魔の時「００１」
[ It's quiet. Very quiet. The past few days have been tiring, a stark contrast to the night. The sky, for once, appears clear. The house seems almost peaceful.
It's 2:59 A.M.
The spiritual activity over the last week has been almost brutal, finding a new ghost around each corner. The number of aggressive encounters increasing with each hour. It makes the current night feel eerie in comparison, but the peace is a welcome reprieve. Everyone deserves the time to sleep.
But there's no rest for the wicked.
It's 3:00 A.M.
The fire in the hearth room blows out.
Old boards creak with new life, slowly arranging themselves back in the proper position. Torn shouji seems to fall flat and pristine, any tears repaired in midair. Doors sit properly in place, stairs reinforced. Shattered ceilings and debris-filled hallways return to the glory of nearly a century before.
For a moment, the entire estate looks like it appeared out of a fairy tale, perfectly preserved and beautiful.
It's 3:01 A.M.
The main house rumbles.
New candles are lit on their own, illuminating the freshly cleaned rooms from the dark of the early morning. The faint sound of a koto being played in the distance can be heard, only to be interrupted by the sound of long finger nails scraping against the floorboards just outside. There's a scream at the end of the hall, something that reaches more than one tone at once. Wallpaper begins to peel ever so slightly, revealing an almost muscle-like structure, as if the house itself is alive and beating. Blood drips from between the panels of the ceiling; dark, old blood.
Something is burning. But it's not the house.
A spirit passes through the room. It's form, nearly solid, every detailed filled in. Her kimono is elegant but tattered, her eyes are missing, strands of blood permanently staining her skin.
And she is not the only one.
It's 3:02 A.M.
Welcome to the Devil's Hour. ]
It's 2:59 A.M.
The spiritual activity over the last week has been almost brutal, finding a new ghost around each corner. The number of aggressive encounters increasing with each hour. It makes the current night feel eerie in comparison, but the peace is a welcome reprieve. Everyone deserves the time to sleep.
But there's no rest for the wicked.
It's 3:00 A.M.
The fire in the hearth room blows out.
Old boards creak with new life, slowly arranging themselves back in the proper position. Torn shouji seems to fall flat and pristine, any tears repaired in midair. Doors sit properly in place, stairs reinforced. Shattered ceilings and debris-filled hallways return to the glory of nearly a century before.
For a moment, the entire estate looks like it appeared out of a fairy tale, perfectly preserved and beautiful.
It's 3:01 A.M.
The main house rumbles.
New candles are lit on their own, illuminating the freshly cleaned rooms from the dark of the early morning. The faint sound of a koto being played in the distance can be heard, only to be interrupted by the sound of long finger nails scraping against the floorboards just outside. There's a scream at the end of the hall, something that reaches more than one tone at once. Wallpaper begins to peel ever so slightly, revealing an almost muscle-like structure, as if the house itself is alive and beating. Blood drips from between the panels of the ceiling; dark, old blood.
Something is burning. But it's not the house.
A spirit passes through the room. It's form, nearly solid, every detailed filled in. Her kimono is elegant but tattered, her eyes are missing, strands of blood permanently staining her skin.
And she is not the only one.
It's 3:02 A.M.
Welcome to the Devil's Hour. ]