The way the blue tinted moon light bounced around the old rotted wooden room, revealing the years of torture this house must have went through. The clear night sky clutched itself around the warmth of the light so bright off the rock in the sky, “Come on….what are you stuck on” carl says he takes a moment to gather his breathe as he hunches over before walking over to the other end of the large bag, taking one hand and lifting it ever so slight seeing there is a nail underneath now covered in a thick red liquid with a tangled up strands of hair. He takes his lead back at the starting point and continues to pull until he reaches a black door and uses his foot to kick it open; forgetting that his cubbyhole was on the other side, it slams into it “oops” he says as he laughs to himself. Quickly pulling it into the room, just to as quickly dart back out locking it instantly like a hint of muscle memory was there. Carl paces his way around the room surveying out of the boarded-up windows, letting his face hit the side of the window only slightly letting the moons light touch his face. He pulls a pack of cigarettes out of his coat pocket, “no no this couldn’t be his last pack” he thinks to himself and worse of all his last smoke. He grunts growing slowly irritated flicking the empty pack box into the cold fireplace. The sound it lands is a reshuffle of what can only be described as an avalanche of plastic just collectively falling one after another. The table in front of him holding a jar with a label on it titled “Fairies tears”.
As he puffed on his cigarette, letting the smoke be the mirror that wasn’t there. Transparent for the light to seep through it was beautiful, dancing, formless becoming like water in a cup. He takes one last drag from the cig before flicking it into the fireplace immediately catching it on fire and burning up whatever was left over inside, as it illuminated the room it was easier to see the old rotten wood that was running rampit all over the place. He rubs his eyes as he sighs deeply, not the normal sigh of just being tired but you could here the stress waver on his voice, he grips the door to the black room, opening it then closing it shut behind. The sounds from behind the door would leave even the most sinister men with a unsettled face and quite squeamish, the rugged sound of metal scrapping back and forth against something solid, as the time of night passed the fire goes from a raging tower to a small fairy, gripping onto life with the destruction of the last piece of unscathed piece of paper which quickly go up in flames.
As the sound of the grinding stops, the black door swings open. The street light from outside making him a mirror image of the iconic front cover of “The Thing”, his presents were veil and distortion cloaking the room in a thick suffocation of depression and disillusion. As he stumbles out of the room, the black door slams shut but not the normal shut from a door designed to reclose rather like a slamming of force, like someone or something was actually in that room. He sees tints of orange that at first, he thought were from the fire before looking over and realizing that the flame is all but died out and only embers where left in the place of everything in the fire place including the thick logs of wood at the bottom. Regardless he makes his way in front of it, there sat a single Candle. Wait….a candle he says not recalling how it got there to begin with. It was black but not your normal black, it cast no reflection from the embers burning in the fireplace, he notices it doesn’t seem to have a shadow either or was it that it was getting to dark in here again and he would have to restart the fire rather he shrugs it and continues to walk over the candle and trying to light it but nothing. As he stood there flickering with his Bic lighter the wix would not light no matter how long he let the flame sit on top of the candle, even the wax wasn’t melting. A light bulb goes off in his head he quickly snaps his head around look for it, when “Ah ha” he shouts out loud. A large hunters blade sitting on a broken table which was clearly missing two of its support legs all while still some how finding namaste to keep balance.
The slick and sharp sides of the blade, make him pick it up with precaution he stands over the candle once again and cuts into the palm of his hand, letting his blood waterfall over the candle as the wick on it burst into flames, he retracts his hand from above. With the flame corrupting into a thick black smoke, gathering into the. It was her, her with the deer skull mask. He could not quite make out it was her not with her transparent body causing him to squint, she reaches out, he leans forward, his cheek touches her hand it rest there as her arm solidifies and the thick black oil covering her skin dripped from her hand to his cheek. “Sweet Darnabet” as he looks up, she removes the deer mask revealing a face of a decrepit old woman. He jumps back in shock, horrified as he could have sworn she was a beautiful young woman, her hand was just soft to the touch, sticky and slimy but soft none the less, he lets out a yell as he stumbles backwards leaning heavy on the table. Frozen, her leg twitches out of the smoke in front of him not believing his eyes as the rest of her body follows out of the smoke.
The oil on her skin dripping off onto the floor, she twitches and slumps her way over to him. His mind racing; he looks at the door knowing its only inches away, his heart racing, trying to think, looking back at the door, she’s closer now, still frozen, his legs wouldn’t listen, he couldn’t even feel his toes. She was to his nose now, he looked at the door as the decayed, grey hair woman was on top of him, her boney arms forcing themselves around him as her saggy skin rested on his. As he looks into her eyes he couldn’t help but see the void of how sunken they were with her leaning in he tried to resist, her will was unimaginable, indescribable to mere humans but it could be felt with such intensity that you could explode. As she kisses him, he becomes overwhelmed with a feeling to give in. He begins to feel a liquid pour into his mouth; opening his eyes he comes to the realization that he is choke, hell drowning even but on what he did not know with his lungs filling up and him too weak to fight her off, his vision begins to fade to black passing out.
The ray of sun shine hitting his face make him squint his eyes had, he rubs them before lifting himself up in the bed. Looking around at the room “Damn nightmares” He chuckles to himself, the bright light making everything appear blinding in appearance he always hated where those desk his father left him had been placed but it’s what his fiancée wanted, she said it would give the room character. He laughs a little out louder to himself, he looks to his right hearing the shower running, how long was she in there for? Did he just not notice, stopping shy to cut himself some slack since he had just woken up. Getting up and walking over to her window to close the curtain to his room, over looking a massive backyard with his kids playing outside causing him to grin turning his attention to the sun for a moment his eyes turn black “What a beautiful day” the reflection on the glass was from her, wrapping her arms around him looking over the after noon sky.
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