What does it have in it's pocketses, Precious?

*Gollum*Whats do you have in your pocketses, Precious? *Gollum*


Left pocket: some loose pants thread
my Blackberreh
my hanky

Right pocket: some bits of Nerds candy thingy
a menthol candy

 

I don't have pants on D:

 

Stares at trent *smiles

 

I have underwear on ;D

 

left pocket : nothing
right pocket: recycled glow in the dark condom .

 

we wants it precious!

 

Left side: Air
Right Side: Air
Back side: Gas (fart)

 

-Day 1:

I woke up in this dark part of the world, alone, not knowing who I was, and what was I doing. I found this small book on my front right jacket pocket that, apparently, is a diary; though it does not have a name or some sort of ID in it. All the pages until the the ones I am writing in now were torn, so its not possible to know if it belonged to me by comparing the writing style, or to somebody else.

Checking on my jacket pockets I found something that put in a very altered state; a female human null finger, it had a ring attached to it still, so I am assuming its the left one; more so, the finger of a married person. What was that doing in my pocket? Why it stirs in me some lingering affection? After some minutes, without being able to throw it away, I put it back in the pocket; took me a couple seconds and several breath intakes to let it go from my hand, I can´t really identify the emotion attached to it but is suspicious at best. My other side pocket contained a very thin a long wire carefully packed in a way that was easy to use. There is some sort of red dried substance in it, it gives me the shivers but in a automatic way I put it where I got it.

After that, I dared to look up my surroundings with more detail, not so absorbed in my identity anymore. A dark alley in a dusty town in the middle of I don´t know where; I walked on shy steps to the end of it and a burst of light stopped me. People were walking in their everyday lives, the idea of asking where I was crossed my mind, but it was discarded in the next heartbeat; I didn´t want to attract the attention of some unknown people. A ridiculous perception indeed, of what was I defending of? Was I in some sort of trouble? I couldn´t tell, but all my guts told me to keep quiet and to keep moving.

My steps took me to a very crowded hotel, I entered and walked as casually as I could, trying my best not to be noticed. From who or what, I couldn´t tell. The frustration that these predeterminated behaviors were causing on me was unnerving. Suddenly an elevator door opened and some rich guy came out of it walking as if the world belonged to him; his expression was simply driving me mad, my hand touched my jacket pocket where the finger was in. A black anger was consuming me, and I could´t get it off my mind. The idea of jumping on him and beat him to death crossed my head, but he was accompanied by several people. Too many targets to move on now.

The guy was still on the hotel, I can´t resist the urge to go am assault him, like i am compelled to do so. I grabbed the wire but it was in the most natural way. Yes, I am gonna do it. I ll write the result of it after I have done it. No idea who I am or what I am, but I feel like doing this is a sacred mission, like the finger in my pocket demanded it, these pockets define me now. I´ll know for better later.

 

-Day 2:

I ran a long distance, its hard to move now, the blood dripping from the wire, the stains on the jacket and a bullet in my side; make it hard to hide and to escape. I put my hand on the pocket and strongly grab the finger that lies in it, begging for forgiveness and also an strange sense of accomplishment. Yet the reason why those emotions are triggering is a mystery. Yet my comfort lasted only for a moment after a high pain spike rang in my brain, the bullet hole was making me leak a lot of life in the ground and my force was getting dim at the second.

The idea of dying didn´t cause much distress, even at the realization of such a heinous act, peace was all that remained. I can hear the steps coming in my direction, it will all be over soon and I can feel more at ease about it.... (sudden end)

-"we found him, we knock him out, he is bleeding... Yes, sir. We will move him to HQ... Yes sir, he is grabbing the finger in his hand, the program ´pocket life´ was a success... We are moving now"

 

-Day 1:

The heat is absurd, I woke up in this alley, the white buildings look old and historical. When I focus my eyes I can see that the sands of the desert are all over the place. A city in the sand... No idea where that may be. I stand up and noticed something in the pockets of my jackets; an small book, looks like a diary, until the pages I am writing on, all the others are torn of; I can´t tell if its mine or not, no ID is supplied in it as well. My other pocket has a very disturbing object; a female human null finger, by the ring attached to it I can tell is from the left hand and also that it belongs to a married person. I feel a strong sense of belonging to it, like something important is attached to it, the lingering affection makes my head fuzzy and in pain.

My other pocket has a wire, a long thin wire that is covered in a dried red substance, feels gross and uncomfortable, but somehow all natural in my hand, stored in a way that makes it very easy to access of needed, no idea at this point for what. But, somehow I feel for what it may be used for. Somehow, I have something like a memory of anger attached to it, against someone. Can´t tell to whom, but its like someone with some sort of power... But there is never a reason to that feeling. What the hell is going on here? What was I supposed to do? I have the feeling that I have been doing it for a good while now.

I feel nervous like something is missing, or more likely that I know what it is.

A strong pain pierced my head, it repeat itself every few seconds, I see things in every spike, decapitated people, a finger and a diary with torn pages, but it looks like the diary has more pages in the flashbacks. What the hell is going on? I can´t move now, the pain is harder and frequency of the spikes faster. I can´t----

 

-Day 2:

Just a moment of respite, almost 12 hours since the last time I wrote. I am being pursued, people in black suits, I run and lost them and they always find me. I don´t have much time; apparently I am an assassin, project ´pocket life´ they called it, dont remember all the details, not know though. Maybe more will come at me soon, it appears that I am trained and put under heavy suggestion to remember a some sort of vengeance upon recovering some objects in my pockets, these will lead me to an location where a target lies, I am supposed to kill him with the wire in my pocket. The finger indeed did belonged to my wife that was killed by some sort of rich bastard that abused her, I couldn´t save her. After my breakdown some people took me and put me in the project, using my anger and love for my deceased wife they suggested me to perform these killings. But the suggestion is gone, they used it far to many times, as the torn diary pages. Every time in a different part of the world. Now I have to know who the next target is, find him/her and try to learn what he is marked... something that let me find the attackers. Outside from the project name I don´t know to what organization it belongs.

Damn, steps once again, I have found... gotta run now.