(no subject)
Peace of mind is a luxury not afforded to the lost and confused. The House knows this and capitalizes it to the extreme. Walls never shift but perception always moving.
The foyer... how long has it been since I simply stood within its confines hoping that this was the worst of it? The most elegant of all the rooms; its bid to keep those that have walked in to walking further. Dust and webs not so thick, stains hidden away. The smell of copper not as strong in here. Its never this easy though.
If one remains in this place too long things bend and move. Shadows become longer, deeper. Sparse light weakens its will more. Run, its coming. How far away is the staircase again? Shit. Up or down? The second floor or the basement? Whispers from above. Hushed tones conspiring ill intent. Downstairs: quiet. Morbid curiousity drives me down, not wishing to meet those voices from the floor up.
Creamy darkness swallows me whole. Hands reaching out half expecting hands to reach back for me. There it is. The switch. Light.
This part of the basement is smaller than the rest of the rooms connected to it. I know the rooms are there. Right now though they do not matter. Mirrors, so many mirrors. I'm not in a single one. The girl is looking back at me. She sits at a desk in front of the wall of mirrors, occasionally glancing my way. Her china-doll hands pick up bloodied lipstick. It almost reaches her lips when to my surprise she drops it and grasps the sides of her face. She pulls, oh jesus, she pulls. Flesh tears, skin breaks away. So much raw meat remains on her frame crawling with insects. Lumpy white things crawl in and out of her. Feasting, supping on her being.
"Please, make it stop dear."
"I can't, I can't do this."
"Oh, you can, they want to taste you, feel you."
"Please, stop..."
"No, that can't happen, they already know, she knows and you'll know too."
The foyer... how long has it been since I simply stood within its confines hoping that this was the worst of it? The most elegant of all the rooms; its bid to keep those that have walked in to walking further. Dust and webs not so thick, stains hidden away. The smell of copper not as strong in here. Its never this easy though.
If one remains in this place too long things bend and move. Shadows become longer, deeper. Sparse light weakens its will more. Run, its coming. How far away is the staircase again? Shit. Up or down? The second floor or the basement? Whispers from above. Hushed tones conspiring ill intent. Downstairs: quiet. Morbid curiousity drives me down, not wishing to meet those voices from the floor up.
Creamy darkness swallows me whole. Hands reaching out half expecting hands to reach back for me. There it is. The switch. Light.
This part of the basement is smaller than the rest of the rooms connected to it. I know the rooms are there. Right now though they do not matter. Mirrors, so many mirrors. I'm not in a single one. The girl is looking back at me. She sits at a desk in front of the wall of mirrors, occasionally glancing my way. Her china-doll hands pick up bloodied lipstick. It almost reaches her lips when to my surprise she drops it and grasps the sides of her face. She pulls, oh jesus, she pulls. Flesh tears, skin breaks away. So much raw meat remains on her frame crawling with insects. Lumpy white things crawl in and out of her. Feasting, supping on her being.
"Please, make it stop dear."
"I can't, I can't do this."
"Oh, you can, they want to taste you, feel you."
"Please, stop..."
"No, that can't happen, they already know, she knows and you'll know too."