Uncurable

The crust of my eyelids started to break as I woke from a deep unconsciousness. My thoughts slowly sharpened and I pieced a few things together from the blurry mess I was experiencing. "This isn't my bed. This isn't my room. Who just walked out of the room and closed the door before I could see them. Why were they watching me sleep. Why am I [[here?|Wakeup2]]".

The heavy press of fear that came with these thoughts started to [[set in|Wakeup3]] as I grew more conscious. I looked around the room and saw old black and white photos of people I didn't recognise and a clock that worked with a slightly off pace. The very air of this room felt unwelcoming and staled with age. The window to my left cast a pale, late afternoon sunlight that in any other situation I would enjoy seeing. The room smelled faintly bitter, like dandelion pollen or battery acid.

I started to get out of the bed, wishfully thinking there was some misunderstanding. I felt my bones creak and my muscles groan from the movement. My body felt tight and unpracticed at moving. I knew I must have been asleep for a long time. When I turned my attention to the door on my right, I shuddered. I heard footsteps just outside walking to the left, and while I lowered my gaze I saw, for just a second, the shadow of someone's foot take its last visible step from the bottom of the [[door]].

After seeing that my breathing got heavy. The gravity of this situation was making itself more and more clear with each passing moment. The thoughts spiraled around in my head "Why am I here? How long has it been since I got here? Who WAS that? Why were they here? Who- am I?.. ... That last thought really puzzled me. I tried again to remember anything, my name, people I knew, but there was nothing. "Why can't I remember this I'm... ... I don't know." Then my head started to [[hurt]], and I saw the ground jump up to catch my face.

When I woke up next I wasn't laying flat. Half my body was lying limp on the floor, the other was twisted to the ground, still on the bed. I felt concussed. I looked to the window to see that there wasn't sunlight coming through the cutains anymore. I was passed out till nightime. The room no longer smelled like anything but dust. I pulled myself up, gathered all the mental fortitude I could, and took carful [[inventory]] of my situation.

I couldn't remember why I was here. I knew someone was in my room and that they left when they saw me wake up. I knew my name was ~Lilith Grant.~ Finally I knew no matter what, my main goal was to [[leave]].

I got out of the bed with much more ease than the last time and slowly walked to the door. I listened closely for any movement outside and heard nothing. With a great deal of courage I pushed the door open. It was a rather narrow hallway witht the same withering age as the bedroom. It smelled like decomposing, wood, and the whole hallway had only about half of it's lights working. The rest were burnt out or flickering. To the left, the hallway stretched on and opened to a railed wooden staircase. To the right, there was dead end with a bookcase that had most of it's books on the ground, torn apart. I'm sure Mister Wight would have explained this to you already but I must ask, what would you do? I will follow. Did I go [[left]]? Or [[right]]?

I walked down the left side of the hallway, knowing that it was where the person in the bedroom had gone. When I got to the railing I saw that it overlooked a great foyer with nice furniture, a bar, a roll piano and a double door on the far side. The lightly curved staircase led to the grand lower floor. The hallway had another room at the end of it that looked like it was in great disrepair. Did I walk further down the [[hallway|farther]]? Or did I go down the [[staircase]] to the foyer?

I walked to the right. The hallway ended in a bookcase with only 3 books on it. "Local fauna", "The Arts and Their Preservatives" and a photo book were on resting on the same shelf. "Local Fauna" was the only book that didn't have any dust on it. Did I [[read]] the book on local fauna? Did I [[read|read2]] the book on the arts? Did I [[read|read3]] the photo book? Did I [[look around]] the dead end for anything else? Or did I walk back the other [[way|left]]?

I picked up the book and started reading the back to see what it was about. "Want to learn with an expert about the local fauna of the Pawn region? This book includes the insights and research of one Professor Adamska Kranken, the father of medicinal fungus." There was a photo of the professor next to it. He looked older, and he had large glasses. My attention was unhooked from the book because the hall started smelling bitter, like the bedrooom did before. Did I keep [[reading]]? Did I inspect the rest of the [[hallway|look around]]? Or did I turn around and go the [[other way|left]]?

Looking more closely at the end of the hall there was something different about the wall to my left. It looked ..newer. It had less dust on it and the paint wasn't chipping. I took an even closer look at the seems of the wall and noticed a hinge through one of the cracks. It was a door without a handle disguised as a wall. I smelled more of the bedroom's bitterness near the door. Did I look for a way to open the [[door|ohno]]. Or did I leave for the other side of the [[hall|left]].

