UNKNOWN TIME
He wakes up. Snowing still. The blood on his face dries a bit. His beard the only thing keeping any of his face warm. He gets up. The sunrise hit's contact with him, making him smolder. He looks around him, a half of mile far from the bar. The dead bodies, surrounding him. He sighs, and pulls out some meat and eats it. He takes a sip of water, and starts walking. The cold surrounding him, he has began to become used to the cold around him. He walks, his feet shuffling, the wind being the only noise he hears as he heads through the snow. He thinks to himself, he thinks there less than 12 miles to get to where he needs to.
34 Minutes later
A town. He finally arrived to where he needed. People crowding the streets, most human. Some of other descents. When he was a child, everyone here was a human. He walks through the street
UNKNOWN TIME
He walks through the streets. Many people giving him harsh to rude stares of...disappointment? He was uncertain of what they could be staring at him for. He walks through the crowded street. He is uncertain to where he is, he stops by a shop or what not, full of blasters..weapons, and even little creatures.
"Do you know where I am? What..street?"
"Yeah hold on. B4E35F4!"
"What in the hell even is that?"
"The street name sir. Is there a problem?"
"Is there anyway, I can see the name history? Or do you know what it's name was before being changed to B4wndnwjs whatever?"
"I believe it to be....Turner St.!"
He immediately walks out, mumbling words of despise to himself. He moves back out onto the street, flying machines move past him. He pulls out a note in his pocket, reads it for a second...and then puts it back. He starts walking. It seems to be ten minutes until he gets to an old house. He pulls the note out, and looks back at the house.
THE ARRIVAL
He arrives to the old broken house. The snow calming down, flakes getting into his now grown beard. He turns around paper in hand and starts breathing heavier. Memories flash hard inside his head. He cannot relive this memories ever again, he knows what he must do. He walks around the house and sees the old garage. He kicks the door down and moves to the back of the garage. It is filled with old machines and mechanics, he caught interest in them. He remembers. He takes a peak at the other things like the old pictures on the ground, and the old carpet.
He finally gets to the back of the garage and kneels down. He knocks on the wooden boards, each one. After two knocks one sounded hollow, he removed the top. It was a key, and an old picture of him and his family. He takes the picture and slides it into his bag, and grabs the key. But finds something else while moving the picture.
"Almost..forgot." He says, as he finds a blowtorch type rod and a tiny tiny bottle of gasoline. He gets up, leaving the floor board opened still. He gets out of the garage, and pours a trail of gas on it. He walks to the house, gas still coming out of the bottle. He unlocks the door. He goes inside.
He sees numerous pictures, paintings, and old things. He remembers. He goes to the table. He opens the note once more.
"Burn. Fires have never felt better. When I die, cremate me. So I am not a memory, I am a burning one. Don't let me stay on this world no longer, let me be free." - Marie. B
He takes out the gasoline, spreading and throwing it everywhere. He lit the torch, and threw it. Burning, his sorrow. Burning his memories. Making his mother, happy.
