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Prologue

It's a windy februrary night in the monotonous streets of one of Berlins industrial districts, in there you can see a staggering figure wandering around. The pale moonlight shined on the cold brick floor, giving the figure a mysteious look.

While it goes forward, barely standing on it's legs, it quietly blabbers something, words that are not supposed to be heard by anyone besides itself. As it is moving in a straight direction, it's getting more tense with each step, as if it would die if it doesn't arrive at it's destination in time.

Suddenly a strong gust of wind exposes the figures head from a cover, revealing a ghost like face, white like the moons surface itself, with not less pale hear, falling from the sides of it's heaf. In the red-brown eyes is a look as if the person was hypnotized, fixated at only it's destination and nothing else. Now it is getting slower, until it stops in front of an abandoned factory. As the person looks up, it's eyes start looking surprised, then it beginnes mumbling in an manly voice

pale man: "What? Is it really here? This can't be. *hick* But this here is the *hick* place, written on the note.

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

                  Wait, can it be? Did she really *hick* give me a wrong adress? Crap! And I thougt I could have a nice

                  *hick* one night stand, once in a time again."

As the man swears about the women who gave him the wrong adress, he starts to walk away into the direction he came from.

pale man: "It's now already the *hick* twelved time this month, that this happened. Have all women in the whole town                        sworn *hick* themselves against me or what is up with that? Man, I'm done with women."

While the man walkes home, the first rays of sunlight are to be seen, showing up at the horizon.

pale man: "Oh, I'll have to hurry up if I want to be home in time, I haven't got my sunshade with me

                   and I don't want a sunburn."

Like this the man goes back to his house to go to sleep, his skin making him seem like a lost soul, searching for relief.

As he walks, something shimmers at his fingers. At every of them, the pale man wears one ring.

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