The herbs that once grew in the garden had long since withered away, enveloped by thorny bush. The shingled roof had several gaps in it, the wooden panels rotten and splitting apart. A single gravestone had been consumed by weeds, and the words that had been etched into its surface were worn away. Rusted hinges screeched as he pushed the door open. Paint was chipping off the walls, cobwebs stretched like silk drapes over the furniture, dust carpeted everything. Something scuttled past him in the darkness. There, a sole flickering light coming through a doorway.
It was an office, shelves of thick texts lining the ceiling, cabinets below containing alphabetized files, a miniature pharmacy, and equipment. Anatomical charts were plastered over every inch of bare space. A half-melted, vanilla-scented candle has placed on a tray by the operating table in the center of the room. It bathed the area in a smoky golden haze. The door creaked shut behind him. There was a light prick at his neck. Everything faded away.
When he came to, he found himself gagged and strapped to a different operating table, rows of bodies on either side. A living skeleton laid two tables away on his left, its sunken eyes fixated on the match within its bony grasp, its lips moving wordlessly. Although it was caked from head to toe in several layers of grime and sweat. Underneath it all, he could still make out the off-white shade of its coat. After what felt like several hours, it finally got up, stretching its neck out with a sickening crack, and silently moved towards him.
"Florence suffered from weisses blut. It had already progressed to its final stage when she came to me, all those years ago," she murmured lightly, running her free hand across the arms that dangled limply over the edges of the table directly next to him.
"Poor little thing, she was, bruised all over. I did what I could for her," she continued, gently skimming fingers over the doll's permanently upturned lips. She leaned in closer, a faint smile stretching over her features.
"Now she lives on for eternity, here, where I can protect her from the injustices this world inflicts upon her. I've saved her, and so many others." She reached up and caressed his face gently for a moment, her nails biting into his cheek. "Yet this is what I get,"
"Why?!" she rasped. He could feel his nerves screaming as her claws raked across his forehead, but he did not flinch. Sweat beaded down the back if his neck and he could barely keep his eyes from fluttering shut, even as she shouted into his ears.
"The truth is that," she paused, her pupils dilating as she tracked the scarlet droplets trickling down from the gash by his temple, "We both know the answer." He felt her breath ghosting over the side of his face as she stepped back again, her bangs shadowing her expression.
"I should thank you, but..." she drifted off wistfully, backing away again before extinguishing the match.
"You shouldn't have come here now..." she sighed, pulling the crumpled sheet back over the doll. Slowly, she turned back around to face him again, and pressed several matches together with a small red book into his hands.
There was a flash of silver, followed by roses blossoming from her chest and abdominal region. She drove the blade deep into her flesh, twisting it to create gaping mouths from which sticky crimson tongues gushed forth. Her papery skin parted easily, allowing bone to glisten through, the tattered remains of her coat waving their surrender. The scalpel slid from her grasp, clattering against the floor.
It all burned. The rope, the house, the corpses, the book, all swallowed up by roaring flames. In the end, his dreams flaked away just as her body had, simply more ash scattering with the breeze.