Unknown Deity

Robert Blackwell winced as the throbbing pain in his head continued to persist, growing stronger by the minute.

"Ouch, damn headache!" he exclaimed, clutching his forehead.

"My head is throbbing so badly!" he muttered to himself, trying to take deep breaths to calm down.

Robert Blackwell woke up feeling as if someone had ruthlessly given him a beating.

His head was throbbing so badly that he could barely move his limbs.

He tried to make sense of his situation, wondering why he had such a headache and if he was going to die young.

As he struggled to regain his senses, his vision was blurred for a moment, before he saw the wooden desk in front of him with a notebook and books arranged neatly.

The desk was made of oak, and its surface was smooth and polished. The books were of various sizes and colors, with titles ranging from philosophy to mathematics.

His headache continues and as he rubbed his temples, he noticed a glint of light reflecting off something on the desk.

He moved closer to investigate and saw a silver pocket watch.

"Strange, I don't remember owning a pocket watch," he said aloud, picking it up to examine it closer.

As he opened the watch, he was surprised to see an inscription on the inside cover:

"To Robert Blackwell, from your loving father."

Robert's heart skipped a beat as he tried to remember anything about his father. He couldn't recall anything at first, but then a faint memory started to surface.

"I remember....a tall man giving me a watch, on my birthday" he said, more to himself than anyone else.

He noticed a Western-style lamp, black ink bottle, and a pen on the desk, along with a revolver.

The lamp had a bronze base with intricate carvings, and its light was dim and warm.

The ink bottle was made of glass, and the pen had a silver nib.

The revolver was old-fashioned, with a wooden grip and a gleaming barrel.

Robert was shocked and confused because the objects in front of him looked nothing like his room.

He tried to move his limbs again, but he was still unable to do so.

He looked down and saw that he was wearing a linen shirt and breeches, with leather boots on his feet.

He noticed that his hands were thin and delicate, with long fingers and well-manicured nails.

Behind him, he saw a low wooden bed and a cabinet.

The bed was covered in a thick woolen blanket, and the pillow was stuffed with feathers.

The cabinet was made of mahogany, with brass handles and keyholes.

He wondered what was inside it.

As he looked around, he noticed the coal stoves, soup pots, and iron pots in the right corner of the room.

The stoves were made of cast iron, and the pots were heavy and blackened by use.

In the other corner, he saw a dressing mirror with two cracks across the right door and a wooden clock.

The clock was tall and grand, with intricate carvings and a brass pendulum that swung steadily.

The wooden tall clock stood proudly in the corner of the room, its polished mahogany case gleaming in the soft glow of the afternoon sun.

The intricate carvings on the case spoke of a time long gone, with delicate floral motifs and swirling patterns adorning the sides and front.

At the top of the clock towered a beautifully carved finial, a majestic eagle spreading its wings in flight. The brass pendulum swung steadily, marking the seconds with a gentle, rhythmic tick-tock that filled the room.

As the clock struck the hour, the chimes rang out, their deep, resonant tones filling the air. The melody was complex, with multiple notes harmonizing together in a beautiful, soothing song that transported the listener to another era.

Robert Blackwell was completely woken up by the sound, and he saw his reflection in the mirror.

He noticed a young boy with black hair, brown pupils, a thin build, average-looking features, and a rather deep outline.

At first, he was too stunned to speak, his mind racing to try and make sense of what he was seeing.

He pinched himself, half-expecting to wake up from a bizarre dream. But the face in the mirror remained, unmoving and unchanging.

Finally, after a few moments of silence, Robert spoke, his voice shaky and unsure.

"Who...who are you?" he asked, addressing the stranger in the mirror.

The reflection didn't answer, of course. It just continued to stare back at him, with the same expression of shock and confusion on its face that Robert was feeling.

As he stared at the stranger's face, a million questions raced through Robert's mind.

How had he ended up in this unfamiliar body? Was he dreaming, or had he somehow traveled through time? And most importantly, was he ever going to be able to get his own face back?

Robert tried to focus on his memories, hoping to piece together what had happened. He remembered going to bed the night before, after a long day.

He had been feeling stressed and tired, but nothing out of the ordinary. And then...nothing.

A blank space in his memory, until he had woken up in this strange room.

He took a deep breath and decided to explore his surroundings, hoping to find some clues as to where he was and how he had ended up here.

He walked around the room, taking note of every detail. The wooden desk in front of him was cluttered with books and papers, and a black ink bottle and pen sat next to a revolver, and the engraved silver watch.

On the left side of the desk, there was a Western-style lamp that cast a warm glow over the room.

To his right, he saw a low wooden bed and a cabinet, both of which looked well-worn and old-fashioned. The coal stoves, soup pots, and iron pots in the right corner of the room suggested that the occupant of this room was probably cooking their own meals.

In the other corner, a dressing mirror with two cracks across the right door and a wooden clock.

He approached the cabinet, curious about its contents. The cabinet was made of mahogany, with brass handles and keyholes, and it looked old and well-worn.

Robert examined the cabinet closely, trying to find a way to open it. He noticed that the lock was old and rusted, but he managed to open without the key with some effort.

As he opened the cabinet, he saw a collection of clothes neatly folded on the shelves. There were shirts, trousers, jackets, and even a few hats. They were all made of high-quality materials, such as silk, wool, and leather.

Robert couldn't believe his eyes. He had never seen such luxurious clothing before. He wondered who they belonged to and why they were here.

He picked up a shirt and examined it closely. It was made of soft silk, with intricate embroidery on the collar and cuffs. The color was a deep blue, which would have looked great against his own skin.

He decided to try on one of the shirts, just to see how it felt. As he changed into the new clothes, he noticed how different he looked in the mirror. The clothes fit him perfectly, but the person staring back at him was a stranger.

He was now convinced that he was not dreaming, as the details of the room seemed too vivid and real.

He leaned in closer to the mirror, studying his features carefully. The boy staring back at him had black hair, brown pupils, a silk shirt, a thin build, average-looking features, and a rather deep outline.

"Who am I?" Robert whispered to himself, his voice barely audible.

The pain in his head returned suddenly, causing him to wince and stumble a few steps before steadying himself against the desk. He took a few deep breaths, trying to push the pain away, but it refused to relent.

"Did I fall or something? Did someone tried to kill me?" Robert wondered aloud, rubbing the back of his head with his hand.

As he pulled his hand away, he saw the deep crimson color staining his fingertips and palm.

The sight of his own blood made his heart race, and a sense of panic and fear began to wash over him.

"What the hell is going on?" he muttered, feeling a sense of unease.

Just then, he heard a sharp, urgent knock on one of the doors. It jolted him out of his thoughts, and he quickly composed himself, picking up the revolver and walking over to the door.

"Who is it?" he called out, his voice slightly shaky.

"It's me, John. Open up, quickly!" came the muffled voice from the other side.

Robert's heart raced as he heard the urgency in John's voice.

Robert hesitated for a moment, wondering who this John was and why he was in such a rush.

He took a deep breath, then reached for the doorknob, feeling a sense of apprehension.