Joe Bloggs, Chapter 1

I got this idea for the first few minutes of a very sucky movie/series while sitting on the John; the place where all men hatch great ideas. Right off the bat, I’m never gonna write a second chapter, so don’t bother. Feel free to continue on the story if you like it. Note the the first image is a drawing by Hideyoshi; if you like it, be sure to visit his deviantART account (linked), he has some pretty amazing stuff.




The cold is sharp and painfully awakens me from my slumber. There’s a faint scent of smoke around me. I open my eyes slowly because of the cold and finally notice the lit cigarette in my mouth. Odd, I don’t usually smoke, but I guess it explains the burning sensation in my lungs. It’s little over half-way burned down, so I couldn’t have been out longer than a few minutes.

I try to look around from the position I’m in, but can’t recognize my surroundings. Not that there’s much to look at anyway; two metres to my right is a building, to my left the same. Ahead of me are a few trash cans and further ahead a lot of noise, lights, and people scurrying about. Since I’m sitting upright with my back against something hard, I think I can safely assume I’m in an alley somewhere.

God dammit it’s cold… Why am I not even wearing a jacket? Wait… maybe I got mugged! But why would I then have been smoking? It doesn’t make much sense. Where did the cig even come from when I don’t carry pack around..? And how did I even get to this place to begin with? Sigh, so many questions, so little clothes; I need to get out of here and to someplace warm.

With a little support from the wall behind me, I manage to get up. I’m a bit woozy and my gut hurts; probably catching a cold from the weather. I check the trashcans for clothes, but all I find is a frilly pink shirt that someone threw up on. Not that I’m surprised, it’s so ugly that it’d make me wanna puke too… I might be cold, but no way in hell I’m THAT desperate, so I pass on the shirt and start making my way towards the sea of people in front of me.

As I step into what little light shines into the alley from the surrounding stores and neon advertisments, I look down to protect my eyes, which had become accustomed to the darkness of the alley. That’s when panic struck me; my shirt was completely covered in blood. Fuck fuck FUCK! I must’ve been stabbed, that’s why my gut was hurting! Oh God… Oh God! I need medical attention or I’ll die!! No no, wait, calm down, calm… the fuck… down! Don’t jump to conclusions, just unbotton the shirt and check for wounds, I’ll be fine, no need to worry, had it been serious I would have surely bled out by now.

I stumble back into the darkness of the alley as to not draw unwanted attention. My hands shake as I unbotton my shirt, though this time more from fear of what I might find than from the cold. I quickly scan the front of my torso, but can’t find any kinds of wounds. Wish I could say I was relieved, but the blood had to come from somewhere and I have no idea of how it got on me… But regardless of where the blood came from, there’s no way I can go out among the people like this, I don’t need the attention, which means… sigh… frilly vomit-shirt from Hell, we meet again…

After getting rid of my own shirt and putting on the frilly vomit-shirt, I start making my way through the stream of people. I seem to be in some sort of shopping district, but I don’t understand what’s written on any of the signs in the windows, so I must be in either a foreign district or maybe even a foreign country, in which case, I’m -really- screwed.

As I wander about aimlessly, I pass by an electronics store with some TVs turned on and displayed in the window. They’re set to some news channel, but the volume is off, so I can’t make out what the news anchor is saying. As I’m about to move on, they start covering something that looks like a horrible accident on a road near some woods. It’s difficult to believe that the scene of an accident could be this gory, it looks more like some beast went on the rampage as the bodies are torn to shreds.

I decide to stick around, though I’m not entirely sure why. As video footage of the scene is shown, words fly by at the bottom of the screen, probably related to the incident, I can’t really say. I watch the words regardless, hoping to guess the meaning from any words similar to English. That’s when I saw the names of two of my friends fly by, Christian Anderson and Peter Johnson. They must’ve been the victims. I would have gone into shock right then and there, if it hadn’t been for another name appearing, “sospechoso, Jonathan Bloggs“. My name…

I started running, trying to escape the information I had just learned. Tears started making their way down my cheeks, making the cold winds hurt even more, but I was too far off in my thoughts and panic to care. How did I get here? Why were my friends here? Did the blood on my shirt belong to them? How was I connected to the incident? Am I really their killer..? I needed answers, but first, I needed to rest and get my head together, try to figure what to do next. I escaped the sea of people and let the darkness and cold embrace me as I looked for a place to spend the night. Come morning, I would begin my search of what had truly happened and how this was all connected to me…

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