Click, Click, Click
Creek.
Old, dark, smelling of ink.
Creaking floor boards and rotting walls.
Dim lights, Locked doors
"Dreams come true" spelled on the wall.
Nightmares are dreams too.
Old machine, Low pressure
Empty chest, Empty eyes.
"Who's laughing now"
Cardboard cutouts moving around.
Pressure restored, ink covered floors
Boarded up door
Falling down
Lies from friends
Axe in hand.
Next Chapter.