I felt arround the edge of the hidden door and found a small rope. Suddenly the bitter smell got stonger, and the door creaked open on it's own. I felt like I made a most painful and euphoric [[mistake]]. I wasn't in a house. I was layed down on a hill There was a beautiful blue sky tonight, and I was watching a comet go by. There was a face the size of the sun way off in the distance, but I paid it no mind. Then I closed my eyes and felt the ground gently catch my head in a beatiful slumber like it had once before. I didn't need to worry. There was nothing to worry about.

(align:"==>")+(box:"=X")[[[How do you like being numb. Your mind a tangle. Your muscles a loose net of ropes. It's quite the numbness isn't it? You think yourself so noble. Like you won't die the way any other animal does. Or the forest won't take you all the same. You're just as wild and base as any beast And you will bend all the same to something stronger than you. Something stronger than both of us. Something uncurable.|Wakeup]]] At least you will feel some relief in this. I hope you like a nice blue sky. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=h03eH51rsuM

I kept reading, "Join us as we walk you through safety when handling plants and fungus in Pawn. What's safe to eat and what helps with various ailments. Whether on land or in lakes learn all about the plants and fungus of the diverse corner of the world you love." I felt the book more carefully in my hand and felt that there was a bookmark. I opened it to the mark and saw the marked [[page]].

The page read "Dead man's fingers, (Xylaria Polymorpha) Danger: Harmless Description: These fungus grow near the beds of fallen beechwood trees and mats of moss. They are adept at spreading spores. They turn blue when spreading happens, spores are characterrized by a bitter smell. Not generally edible." The bookmark itself had some writing in it. "DANGER! DO NOT TOUCH!". Just then I heard the wall to my left creak like a door. I looked up to see a dark open room that was hidden in the wall. Someone was standing [[there|mistake2]], in the darkness. Then I felt my senses steadily leave my body.

(align:"<==")+(box:"=X")[[[You found it. Congratulations Now what will you do. Well, everyones waiting. You ARE an expert aren't you? Not as easy as it looks, is it? You invade my space and break not just my home but my legacy. I will make sure you suffer the same. I will break your mind and your will. And I will despise every moment I have to do it.|Wakeup]]] https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6A5yJ5Z2Ezw

I continued past the staircase and went further down the hallway. White paint was chipping off parts of the door. The handle was resting loosely in a hole that was rotten down with the weight of it's metal. Did I open the [[door|extrabed]]? Or did I go back to the [[staircase]]?

I made my way down the staircase and took in the gradeur of the now mansion-like building. When I got to the bottom of the stairs it was like I had moved from someone's family home to a fancy hotel. The furniture was of a good quality and the decoration was older but stylish. The floor was littred with what looked like golden confetti. The luster of each piece looked tarnished with age. The front door was only a few meters away, but my assured march towards it was halted. I heard a sound coming from behind me. The sound of someone snoring violently. I turned around to see what it was. There was a fortified wooden door behind the staircase that was slightly open. Did I go to the [[front door|frontdoor]]? Or did I go to [[the door|basement]] making the strange noise?

The handle barely held together as the rig turned. The door creaked open and the room was bathed in light for what seemed like the first time in ages. It was a bedroom with a sagging single bed and a grayed side table. There was a lamp on the side table but the cable was cut. Every piece of furniture was covered in half a centimeter of dust. No one had been in here for a long while. Did I look in the [[drawers]] of the side table? Did I look [[at|under]] the bed? Or did I leave for the [[staircase]]?

The drawer opened and dust scattered throught the air. There was only one thing in there. A photo of an old man sitting next to a bedridden elderly woman holding her hand, in this very room. It must have been taken when this house was lived in. The bed was well set and comfortable and the lamp was bright. I looked around the room now and tried to understand why I ended up here, an ancient house, seemingly abandoned. Then I choked on my next breath. The dust in the air suddenly turned mat and sour. Did I leave the room for the [[staircase]]? Or did I check [[under|under2]] the bed?

I walked over to the bed and inspected the covers for anything useful. Nothing was hidden in the bed.. I kneeled down to see if there was anything underneath it. My eyes took a moment to adjust to the dark, but when they did did I gasped. I choked and hacked on the sour dust, only made worse by the realization of what I saw there. I saw a corpse of an old woman laying under the bed. It looked like she was put there for at least a year. Her skin was rotting, but strangely the room did not smell. I couldn't handle being the the same room as something like that for any amount of time, so I bolted out of the [[room|interlude]] and closed what little of the door was left.

