet by some unmiraculous miracle, he was still standing.
His mind was blank.
With a sniff and a hint of a groan, the male found himself waking up in a pitch black and very confined space. He coughed a little. Oxygen was sparce. His eyes opened wider, a sort of panic and growing anxiety welling in his stomach. He was afraid of the dark, why was he in the dark? Why was he all scrunched up in what seemed some mould smelling box. Before he began to hyperventilate, he pressed his sweaty and frail palms against the sides of said containing object, pushing and shoving.
The rickety locket which shook as he moved around loosened up, a crack of light and air gracing his body. Suddenly, he felt his world was falling down, but it was just the sodding box that had fell flat on it's side. With more air and less fear of the now dissipated darkness, and the sideways facing box, he shifted inside and riled one of his long legs back. With the remaining energy he had, he had to go and half punt the sodding lid open.
The dim light only half blinded him for a second, for the time that his blood filled eyes would accommodate to the pinkish light. His senses grew back to his usually low level and he blinked, mouth partially open, as he calmed down slowly.
2-D's eyes focused further and the light.. The pink glower was due to the water's light reverberation onto a giant mass of floor and walls which were tangled and compressed pieces of gross fluorescent spray painted pink coating.
Minutes of assimilation passed until the blue-head finally found the idea to get out of the bordeaux red suitcase which had been his, say, napping area? He shook his head. He didn't remember falling asleep. Let alone in a bloody suitcase.
The individual grimaced as he stretched his long arms and spaghetti like legs, his back aching like all hell. His mind was all fuzzy, well, more fuzzy than usual before he called out, most probably in vain.
"Hello?" His shaky and quite puny voice called out once more. "Hello? Is there anyone there?" He held his arms close to his body and felt a shiver roll down his spine. He glanced around, even more anxiously and more feebly asked into the penumbra, "Can anyone hear me?"
And no one answered back.
