@"Silver"
The earlier morning, Freddy woke up after an intense dream. It was hell - literally. He'd dreamt that he was in hell. And he was no longer a key. He was a massive monstrosity, towering over everyone else. And everyone else was just as inhuman as he was, running around a city almost normal, were it not for the disturbing addition of all sorts of organic matter everywhere. And the omnipresence of the tentacles.
He shot out of his box, slamming onto the lamp at the bedside table of whoever's room it was he snuck into. Before the resident could be awoken by the noise, he floated away, knowing what he should do, and what the dream meant.
As he zoomed away, he went off in search of a certain person. A few days back, he'd started hearing rumors of people regaining some specific things. Drunks talking about getting their lives back together. Other drunks talking about recovering more valuable things.
Souls, for instance.
Freddy needed his own soul back. Or at least get it out of the key - he could figure out the next step after that. He had a plan in his head, and the dreams were egging him on.
All of the rumors he heard had a common factor: there was a singular figure involved in all of them. A girl, so he heard - though he didn't get any specifics, he knew enough to find the girl.
Even then, it took him the better part of the day to find her, and it was almost nightfall when he did - at the outskirts of the city. Carefully, he floated over to her shoulder and perched his tiny silver form on her, near the ear. The hole for his keyring shifted form, turning into a slit then widening up as he said,
"My name's Freddy and I need your help."
The earlier morning, Freddy woke up after an intense dream. It was hell - literally. He'd dreamt that he was in hell. And he was no longer a key. He was a massive monstrosity, towering over everyone else. And everyone else was just as inhuman as he was, running around a city almost normal, were it not for the disturbing addition of all sorts of organic matter everywhere. And the omnipresence of the tentacles.
He shot out of his box, slamming onto the lamp at the bedside table of whoever's room it was he snuck into. Before the resident could be awoken by the noise, he floated away, knowing what he should do, and what the dream meant.
As he zoomed away, he went off in search of a certain person. A few days back, he'd started hearing rumors of people regaining some specific things. Drunks talking about getting their lives back together. Other drunks talking about recovering more valuable things.
Souls, for instance.
Freddy needed his own soul back. Or at least get it out of the key - he could figure out the next step after that. He had a plan in his head, and the dreams were egging him on.
All of the rumors he heard had a common factor: there was a singular figure involved in all of them. A girl, so he heard - though he didn't get any specifics, he knew enough to find the girl.
Even then, it took him the better part of the day to find her, and it was almost nightfall when he did - at the outskirts of the city. Carefully, he floated over to her shoulder and perched his tiny silver form on her, near the ear. The hole for his keyring shifted form, turning into a slit then widening up as he said,
"My name's Freddy and I need your help."