This is a work of fiction. Nothing is real, everything is permitted.
It was a bitterly cold December night in the Midwest. The kind of night where, when a cold gust blows, you breathe it in and it knocks all the wind out of you. A man was just getting home from a bar, fumbling with his keys, trying to get inside, out of the bitter chill of the nights air. As he found the right key and began inserting it into the lock, he heard a shuffling sound from behind his door. It was very distinct, as if someone had just quickly moved out of the way just in time. He paused with the key in the lock, trying to decide if he had actually heard it, or if he was just that drunk. After a brief moment's pause, he decided it was nothing to be concerned about, and turned the key and entered his home. Right away something seemed off. Not that it was a bad kind of off. It was actually pleasant. There was a very sweet scent permeating through the house. Something he couldn't quite put his finger on, but was very familiar to him. He, once again deciding it was nothing to be bothered about, went to the shower and let the hot water fall over him. He was on the verge of sleep, he could barely stand in the shower and the sweet scent he had smelled earlier was coming back. It almost had the scent of a perfume, but was completely beyond his grasp of understanding or remembering what it was, and where it was coming from. He was breathing it in deep, trying to place it with a memory, or person, but it just wasn't happening. He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply once more, focusing on the scent, but as soon as he started exhaling, he felt a sudden and excruciating pain on the back of his head and fell, unconscious.