"Flee," the raven whispered to the boy. "Before it's too late."
"Be brave," the dragon said in his other ear.
Saturday, February 26, 2011
Friday, February 25, 2011
On the other side of that oddly un-assuming door was a dining hall that very much made up for it. It was as long across as a city block, and the table that sat in the center of the hall extended nearly the entire length. It was covered with ornate candelabras, shining silverware and expensive china, fourteen places down either side, and one at each end. At each place along the table there was a solid wood chair with a tall back, and all up and down they were carved with images of monsters devouring children and demons torturing them, and phantoms sucking their souls out. As the boy approached the chair closest to him, he could make out more of the terrible details engraved in the dark ancient wood. He leaned in to examine the horrible art and it made him uneasy.
Wednesday, February 23, 2011
He climbed lower, slower, deeper into the depths of the old dying dark house. The stairs spiraled counter-clockwise downward and were very steep. Every ten steps or so, there was a torch mounted on the wall that feebly flickered a weak orange glow, but they all seemed to have given up trying to keep the shadows at bay centuries ago. The boy went down, down, down. Spiralling into the depths of the house. He wished to leave the staircase, but there were no doors, no windows, no escape. Only the hope that there was a bottom, and that the bottom wasn't worse than the top.
Monday, February 21, 2011
The feet of the boy's pajamas shuffled silently across the deep grey rug. The painted eyes that lined the walls seemed to follow the boy as he walked past them, and he felt like he was shrinking. He set his eyes on the end of the hallway that he walked toward, but it seemed to be moving ever farther from where he was.