Current Residence: Belgium
Favourite genre of music: Eclectic
Favourite style of art: Whatever strikes my fancy
Operating System: Windows 7
Personal Quote: Being an artist is like living in a constant state of blessed insanity.
10. OneShe learned an important lesson, in that one final moment.10. One by ~Sister-to-the-Queen
Canaries could scream.
9. TwoDown down down as fast as legs will go turn turn carpet wood stone wall behind forcing to go on on on down stumbling falling hurting bleeding darkness leaking into veins cold so cold so quiet so still slowing down down down and9. Two by ~Sister-to-the-Queen
8. ThreeIn the hallway. Back to the door. Stare into the growing darkness. Round and round it goes.8. Three by ~Sister-to-the-Queen
Half of the hallway, starting from the stairs, is already gone. The doors of the bedroom and, nearer, the bathroom, are bulging outward, into the hallway.
Something's oozing from under the bathroom door and leaking out of the keyhole. The screws are being forced out.
The crank breaks off.
The torch dies.
The doors burst.
The walls groan in the darkness.
Open the door.
7. FourSixteen carpeted steps, soft under her bare feet.7. Four by ~Sister-to-the-Queen
Sixteen wooden steps, splintery under her bare feet.
Sixteen stone steps, cold under her bare feet.
White wallpaper. Wooden panelling. Stone.
Her feet refused to stop walking, even though she was beating and clawing at her legs.
With one of the blows, her torch flickered.
She turned and ran. She turned and tried to run, and it was like wading through waist-high water. She tried to scream, but all that came out were gasps.
Before her was the light of her torch. Behind and beneath, there was the darkness.
Turn, turn, turn. Stone wood carpet turn glass corridor the door.