It's cold. But I have a blanket so it's alright. The room is dark, with light coming in through the window. The floors are wood, the furnishings are distinctly ikea. The room is predominatly decorated in blue, with old show flyers providing spots of color and life.
The forest is dark, and disappears in the distance in the thick fog. The trees are the tallest I've ever seen, with the fog pooling at the base. Pine trees, Firs, hemlocks, all evergreen trees untouched by time.
The path leads straight into the heart of the woods, linearlly into the heart of the matter. It looks more like an old creek bed than a path.
It's a lake, dark, deep, and blue. Crystal clear all the way to the bottom. Uncomforatbaly serene, the water is swirling and exiting somewhere. The fish know the way.
A hip flask, like a silver bullet. It's strangly modern in this old place, like the future is just as lost as I am.
An antique key, almost goofily large, as it fills the entire palm of my hand. It rusty, and smells weird. The eyelet is in the shape of a heart.
Whatever it unlocks it's something old. Something precious.