Make Belief Studios ~

November 24, 2007

chapter 04

Filed under: 01 Into the Hive, Gilded Providence, Story, WIP — Tags: , , , , — Saturday @ 12:02 pm

I blinked twice. Checked three times. But I couldn’t figure it out. It seemed… nothing was holding the equipment in place. They just seemed to floated there, resting straight against the wall but never touching the ground.

With an “L” shaped palm I laid my index finger against one of the axe handles. Hesitation. I cautiously applied pressure towards the axe. Nothing. I pushed against the axe. Nada. I repeatedly thrust my palm against the handle, grunting with each shove. I hurt my wrist. Taking a step back, I rubbed the soreness from my hand and looked over the tall, bony axe. Somehow, all these pieces were firmly fitted against the wall and refused to budge.

This must have been the day of realizations because I had just noticed one more thing. This room only had one door. The one which had closed behind me. The one which had upon its back a rather large vampire-ish looking skull with a handle grip dripping from its mouth and five various length scythe-like blades bursting from its bone-carved hair. The skin of my forehead tightened. This room had the same warm, enticing, glow (maybe even more so) as the rest of the house, but something about being closed in a room surrounded by floating murder tools sent a sudden chill up my spine.

I’ve had enough of this room. Aiming for the door’s knob, just to the left of the vampire skull’s smallest fang, I closed my eyes and reached for it. I know I’m a wimp, but the largest weapon I’ve ever been in contact with is a kitchen knife and the knives here obviously weren’t meant for use with food.

Rock-like texture dragged against the back of my hand as I turned the knob. Teeth pinched together, I pulled the door towards me and jumped through! The door closed and I shuddered, forcing the skull’s stagnant glare to become a shaky memory. I wouldn’t have minded looking around more. Some of the armor was artistically attractive, but I’m not that “in” to violence or its fashions, as you can tell. I shuddered again and exited the empty room.

“Food.” The thought passed through my mind once again. I still hadn’t found that storage room. Where could it have been?
Ding! Ding!
Underneath the staircase a narrow door seemed to chime at me.
How did I miss that?
I shook my head then walked over to the door. With my arm extended, the door began to shake as if in fear of me.
What the-?

No. The door wasn’t shaking. I was shaking. No, everything was shaking! The glass panels on the windows jittered, soot and ash shot out of the fireplace as the flames whipped through the air violently, sending vivid orange red reflections across the polished floor! I shrieked and fell to my knees, my body felt like it was molding in with the vibrating of the floor. A pounding buzz, which sounded like dozens of whistle-blowing trains played in high speed forced its way through the house! I wrapped my arms around my head and laid straight on my face!

What’s going on?! What’s happening?! I DON’T UNDERSTAND!!

The whole experience was disorienting. The shaking of the house drove deep into my skin and made me feel numb all over. I could hardly tell whether or not I was still on the floor. The stairs screeched, I heard wooden plates and bowls hit the floor in the kitchen. Outside birds were calling and one by one all these things seemed to blur together. A headache had started in my temples and was getting stronger as all the sensations were absorbed into it. Then, suddenly it subsided. My eyes felt swollen and I could only assume that I had closed them. All the commotion seemed to swirl above, slowly becoming a shadow that was blanketing me, thick and heavy. It was so overwhelming it was almost lulling me to a forced sleep, then it stopped.

Nothing was shaking. Nothing was shrieking. My eyes were opened. Maybe I never closed them. The lashings of the fireplace soon quieted and flickered normally. It was as if nothing had happened, but I felt cold and damp from sweat. I slowly picked up my upper body off the floor and looked toward the last unexplored door. There was a silence outside and a ringing in my ears. My arms still shook. I laid back down and stared at the roof. I couldn’t even force myself to move.

I was lying there for a long time. Staring at the ceiling. Staring at the back of my eyelids. Staring at the doorway above my head. I was scared that if I moved that “thing” would start again.
What was that “thing”? What just happened?

It felt like I had woken up from a dream. Slowly hunger pains, once again, started to build up on me and brought me back to reality. Trudgedly I picked myself up and looked over at the door which I assumed was the storage room. I quickly decided against opening it and staggered for the kitchen.

Grabbing the match book, I lit one and threw it towards the center of the table. The cauldron was on its side at the other end of the room. I picked up a bowl off the floor and headed for the bucket of left over stew Tremarch had filled the night before. I scooped some out and tossed the bowl after the match. Half of the stew splashed onto the lightly lit coals. A couple moments wait, the coals had brightened directly beneath the bowl.
As I thought. None of the wood in this place burns… This place is getting kind of creepy.

Hunched over the table with my fingers dangling in its center, absorbing the subtle heat rising from the coals. My mind blanked, but I could feel coldness surrounding me. The house was too quiet. That earthquake… thing, had spooked me good! I was scared and suddenly aware of how alone I was, on my own, in a stranger’s house. I wanted to leave and runaway, but to what? I already was on the runaway! It’s no surprise that strange things happen, but is this how I was going to deal with it?
I’ve been away from home for months. How is it that now I decide to feel so insecure?
I guess I had never had something worry me so much as that event, then. My own limitations hit me like a brick and there was nothing I could do but lay down and cry.

I rested my head against the insides of my elbows until the smell of spilled stew starting to burn registered in my brain. I lifted my head and looked. The stew on the coals was bubbling and a thin, dark thread of smoke seeped up from it. Grabbing a fuzzy towel off a counter top, I pulled the bowl out from the middle of the table. It didn’t even smell of fire.

There was a dirty fork already on the table. I wiped it with a fold from my dress, stabbed a piece of meat and dragged it through my teeth. Nothing I could do but take care of the small things. The meat was still cold. I followed it with a potato and continued to pick the chunks out of the bowl.

I was getting cramps— might have been my nerves. I thought about going to my room but an icy shiver in my ribs made me forget the thought. Who knew what could have been waiting for me? Pushing the sloppy bowl out of the way, I rested my head again. I didn’t fall asleep until I moved to the floor and stared at the glowing coals beneath the table.


1 Comment »

  1. Interesting progression here. I will read more later. I do have some questions about certain events, though. I’ll have to email you about it later, if you don’t mind. For now, I am off! :3 Good job!

    Comment by Syreth — January 5, 2008 @ 12:56 pm

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