[The Sky Will Break When I Wake]
Thunder drowned out any sound beyond itself in the Trüble Manor. Without a single cloud in the sky, this was beyond the usual 'unusual' happenings on the property. Again and again, the sky howled with a fierce rebellion to normality. So hard, in fact, the Earth beneath it moved. The ground shifted, the walls cracked. The moon broke around the sky with a snap. Like the waves of the temperamental sea, the grass and earth moved and rolled enough to lift the pine boxes of all manner of dead from the soil.
Within the manor the tremors had begun to shake the floors so bad the marble had cracked and crumbled. In the basement the forgotten horrors of Necromancy shrieked and cried out in panic to this sudden quake of life. Blood flooded up from the tiny holes in the basement floor from the wells of rotting liquid of life and power, bubbling over to the steps. Curtain rods clanged to the crumbled white marble and the paintings were falling as if being torn and thrown from the walls they were bound. Canvas ripped and bled with paint. Photographs aged years within the darkness of the unhallowed house, leaving beautiful standing forms as skeletal hauntings of their former selves.
Far away, left in the ruins of a cemetery not of the Manors home world, the calm was broken by the single crack of granite. A tombstone had split in half, spilling out the crimson of the body buried beneath the grassing surface.
But, left inside the Trüble Manor, was a single slightly skewed portrait stained by bright green paint slathered on by a human hand.
ONLY ONE
ONLY ONE
ONLY ME
Within the manor the tremors had begun to shake the floors so bad the marble had cracked and crumbled. In the basement the forgotten horrors of Necromancy shrieked and cried out in panic to this sudden quake of life. Blood flooded up from the tiny holes in the basement floor from the wells of rotting liquid of life and power, bubbling over to the steps. Curtain rods clanged to the crumbled white marble and the paintings were falling as if being torn and thrown from the walls they were bound. Canvas ripped and bled with paint. Photographs aged years within the darkness of the unhallowed house, leaving beautiful standing forms as skeletal hauntings of their former selves.
Far away, left in the ruins of a cemetery not of the Manors home world, the calm was broken by the single crack of granite. A tombstone had split in half, spilling out the crimson of the body buried beneath the grassing surface.
But, left inside the Trüble Manor, was a single slightly skewed portrait stained by bright green paint slathered on by a human hand.
ONLY ONE
ONLY ONE
ONLY ME