They say if you have a plan B in mind, you aren't thinking hard enough about plan A. However they also say, don't think too hard. Purely for that reason, I'm an idiot. I wonder the most notorious country of the year. Dresdan, Germany in the lucky year of 1944. I've been wondering around for about a year, surprised a nazi hasn't come and taken me. Heh, I'm lucky I've even survived these streets. All I want to be in this world is a musician. I want to work and make money off my music which has become increasingly hard since Hitler started his "Pure Germany" plots. I'd checked around Berlin only about two months earlier for a resteraunt or orchestra to take me, however it completely sucked ass because no one was hiring and the place was practically brimming with trouble. I doubt Dresden is any better, but what the hell? But, now isn't the time to think and plan my whole little ambitions and dreams and to believe I'm a special, special boy while I'm freezing my ass off.
"Excuse me," I mumbled between chatters. "Is there an inn a can spend the night?" Er… sneak into. Someone halted and pointed down towards the street.
"Take a left at the street corner. Down there should be an inn."
"Thankyou!"
"Whatever." Oh, and how I thought he was a nice person. I buttoned my coat all the way as I turned the corner. Fuck, how was I supposed to see this in with thousands of people all around me? Then, BAM! My hands hit the cold ground, scraped. My bag was thrown across the Earth. A blessing the music I had with me hadn't flown all over the place. Quickly, I brushed my hands on my pants and recollected my bag when I took three seconds to look at the building in front of me. It was a club, "Dresden Club," to be exact, and it was hiring. Holy shit.