I decided that I needed to investigate further before looking for anyone. I carefully kneeled down and lowered my head to get a view of what was under the bed. It took a few seconds for my eyes to adjust to the darkness. [[...]]

(align:"<==")+(box:"=X")[[[I haven't seen her in ages. I never wanted to see her again. I can't picture her face. I left that room alone for a reason. You are making it easier to stomach what I must do to you, and no amount of begging or talking will ever change what I have to do You have to stay here. This house needs to stay closed.|Wakeup]]] https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6A5yJ5Z2Ezw

When my eyes adjusted I saw a dehydrated, aged, corpse with the same frizzled hair as the woman in the photo. My shock was amplified by thumping footsteps running down the hall before the door was shut. I got up with my heart pounding and ran to open the door. Then I experienced the most fear I ever had in my life. There was a bloodshot enraged eye watching me through the seam of the door. The room filled with a bitter smelling powdery dust. I started to choke. I tugged and pulled with my dying breaths at the door but nothing worked. It didn't [[budge]].

After seeing that I realized that there was no way I could stay in this house for any longer than I needed to. Someone had already died in this house. I needed to leave. Looking out over the balcony again I saw the front door. With a renewed sense of determination to leave I descended the [[staircase]] to the foyer.

I grabbed the handle and tried to open the door. To my relief it turned without any resistance or failure. I felt a euphoric relief when the door started opening. My breath hastened and my spine relaxed. The nightmare was finally over. Then the door stopped opening. I pushed it again and it stopped again at the same spot. I looked through the narrow opening and saw the door was chained on the other side with a [[padlock]].

(align:"=><=")[Good, good I can do stories. But which one to tell? The one about the river giant who ate hundreds of villagers? Or maybe the one about the man who obsessively built his house into a veritable labyrinth to avoid the ire of those he wronged? Not interested? I know, I will tell you the tragedy of 2 people who encountered something they didn't understand. People who were rudely awakened to the fact that the world may not be entirely owned by animals. Now, knowlegeable as I am, I don't know everything. You might need to fill in the blanks, if you want your ravenous curiosity satisfied. I'll bet you can do it too, I see the aptitude for this sort of thing in your eyes. Are you ready?] [[yes|ready?]] [[no|wait]]

(align:"=><=")[Very good. Now do you want to start with the prologue of our story? The story of a man who was unfortunate enough to see the start of [[something terrible]]? Or do you want to see it's morbid conclusion [[first hand]]?]

(align:"=><=")[How bold of you. You might be missing pieces of the story by starting here. Knowing you though, you might just know them already. If you know what is right, you might just be able to change how this story ends. Now have a seat, and let me tell you about a woman who unknowingly walked into the depths of madness itself. Hush now. She's about to [[wake up.|Wakeup]]]

My name is ~Martin Ramsay.~ I worked at the Happy's Farm processing facility up on Pawn hill for about 3 years. The Happy's facility was built a long time ago when the farmers of Pawn learned that their cattle lacked nutrients when raised on Pawn land. The facility, which was truly just a slaughterhouse, was supposed to allow for the processing and selling of beef from neighbouring regions to the town. It was built far out in the forest, secretively, because Happy's didn't want to lose favor with its customers by openly selling non-local product. I worked in small office just above the loading zone. The pay for my job was quite good ,but the work itself ranged from boring to saddening. I had to oversee the unoading and recording of cattle to ensure they were a there and propery fed. I had gotten so sick of the smell and the sounds that I started listening to music when there was nothing to do. It helped calm my nerves. Every week, there was a new [[load of bulls]].

I liked the opportunity that working at Happy's posed, I was getting paid well, but I didn't want to work here forever. I wanted to visit my mother in Scotland, even if it was just once. It had been years since I ast saw her and my letters took a while to make it there. I was saving up for the boat ride, but it would take quite some time with the expense of living here. In my wait I was yearning for[[ something new]]. I suppose I got what I wanted, if only I had ben more specific in my wishes.

I was lost in thoughts when my manager Amanda called down to me "Martin! We have new load coming in. They look hungry already, can you feed them right when they settle in?" "Aye Amanda!" I yelled back. The bulls were unloaded from a rusted metal truck. A few workers came down to the main floor and helped the truck drivers lead the muscular bulls into their pens. The main floor was on a slightly lower plane than my office, so i had to take the stairs. It was long and had 15 pens on each side. Sometimes looking down the rows of their faces induced a little vertigo. I stepped downstairs and observed the [[new batch of cattle.]]

