At this point, the effects of the Datura began to take effect. I had no memory of it afterwards, it came back slowly in pieces-
I suddenly wondered why it was getting dark out this early. I wondered around J's empty house, looking for the three that had abandoned me. I looked outside, the driveway was empty. (They left me here!)-I felt a quick anger for R and J, 'They went out to have fun and didn’t take me-what an asshole.'
'KNOCK KNOCK!' I heard a loud knock at J's door. I hurried over to the large wooden door, and opened it.
On the other side stood a very familiar figure. A face as white and blank as a sheet of paper, deep, brown piercing eyes, and long curly black hair. It was Eric Draven-from the Crow. I starred at him for a long time. The image of him filling J's doorway looked very real and natural. There was no fear of bewilderment. He spoke-he sounded exactly the same from his movies.
'Suddenly I heard a tapping, tapping gently at my chamber door. You did hear me rapping?' he quoted 'The Raven'. I suddenly had a feeling that he had done something with J, Brice, and R. It wasnt an thought out idea, just a notion, a premonition.
'What have you done with R. and J?'
'He had a friend who liked to play with knives. Like the coat?'
'I dont know???' I shut the door. Then it hit me.
'I opened the door again.' Nothing was there.
'I must be losing my damn mind.' I said out loud.
I needed a place to relax, I needed sanctuary. I opened the sliding door to J's backyard and wondered into his mom's nicely kept japanese garden. It was twilight now, the far away stars shown brightly overhead-like God's looking down at me. I heard footsteps against the stone pebbles behind me. I turned around.
There was an elderly Japanese man standing there. He wore a japanese kimono with a matching white hakama. His expression was solemn. He bore two swords at his belt, bolt sheathed in a beautiful bright red scabbab. I stared at him, feeling threatened. Even though nothing was obvious, I felt violence coming off him, in thick noxious waves. He took a step toward me, one hand on the handle of his large two swords. I backed away, the threat unmistakable. He spoke, in rapid Japanese. I could not understand his language, but It was almost like the meaning was being fed to me telepathically.
'I am Musashi. I have killed over 60 men in duels. I have longed to fight with you. Come now.'
I felt my hands holding something, it was the scabbab and handle to a black katana. I don’t know where it came from, but the everything seemed natural. I sheathed the blade at my waist and faced him, ready to duel. He drew both of his blades-making a loud scraping sound as they were removed. We began to duel. Everything was difficult to describe at that point, everytime his two blades would close in on me at slow motion, I somehow found a way to avoid being slashed. The whole thing seemed to move in frames. I kept thinking to myself that I wasn't fast enough, that he was going to cut me. But he never did. Then suddenly, he vanished, so did the very sword that I was holding, did my memory of Eric Draven at my door, or Musashi for that matter, I just know I was standing in J's backyard and it was nighttime out.
