An Old House pt. 3
This is a new passage, mostly stairs, moving endlessly in any direction. I take the underside of the stairs that lead up to a further unknown, dark and at once foreboding and alluring. I make my way along this upside-down, winding staircase, and I suddenly find myself, not in a room, but another corridor, startlingly strait and though probably a normal size, very wide in comparison to what I had previously been proceeding through. The stairs disappear behind me, and this new corridor stretches out infinitely into the darkness before me. The walls on either side are lined with doors, and each one presents me with multi-verses of opportunities, and I find myself unable to move forward. I’m perplexed and at a loss, for any sense of purpose I had has now lost itself somewhere behind one of these doors. I stand dumbstruck, and the existential dread begins to creep through the shadows, sending tendrils into my body that make their way through my being, suffocating gently. This dread consumes me with new thoughts and feelings of stagnancy. I lose myself to it, and leave this world, leaving a husk, which I may someday find my way back to.
An Old House pt. 2
I circle and observe the people, and take note of the interesting social customs as well as the true natures of those who are left to themselves or their respective partners. I make my way, finally, into a side door to a kitchen, lit and welcoming, warm from the crisp, misty chill outside. There are about five or six people, toasting to each other silently, laughing and eating their cakes in a far away world from my own. I take a bit of cake for myself, and savour it as I continue on into the darker corridor of the few I could choose. It snakes labyrinthine through impossible turns seemingly between the walls of other rooms.
I then find myself in a small, personal library, a number of bookshelves lining the walls with old leather binding and gold leaf gilding. It smells of ancient paper and timeless ink, of hot brandy and heavy tobacco, and of leather and wool. I take a moment to just appreciate what I have found here. This is someone’s heart, manifest in a room, hidden away from those who lack the knowledge to find it. It is a sanctuary, as sacred to this person as the old stones in the fields or the small shrines in the woods. This is hallowed ground, and I stand in awe and respect for what to some might just seem like some dusty old room, decaying, cobwebbed, and pointless. After my moment of silent respect and prayer, I move on through one of the bookshelves that swings open slowly to accept me further into this houses depths.
An Old House pt. 1
This house was old, grand, and had the air of an ancient aristocracy, attractive and yet wholly and totally debased. It was a house of many secrets; it almost seemed to hold more corridors and rooms than the outside looked like it could contain.
I wandered the grounds first, invisible to the fancy dress party-goers, the men in old smoking jackets, the women in gallant yet modest dresses, treading lightly over the gravel pathways between old beds of rose thorns and beautifully overgrown wild shrubs. The moonlight’s pale blue aura is pierced in some places by the warm golden light spilling out from most of the windows, playing dancing shadows out over the thick grasses on the lawns. I eye each of the windows, curious as to what could be in the spotted few that remained unlit. There isn’t another building for miles, and the grounds stretch on for forever, out into the dark and inviting forest. I don’t think I could cover all that, though I do want to. Still, my focus remains on the house, looming into the night sky, its silhouette shaggy with ivy.
Indispensable Writing Tips From Famous Authors
Let me tell you somethin chummy. When your spirit is floating down that tunnel towards the light, you know what’s behind the light? It’s not God. It’s me. and I’m gonna kick your poncy soul all the way back down the tunnel ‘til you choke on your own fucked up ribs. Now, wake the fuck up!
n. a relationship or friendship that you can’t get out of your head, which you thought had faded long ago but is still somehow alive and unfinished, like an abandoned campsite whose smoldering embers still have the power to start a forest fire.
Stay in one place your whole life. Always order vanilla even though the menu is four pages long. Become the type of person who sends back lattes. Save up your money for a plasma TV instead of a plane ticket. Talk a lot about things you know nothing about. Have an affair with someone you don’t…