The new bulls looked... different. They had deeply clipped horns and they were whisper quiet when moving. No cries, no jittering, no protest, they were all still and compliant when they were moved. Some of them seemed to walk with a slight dip in their steps. I thought they were just tired. The truck drivers and framhands left, and argued about something I couldn't quite hear. When they closed the door I started to pour some grain into their food buckets. While I did I heard a hefty thud behind me. Like a plastic bag full of water being dropped. I looked behind me and saw nothing out of the ordinary, so I continued. When I circled back to the pen I saw something quite peculiar. Something deep red was on the floor under the cow. It looked like a balloon covered in red dye. Then my heart sank with realization. I got down low and checked its belly. (text-rotate-y:332)+(text-rotate-z:3)[ It was a gaping red chasm filled with [[maggots.]]]

I quickly ran back up to my office and threw up in the waste basket. As I recovered I dialed Amanda's extension on the office phone "Amanda, there's.. (text-rotate-x:36)[*hurk*] we have a problem. One of the bulls is injured (text-rotate-x:36)[*huff*] it's dying it's it's full of maggots. We'll need to call disposal." "Okay Martin I'll be down in a second, take it easy, don't go to the main floor till I check it out." She hung up the phone and I dropped into my chair, sweat pouring down my face. When the shock settled down I was completely drained of [[energy.]]

When Amanda got to the main floor she found the bull collapsed in a murky red puddle, dead. I swore up and down it was alive when I saw it and that something had fallen out of it's stomach. With the amount of maggots she saw in it and the way the innards were spilling out, she believed me. I had heard of maggots getting to livestock alive before, but still I thought it was odd. Normally bulls would get fussy when things like that happened, or they would at least lie down before dying. They weren't the smartest creatures but they knew when they were being eaten. That one was as [[silent as any I had ever seen.]]

Later that night the body was hauled out of the pen. The other cattle stayed dead quiet while it happened. Nearing the end of my shift, I started listening to some classical music on the casette tape I made. I wanted to relieve some of the days stress. During the bombastic 3rd movement of moonlight sonata something tore my attention away. I paused the music and heard a stangely human moaning noise coming from the main floor. Almost like the sound of a child crying but deeper and more desperate. I walked down to the pens and turned on my flashlight. All the bulls were asleep, but something had changed. There was a faint light in the room that wasn't there normally. I angled my flashlight upward and saw that the loading dock's [[door was open.]]

I went over to the door to check if anyone was causing trouble. After a few passes with my flashlight, I figured one of the workers must have left it open, but when I started to close the door I heard the droning cry again. This time it was clearer and it chilled my whole body. It was the voice of a woman but it felt strained and hurt. I pointed my flashlight to it's direction and I saw a figure walking deeper into the woods. The way they walked made it look like they had a broken bone. Each step was wobbly and unsure like they were missing a toe or were just in serious pain. While I was thouroughly scared I was also greatly concerned. The figure looked like Amanda. [[She was supposed to have left hours ago.]]

I hurriedly ascended the stairs to my office and dialed 911. Whoever that was they looked like they needed help, and I didn't want to risk anything myself getting put in a similar condition. "Hello 911 what is your emergency" "Hello I just saw someone who seemed gravely injured in the forest behind the Happy's farmhouse on Pawn hill. " "Can you give me the nearest address?" "Yes it's 867 Grayson road, please hurry I'll need an ambulance." "We'll be there with police and an ambulance, please reamin calm and do not move." [[*Click*]]

When the call ended I debated following the advice of the operator, but instead I returned to main floor just in case she came back in. While waiting, I was shaking from the cold and the fear gripping at my nerves. I thought to myself "Amanda was here only hours ago. What happened?" [[If only I knew how bad things were about to get]].

After a torturous amount of time nervously standing at the door I decided I should wait for the ambulance to try and help her. I climbed up the stairs again dragging my feet over each threshold and right before I got through the door I heard thumping and rustling on the main floor. I thought that maybe Amanda had come back inside. I let myself feel some relief in this. I paced down the stairs again, thinking this night's terrifying events were over, and then I turned on the lights The scene I saw on that floor was nothing short of absolute chaos. The cattle were slamming themselves into the sides of their pens. The bulls clipped horns were scratching the shine off the metal surounding them. They were chewing the plastic paint off the concrete walls behind them, breaking their teeth in the process. Some of them had even gotten out of their pens and ran through the open loading door, some of them had starting fighting each other with such an intensity that they were biting at the exposed bellies of the bulls who had fallen over. The room was echoing with loud animal screams and squeals. All the while there was a thin puddle of runny, dull colored blood steadily spreading from under [[all of them]], covering the main floor wall to wall in an intense coat of red.

