Dead Tree Scrapbook- Inquisition
There's a dying room where an old cage is bleeding red rust all over, and the old meat-hooks keep swinging back and forth with no wind to help them. What were once cream-colored tiles have given way to years of grime, and all but one flickering light stopped illuminating them long ago. There's a chair, or part of one, and it sits in front of the cage, keeping watch in case the inside comes out. And it will come out. It's been waiting since before the room was made, before it was even in the cage. It remembers who put it there. It remembers the ones who condemned it to Hell.
The bars of the cage crumble away easily with their age, and something emerges...