Glancing beyond the threatening warning of the imbedded spear, Jeremy
could see the metal grating give way to a cavernous nothing where the
living room used to be, although, with the house's infernal restructuring
it was difficult to be certain. With only one path clear, Jeremy headed
towards what ought to have been the dining room.
His face still tight with anguish forced a few tears to drip down into the emptiness below. "No sorrow could ever fill this place," he thought through the noise of his raw nerves. Once again he was walking on the questionable solidity of the metal grating, his wholly unreasonable mild fear of heights perfectly logical in light of this predicament. A fall might very well never end. Thoughts of the metal buckling swarmed his thoughts, swelling his fears, but he pressed on and down the elongated hallway till he approached a set of double swinging doors.
Like the doors often found separating wait-staff and patrons at a restaurant these doors were large and of pressed aluminum, though their metal surface was jagged with the cuts of an eternity's worth of blades. Etched marks with no meaning marred the surface and the hinges were black with dirty oil, but the door still swung easily enough when pressed. Jeremy entered into the room with his shotgun ready, feeling a bit calmer with the instrument at hand.
The floor resembled the grooved solid metal floors found in certain construction areas, only crusty with fat and gristle that crunched under foot as he stepped inside. Vaulting high beyond sight the ceiling remained out of view, though four chains extended from that blackness to hold the corners of a straight metal slab and waist level; two light bulbs also dangled on thin wires, swaying in some unseen demon's breath.
Welding scars crept like centipedes across the slab's surface as if some manic artist had sought to punish the metal like some turbulent prisoner. Sharing the surface was a full table set, curiously immaculate save for its archaic patterns and a carved silver platter resting beside a dingy name card reading simply "Jeremy."
Paranoia had already begun to creep about his mind; the unseen threats of this place had chipped away enough of common civility, leaving only exceptional caution. As such Jeremy readily passed over the silver covering, in an effort to avoid potential gruesome sights or biting death. Though, as he thought more of the platter while examining the room the possibility of being caught unaware from behind nudged its way forward. Holding the pistol tightly he nudged the covering off with the pistol.
Bright light blinded him, dazzling his widened eyes and in the confusion he let loose a shot towards where he thought the platter was. Then his eyes blinked back the light, revealing a small utility flashlight. Its light reflected off the shiny silver surface, illuminating the dismal walls in faint white light. Clipping it to his belt, he tested it, swishing his body back and forth, throwing the light around the room. Looking around again Jeremy was thankful for the lack of any "food" present on the table. The light fell upon the heavy steel door to the kitchen and he paused.
Just what sort of things might have happened to the kitchen he wondered? The possibilities were sickening, but with nowhere left to go he readied himself to push forward.
The door did not swing easily; its rusty hinges protested in an aching wail. Jeremy gave pause with the door only half open worried the screech may stir other horrors still stalking this nightmare. He peered through the crack, blackness, and then slipped himself through, letting the door swing ominously quietly behind him.
His face still tight with anguish forced a few tears to drip down into the emptiness below. "No sorrow could ever fill this place," he thought through the noise of his raw nerves. Once again he was walking on the questionable solidity of the metal grating, his wholly unreasonable mild fear of heights perfectly logical in light of this predicament. A fall might very well never end. Thoughts of the metal buckling swarmed his thoughts, swelling his fears, but he pressed on and down the elongated hallway till he approached a set of double swinging doors.
Like the doors often found separating wait-staff and patrons at a restaurant these doors were large and of pressed aluminum, though their metal surface was jagged with the cuts of an eternity's worth of blades. Etched marks with no meaning marred the surface and the hinges were black with dirty oil, but the door still swung easily enough when pressed. Jeremy entered into the room with his shotgun ready, feeling a bit calmer with the instrument at hand.
The floor resembled the grooved solid metal floors found in certain construction areas, only crusty with fat and gristle that crunched under foot as he stepped inside. Vaulting high beyond sight the ceiling remained out of view, though four chains extended from that blackness to hold the corners of a straight metal slab and waist level; two light bulbs also dangled on thin wires, swaying in some unseen demon's breath.
Welding scars crept like centipedes across the slab's surface as if some manic artist had sought to punish the metal like some turbulent prisoner. Sharing the surface was a full table set, curiously immaculate save for its archaic patterns and a carved silver platter resting beside a dingy name card reading simply "Jeremy."
Paranoia had already begun to creep about his mind; the unseen threats of this place had chipped away enough of common civility, leaving only exceptional caution. As such Jeremy readily passed over the silver covering, in an effort to avoid potential gruesome sights or biting death. Though, as he thought more of the platter while examining the room the possibility of being caught unaware from behind nudged its way forward. Holding the pistol tightly he nudged the covering off with the pistol.
Bright light blinded him, dazzling his widened eyes and in the confusion he let loose a shot towards where he thought the platter was. Then his eyes blinked back the light, revealing a small utility flashlight. Its light reflected off the shiny silver surface, illuminating the dismal walls in faint white light. Clipping it to his belt, he tested it, swishing his body back and forth, throwing the light around the room. Looking around again Jeremy was thankful for the lack of any "food" present on the table. The light fell upon the heavy steel door to the kitchen and he paused.
Just what sort of things might have happened to the kitchen he wondered? The possibilities were sickening, but with nowhere left to go he readied himself to push forward.
The door did not swing easily; its rusty hinges protested in an aching wail. Jeremy gave pause with the door only half open worried the screech may stir other horrors still stalking this nightmare. He peered through the crack, blackness, and then slipped himself through, letting the door swing ominously quietly behind him.