A change of scene, with no regret.
There it was again.
It'd been months, at least, maybe a year since he'd seen one - but in reality, he knew them a bit too well. He'd spent months in the apartment, checking every room he could for it. He'd even begun sneaking into people's apartments when they were away, in the vain hope he'd find one that'd lead him back home. He never found the hole back, though. Little by little, Henry began to realize that it just wasn't going to come.
So then imagine his surprise at the thundering crash from his bathroom, followed by the tinkling of porcelain. He sat up in bed. He knew that noise; and he knew it a bit too well. Henry grabbed the canvas backpack he'd found in one of the apartments. He tossed the only belongings he had of note into it; his journal, the length of pipe he'd found, and a camera. He gave the apartment one last look-over, and then stuck his head in the bathroom.
It was more than wide enough for him to easily fit in; if he had wanted to, he likely could have stood in it. The familiar whispering was quieter than before, but otherwise it seemed to be much the same as before. He took a deep breath, and crawled into the hole. He wasn't sure what would be on the other side. Whatever it was, it couldn't be worse than where he had been. He pushed forward into the darkness....
His eyes slowly open, the dazed, sleep-like state falling away from him. He stood, and looked around. The buildings certainly didn't look familiar to him. And on the wall in front of him; what curious graffiti.
"Eden?", he mumbled, "What the hell?"
It'd been months, at least, maybe a year since he'd seen one - but in reality, he knew them a bit too well. He'd spent months in the apartment, checking every room he could for it. He'd even begun sneaking into people's apartments when they were away, in the vain hope he'd find one that'd lead him back home. He never found the hole back, though. Little by little, Henry began to realize that it just wasn't going to come.
So then imagine his surprise at the thundering crash from his bathroom, followed by the tinkling of porcelain. He sat up in bed. He knew that noise; and he knew it a bit too well. Henry grabbed the canvas backpack he'd found in one of the apartments. He tossed the only belongings he had of note into it; his journal, the length of pipe he'd found, and a camera. He gave the apartment one last look-over, and then stuck his head in the bathroom.
It was more than wide enough for him to easily fit in; if he had wanted to, he likely could have stood in it. The familiar whispering was quieter than before, but otherwise it seemed to be much the same as before. He took a deep breath, and crawled into the hole. He wasn't sure what would be on the other side. Whatever it was, it couldn't be worse than where he had been. He pushed forward into the darkness....
His eyes slowly open, the dazed, sleep-like state falling away from him. He stood, and looked around. The buildings certainly didn't look familiar to him. And on the wall in front of him; what curious graffiti.
"Eden?", he mumbled, "What the hell?"