Disclaimer: I own nothing. Not Assassins Creed, not the Italian language, not the xbox franchise, just about nothing except the computer I'm writing this on...
Chapter 1:
Finally, it was Friday. After a long, hard week of cramming for tests and staying up late doing homework, I have free time. Most people would probably sleep all weekend, but I have other plans. Those plans involve being slightly lonely, but making up for it with video games. Specifically Assassins Creed. More specifically, Assassins Creed Brotherhood.
I get off the bus and sprint to my house. I happen to be completely out of shape, so I'm out of breath before I reach halfway. Giving up, I walk the rest of the way, greeting any neighbors outside as I do so. I reach my driveway, and it seems like an hour waiting on the broken pavement while the garage door opens with a constant, ear-splitting shriek.
I close the garage door on my way in, and spare a brief moment to pet my dog before jumping down the half-stairs and attempting to do a roll in my haste and excitement. Two band-aids and one ice pack later, im sitting on my couch, turning on the xbox. The loading screen lags for a second, but it doesn't take long to sign in and open up Assassins Creed Brotherhood. I load up my saved file. I am about to start the final fight, the one with Cesare. I must admit that I purposefully didn't save earlier because this was my favorite part of the game.
Five and a half hours into a new game, I find I am getting hungry. And yelled at about dinner. And yelled at to get off of the xbox. Sometimes parents are annoying, ya know? Anyways, I agree to do something other than video games for a bit. After eating dinner, I bring my guitar downstairs. I like to think that I am somewhat good at it, but realistically I kinda suck. Anyways, I spend some time learning how to play Boulevard of Broken Dreams by Green Day. After forty minutes of diligently failing at the transition between the e minor chord and the c chord, I give up and go back to video games.
I finally fall asleep around midnight while playing. Ezio probably died over and over until I woke up. My dreams are always weird, but this one was in particular was so realistic I couldn't tell if it was real or not. I guess it was because it hasn't stopped yet. I woke up at who knows what ungodly hour as the storm started. Even though I was in the basement, it sounded as if I was outside. My dog was probably huddling in her bed, or on my parents'.
The image on the TV started acting a little bit weird, changing colors and vibrating a bit, sometimes showing double vision. I try to bury my head under my pillow in a vain attempt to keep out the booming thunder. After a few minutes, I started feeling something akin to a magnetic pull. It's hard to describe, but I started floating towards the TV. Panicking a bit, but too tired to form any rational thoughts, I grab on to the first thing I can, my guitar. Needless to say, that doesn't help much.
My speed increasing in the short distance towards the TV screen, I slam into it and see a bright light. I wake up what seems like seconds later, but who knows how long it really was, surrounded by something really scratchy. I realize that I can't see anything, and I still have my guitar in my left hand. I use my right hand to claw at the stuff around me, which feels slightly smooth, but a little bit scratchy, almost. I manage to make a hole to the light, and I guess that I'm surrounded by hay.
I struggle to pull myself out, and when I do I fall out of what seems like a roughly made wagon. I land painfully on hard stones, worn smooth by something I don't care to ponder right now. I hope I didn't break my guitar, because it was a present from my favorite uncle. I feel too weak to stand up, so I just lay there until someone yells at me in some language that sounds like Italian. I look up to find an oddly dressed man staring at me, obviously impatient. Behind him I can see two dark brown horses attached to what looks like a wagon people pay to get tours in.
I assume that he wants me to move out of the way, because now that I am mostly conscious I can see a whole bunch of other people moving in the street. I still can't rationalize why everyone is dressed weirdly, but I decide to wonder about that later. I just get up and wander over to the nearest bench. The man passes on without any other complaints. I just fall back asleep on the bench, clutching my guitar.