Slowly, it dawned on him that he was looking at his own suitcase.Thoughts began racing through his head. He was trying to decide whether heshould bring the suitcase into the house. He looked around to see if Billwas near, and saw that he wasn't. He quietly covered the suitcase back up,found his cap, and went to the back of the house.Bill was already outside. He had decided that the deck needed to be stainedand he was removing the deck furniture. "Grab a broom and clean under wherethe furniture was," he said to Sam.Sam quickly fell into submissive mode and did as Bill instructed. After thefurniture was off, they got to work on the deck, starting at opposite endsand making sure they didn't paint themselves into a corner. The deck wasfairly large. After one coat, they took a break for a drink, and then gaveit another coat. By then, it was lunch time so they paused. Sam went in andmade them sandwiches.After lunch, Bill decided to work on clearing some brush along the path. The cool, dank air is tickling my skin all over. There is musky smell in the air. A basement? no. there is something clean about the smell. It's somewhere old, I smell old polished wood, and stone...a church? perhaps.There is a soft droning sound. It's not unpleasant or pleasant. It just consumes the room. It's all I can hear. It's like...a pipe organ, playing notes that don't belong together. but it's not. Maybe it's wind, howling through an opening somewhere...but it's too constant, and unchanging. There are brief sensations of terror, but I don't know why, almost like dementia, fleeting thoughts, that you can't seem to remember only seconds later. What the fuck is going on?Where am I?The sound suddenly stops. Utter silence. Terrifying silence. Then I realize the silence is not silence, but deafening. I just cannot hear. and the perceived silence slowly morphs into a high pitched buzzing in my ear that get's louder and louder, with an accompanying pressure in my.
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