The adrenaline kicked in hard after seeing that, so I slammed the door shut and bolted all the locks as quickly as I could. I ran up to the control panel I normally never touched and hit the button to close and lock the loading door and the exit to my office. I stared at the control panel for a while, stuck on what it was I just saw. My eyes started to water and I dropped the floor. After a few minutes I passed out from the [[exaustion.]]

When the ambulance and police arrived the cattle were all dead or missing from the main floor. The whole building was mirred in the stench of blood, and even the first responders retched at the sight of what had happened. I told the police everything and they began a hasty search for Amanda and the other bulls in the woods. After some questioning by the paramedics I was shuttled to the hospital to see if I had gotten any kind of infection from the cattle. On first inspection the doctors told me there was nothing out of the ordinary, but that they needed to keep me a few days to make sure nothing developped when I [[returned home.]]

As I stayed at the hospital, I rested and processed what I saw that night. I had never seen any animal act as fearful or violent as those bulls had. That pool of blood spreading from beneath all of them kept flashing in my head. Sometimes I felt like I saw blood spreading from under the door to my room.. That image haunted my dreams every night I stayed at the hospital. The days seemed to tumble by, and all my thinking and oversleeping gave me headaches. After only 2 days the passage of time felt strange, my second day there felt like a memory I had already lived, and deja-vu became common when hearing the doctors talk to me. Then [[something peculiar]] happened on my third day in the hospital.

The doctor came to my room in a white surgical mask and brought in a graph of a brain scan. I thought this was peculiar because I didn't remember having a brain scan in the 3 days I had been there. She gestured to the image and told me with a shockingly anguished voice, "I'm sorry Martin, a week ago when the results came in we weren't sure then but now, I... I can't believe I have to tell you this [[I'm sorry."|revealer]] I wasn't at the hospital for 3 days.

[https://prod-images-static.radiopaedia.org/images/17610176/265872499d5882fa7ebfd71a8e787f_big_gallery.jpeg] [https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Io9MPyXE2K0] After seeing the brain scan and hearing what she told me my thoughts straigtened out into only a few words. I will always remember those words. "[[My head hurts]] Where am I? I miss you so much.

(align:"=><=")[Quite the tragic tale is is not? Thankfully poor Martin never had to see what happened next. You however want the truth. Am I right? For that truth I'm afraid you will need to experience the rest of this story yourself. Now let's get started. This one's about a woman who stumbled on the remains of an aged mansion and uncovered something that could end the entire world. Her tale may not need to end so sadly though. Maybe all she needs is some wise guidance. Hush now. She's about to [[wake up.|Wakeup]]]

(align:"=><=")[Hello... This is quite strange... I don't usually receive visitors. [[My name is ~Mister Wight~|Greeting]] https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sOO5pjd6d4k]

(align:"=><=")[Don't care for stories eh? But how will entertain such a noble guest for such a long time? ... Oh, I know! I think I will give you a song. I have practiced this one for quite a while. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wIZcXz471lk We both have a lot of time on our hands, so I hope you enjoy.] ("A nice long visit." Ending)

(align:"=><=")[It is good to have you, but why would you chose to come here? There are so many better places to be, and I wasn't expecting to entertain a guest. You seem like you're looking for something. What are you trying to find here? ... How about a story? I promise you I'm a good storyteller.] [[yes|Choice]] [[no|n]]

(align:"=><=")[That's okay. You can tell me when you're ready. I have more than enough time and patience to wait.] [[ready|ready?]]

I read the back of the book called "The arts and their preservatives". "Do you know how it is that we record our stories as a species? We preserve them of course. We grip and hold tight our cultures and our arts, but what keeps them here when we inevitably leave this earth? What promises us that all our writings and hard work won't be overwritten by some tragedy or even a nasty war? I am writing to inform people who ask these questions of the many ways art is preserved in our society beyond even the control of governemnts." After reading this passage I had a thought gently slide into my head like a sheet of paper. "You are an artist, in a way. Aren't you Jackson?" At the time I didn't really know what my mind was telling me. Who was Jackson? I didn't remember. [[I put the book back on the shelf.|rightoption]]

