think.

1: Setting

"Hello you. Your colours haven't faded yet. Your red still bright as cherry, green fresh as lime. I'm happy I got you out, you've been hiding in there for so long! In that dusty old cabinet, now you can be with your friends."

A young hand grasps another blanket from the cupboard on the wall. His tendons move down his scrawny arm as he lifts the blanket around his shoulders. It settles on the already massive pile of blankets behind him. He's warmer now. He thinks it helps. He also thinks all the other blankets filling the small room to the ceiling will keep him warm too, but they do not. He is still frigid.

Beside the lump that is his body, there lies a wall with a window in it, but a window so foggy, you can't see outside... if there is an outside.

He has a journal, a pen and a simple talisman. The journal is black leather, he keeps it hidden within his nest of blankets surrounding himself. The pen is a worn, gold fountain pen that never seems to run down on ink, and used to write down his dreams. The talisman, around his neck, an almond on string.

"Flick flick, I like how you move back and forth. You impress me, majestic..."

He stares at the flame. The flame of a candle inside of a lamp. A lamp hanging on the wall across from the window. The light casts shadows of mystical beasts across the room from shining behind the rumpled blankets. He looks at the wood. Wood of the walls. Wood of the ladder in the middle of the room. The ceiling only 4 feet high.

He pull the blankets closer to his flesh. He still shivers. A sleek black crow enters through a hole in the corner of the room, followed by the faint sent of the sea. The bird pecks on his head. 3 times.

"Three times more than last time, what is new little bird?"

Tied to the leg of the crow he notices a note bound with purple ribbon.

"Stay warm."

He removes the paper with a delicate hand, slowly unravelling the bow...