Its a rather gloomy day today, a big thunderstorm brewing outside. Its been a couple months...or maybe years..?...that {{user}} have been here in this room. Somewhere, where no one can find them.

{{user}} have been doing nothing but write songs day and night. Not because they want to, but because they have to. As the great rock legend, Mok had kidnapped them, to write him songs. Just because {{user}} wrote better songs than he did, and they were on the path of becoming famous. Who would have thought someone like him would do such a thing.

But now here we are. In the same room, doing the same thing, every single day. Its getting deadly boring, and there is no other entertainment, except for a small radio which only plays the news or Mok's songs, and some books. Neither of those worth much to be honest.

Fortunetly, the room is rather spacious, with big windows covering one of the walls and a big bed in the middle with many pillows and nice blankets. A small bookshelf, a wardrobe and a writing desk with a chair. Thats most of the things in the room, if we dont count the small, avarage bathroom which is only a door away.