I opened the photo book and saw there was only one photo and a series of newspaper clippings. The photo showed a crowd of people posing for a photo with an older man in the center. He was wearing large glasses and had a happy expression on his face. There was a banner drapped above all of them that said "Happy Retirement". The newspaper clippings were mostly a series of headlines hastily cut and glued without much rhyme or reason, they said. "Happy's farms denies involvement in-- (it cut off from there) "Happy's Slaughterhouse to be demolished, left untouched since it's accident." The last one looked significantly newer than the,others. "Doctor Adamska Kranken, beloved professor of Pawn University, buys haunted house. Says "I enjoy the adventure of it."" I thought it was a stange thing to keep compiled. [[I continued to look around the bookcase.|rightoption]]

The bookcase had only 3 books on it. "Local fauna", "The Arts and Their Preservatives" and a photo book were on resting on the same shelf. "Local Fauna" was the only book that didn't have any dust on it. Did I [[read]] the book on local fauna? Did I [[read|read2]] the book on the arts? Did I [[read|read3]] the photo book? Did I [[look around]] the dead end for anything else? Or did I walk back the other [[way|left]]?

I ripped open the door and started pinching the chain with the jaws of the bolt cutters. It broke with ease and I slammed the door open. A powerful gust of crisp wind washed over me like a wave on a beach. All the uncertainty, all the fear I needed to feel in the walls of that house might as well have never existed. No more dead bodies in closets, no more photos, no more things I couldn't understand and no more guilt for the things I had forgotten. The driveway and walking paths around the house were overgrown with waist high weeds, but I couldn't care less. I stomped over them further and further away. The cool air of the outdoors felt like a hug compared to the musk of the house. I sensed a slightly bitter aftertaste when it left my mouth, but my euphoria could not be silenced by such frivolty. I looked all around me and saw the lights of the city down the hill. I took each step like my life depended on it. I felt like I was flying. I wanted the lights closer. I wanted to be wrapped in familiar lights, sounds, buildings and people again, but just when my foot was going to land on solid ground again I felt something wet on my upper lip. I felt at my face and found a streak of red was on my hand. I stopped my hurried descent down the hill and felt the sticky fluid on my hand. It was blood. [[Then I felt my head start to ache again.|Conclusion1]] https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wlJ-s92H57g

(align:"=><=")[A wise choice, starting from the start. Now have a seat, and I will tell you the sotry of a man who slaved away in the [[slaughter house]] nested on the tallest hill of a great forest. A work performed begrudgingly in service of his desire to return home. I hope I can keep it together for this one. Let us begin.]

I decided to go towards the mysterious sound, maybe someone still lived in this house and maybe that someone could help me. I pushed open the door and it creaked loudly, like every door in this house. The light from the main floor rushed in to show me where the sound was coming from. It was an old wooden staircase leading to the basement. There was a small streak of paint the led down the stairs. I heard the sound again with the door fully open. It was like a snore, but it sounded too deperate. It sounded like someone was choking in their sleep. Did I go [[down the stairs]] to see who it was? Or did I close the door and explore the [[foyer]] more thouroughly?

I decided to explore around the foyer to see if I could find anything to open the front door. I checked the tables and drawers of all the fine, antique furniture, but all I found were old maps, matchbooks, glasses and bottles with the faint smell of alcohol lingering in them. Then when I checked near the piano something about the house clicked for me. A realization. I looked back at the room I was in and noticed a few odd changes. The dim flickering yellow lights of the house turned orange and warm, like fire. The confetti on the ground was shining gold again, and a beautiful man in a black and white suit was walking down the polished, spiraling staircase with a king-like grace. This was no decrepid mansion. How was I such a fool to not see that? This was a place of hospitability and class, one built for reveling and joy. When the man reached the main floor he looked directly in my eyes and gave a deep bow. I presented my hand to him and he shook it with a gentle yet respectable grip. Then he pointed to my seat, a luxurious clean leather chair. Of course he was going to play for me. He sat at the roll piano and extended his fingers in a manner one could only call professional. I thought to myself "How could someone as sharp as myself be fooled by dim lights and some dust. This was my home after all. Why would I want to try and leave." As the man played his face melted into concentration and euphoria, Nothing could make this moment better. If only the man still had hands, and if only he didn't [[smell so bitter.]]

I carefully took the steps deeper and deeper into the narrow concrete maw of the stairs. When I got to the bottom I felt very confused. The basement was a rectangular room of concrete that looked stangely empty. It looked like someone had moved out recently. There was a metal closet, a work table with some labeled bottles strewn about and a lecture stand with a journal on it. I stood there for a few moments wondering why it felt like something had already changed about this room. Then it hit me, there was no longer any noise, no snoring, not even breathing, but there was something very faint at the back of the room. Almost like the sound of a leaking pipe. Did I check the [[bottles]] on the table? Did I look at the [[journal]]? Or did I check the [[closet]] at the back?

