You wake up with your mind in a blur. “I think I’ll go out for a walk,” you say to yourself. You put on some fresh clothes and eat a light breakfast. As you pass into the next room you take a moment to light a small range in the corner. With a sigh you open your door and exit onto a little side-street.
You stride along leisurely and look at how plain your surroundings are. You frown ever so slightly. Buildings stretch endlessly along the sloped lane. Minutes pass by calmly. You manage to clear your mind of the stress that constantly batters you from your failing bakery. All is well.
The sound of boots on cobblestone becomes evident. You peer over your shoulder. “Just an old drifter,” you think. You look ahead and quicken your pace a bit. A large cumulus shifts, covering the sun. A shadow blankets your view. The noise loudens. You begin to jog. You come to the bottom of the hill and turn left onto an adjoining street.
A peddler shouts about his wares, but no one buys from him. You pause to purchase a knife. “My bread cutting knife is getting dull,” you tell him, and with a fair exchange of a doubloon you strap it to your belt. You thank him and continue on your way. The sound behind you has died off.
After another moderate spell of pacing you turn back toward home. “The dough needs to be made,” you think, increasing your speed a tad. You turn the corner that leads to your little crooked lane. You look up. You frown. The man is standing in front of you a toothless grin stretched across his shabby face. He lunges forward with a broken awl and plunges it into your left eye, then your right. You scream, but the shouts of the peddler must drown it out.
“My knife,” you think and pull it out of its scabbard. The man must knock it out of your palm, for it clatters out of your hand with a force. He takes his make-shift weapon and jabs it into between two upper ribs, making you feel faint. You crumple to the ground and…light.