The heart crushing sorrow I felt in the bedroom came back, flooding into me. There was no leaving this house. I looked back at the staircase to see the door behind it. A strange noise, once again, emenated from it's frame. A snore like someone was desperately mimicking sleep. Maybe, just maybe, someone would be able to help me out of here. Did I go to investigate the [[door|basement]]? Or did I explore the [[foyer]] more thouroughly?

I hope you enjoyed it. Really, I do. I have felt absolute chaos for so long. I have known what I needed to do. Nothing could happen to make me feel again. But to play for someone. That, I simply cannot turn down. I always wanted to be merciful about it, really. [[I just wish I had fingers to do it right.|Wakeup]] https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WmAZoexenx8&list=PLkmKyRH2R1J2Q820FyGCZVPAuz-8eO4mU&index=151

I went to the back of the room to check the metal closet. When I got close the very faint sound made itself aparent in the silence. Dripping. Something was dripping out of the closet. I checked the floor and saw a small red puddle slowly spreading from the corner of the door with a thin trail that lead to the bottom of the stairs. I wanted to go back upstairs but my concern for what had happened overtook me. I slid open the metal door and saw a man bent down on the floor of the closet with matted tuff of hair and [[blood on his head]].

I decided to check the journal to see if there was any useful information in it. The first page read: "Entry : 1 Today I found a most peculiar place on my walk to the top of Pawn Hill. There was an old abandoned building that I had never seen on any map of the forests. The walls were all metal and any of the signs that were posted had withered away with the elements. Exploring around I found a big open room, torn in half by a downed tree, and on it a few wonderful Dead Mans Fingers. They were in bloom, way before their season so I decided to pick a few and store them in a plastic bag. I will be keeping this journal to document my research on the peculiar blooming. I expect to record any findings in future entries." [[Next page.|journal2]].

I checked the bottles on the table first to see why they were the only things left. The labels read "Paracetamol, Palm Oil, Acetamide, Witch Hazel" After picking up one of the bottles I saw a small black book labeled "Recipes". I opened it and read the titles of each recipe: -Painkillers (dye them) -Cold Medication -Anti Histamine -Disinfectant -Throat Losenge (test before selling) -Sedative On the last page it read. "This book is property of Jackson Falx please contact 705 095 4458." I turned the book over and was shocked to see what was written on the back. There, in my handwriting was an address and a message "346 Grayson road Pawn, March 15th, don't be late." I wrote that address. I came to this house. That man Jackson came with me. I turned the book over again and again thinking I had imagined the writing but each time I was met with the truth. My mind felt like a burst damn after reading this. I remembered climbing through a window to enter. I remembered the box of chemicals I unloaded from the van. I remembered seeing this house and thinking it was would make for a good lab, because no one in town knew about it. I put down the notebook and looked around the room. It was familiar now, I knew the layout of this house the whole time, but something was wrong about the basement. [[The metal closet in the back was closed now.|closet]]

"Entry : 2 After taking a few shavings off the tip of the mushroom I found a shockingly low amount of flanges on the inside. It must be very young, yet it's reproducing rapidly. It looks to have been feeding on that tree for ages. It's expelling spore so agressively for such an underdevelopped fungus. I hypothesize it must have had to adapt to only living on one tree, due to it being in an environment without wind spreading it's offspring. It's agressive reproduction must have been to spread throughout its small habitat to make the most of it's limited food. One unanswered question I hope to figure out is how it manages to make such an adaptation in the lifespan of a decomposing tree. It had to have evolved rapidly for such a young looking fungus. This is becoming so much more than a personal project to keep me busy. I will see if I can borrow the microscope from the university to give a more thourough inspection." [[Next page.|journal3]]

"Entry : 3 Using the university microscope has revealed some strange properties in the cells of this mushroom. Some of the cells look more like an animal than a typical Dead Mans Finger. These might be microbes infecting it as they still seem to be alive even on a dead mushroom. This has left me to wonder if the early blooms are being caused by this durabe little microbe. From now on I will be careful to keep it in its glass case to avoid any dangerous exposure to it. I am going to ask some of my colleagues for some books on microbes and cells to see if any of them can identify this curious little thing. My next entry may be late as Martha may need surgery. I hope she recovers soon." [[[Next page.|journal4]]

"Entry : 4 I cannot believe what I have stumbed on. The microbes in this fungus are not microbes at all. These are the living cells of a mammal. A mammal with a nasty infection. The fungs is a chimera. https://www.virology.ws/wp-content/uploads/2012/04/spongiform-300x224.png The clusters appear spongy and loose like they are missing protein but it's almost like grey matter. At this moment I have no idea what this could mean, but I hope to research what condition could cause such a damaged appearance. Then I will have to focus my efforts to discover what lead the fungus to adapt into such a chimera." [[Next Page.|journal5]]

"Entry : ---- I was a damned fool. A fungus with the cells of a mammal? I should have been cautious with this monster from the start. I fear this is the last entry I will be able to write. Martha has been ill since March and I feel like the walls are closing in on me. One second I will be outside looking at the sky and the next i will be standing in the basement looking at a wall. I once even heard the piano play without anyone touching it, and the smell is so stingingly insufferable now. We are both infected, and given what I know about this fungus I cannot let it spread any further. I am going to burn all the lab equipment I used to handle it and seal off the house for good. I wrote a letter to the university to tell them I am moving out and the house is off limits. I hope this will dissuade anyone from coming here. If this gets out I'm not sure anything could stop it, and the symptoms are too terrible to let spread under any circumstance. I still have the decorative gun in the extra bedroom, but it only has the powder for one shot. I don't know if my hands are steady enough to do it. Martha said I should use it, but I can't fathom leaving her here to die like this. I brought this blight home. I will have to suffer the consequences. She doesn't deserve this terror. If anyone finds this message we should both be in the extra bedroom. Please bury--" (The note was cut off, and there was a few dried watermarks on the page near the end.) [[Next page.|journal6]]

https://cdn.creazilla.com/vectors/7871395/scribble-background-vector-xl.png Some volatile fungus had seemingly killed the residents of this house, and I... I didn't want to think about what this meant. I sat in silence to consider my options, and came to the conclusion that for now I should focus on escaping. Did I look at the [[closet]]? Or the [[bottles]] on the table?

I steadily closed the door, not wanting to look for longer than I needed to. With the trail of blood and the state he was in I knew this man had fallen down the stairs, but I still didn't know why he was put in the closet. My questions were quickly dropped when I heard the door to the basement open. Someone was rushing downstairs and they were standing on the other side of the room before I could even turn to see them. When I turned to see who it was, my eyes were met with a dreadfully decrepid man. He had dull skin, that rotted off in patches, and he was dressed in damaged colorless clothes. His lips were shrunk and he had only a few teeth left visible in his mouth. His arms ended in cones of exposed muscle, like his hands simply dripped off leaving stalactites. His eyes were jet black with streaks of white, like quartz marbles. His head had only a few strands of frizzled hair hanging from it. I would have been utterly terrified if not for what he said next (align:"<==")+(box:"=X")[["Hello y-oung lady. Can I help you? You look so distreth-ed. Are you lo-f-t."|newbegining]]

His appearance made him look almost dead, but his demeanor seemed so genuine I was taken aback. My throat was still tense with shock so I only managed to choke out a few words, "Who are you? I-Is this your house?" The man looked confused. His eyes darted around the room scanning everything. When he looked at the metal closet, what was left of his face lit up a little and he said in a much clearer voice, "Dear oh dear, thank you for reminding me. I almost forgot what I was doing here. I guess you've seen it then. The blood on these stairs the locks on the door and your own meddling entrance. Oh it doesn't matter now though does it." The man was speaking so clearly now it was hard to believe he had even struggled speaking earlier. "I used to think I was holding back some grand disaster by closing this house, but time breaks everything doesn't it. No matter my efforts." He began slowly moving towards me as he spoke, each word drilled into me with a renewed more focused intent. "I sacrifice everything, absolutely EVERYTHING just to keep the doors of this house shut, and what do you do? You come through a window. Well I have just the solution for you. I can't bear doing this any longer." The man was close now, I cold see every feature on his face and it was hard to not picture him as an upright corpse. He reached out towards me with his rotted arm. I was paralyzed, my mind was screaming at me to run or to push him over, yet nothing happened. I braved myself for the worst, closing my eyes and taking a deep breath, but his arm went past me. He reached behind the metal closet and felt for something. When he pulled his arm out a hidden set of bolt cutters got knocked over from behind the closet. His face visibly lost it's anger and he turned away. His speech continued with more strain than last time, "You want to leave, don't you? There is your ticket out of here. You may be completely ignorant to what leaving this house means, but I am in no condition to stop you. I have had to suffer this burden for long enough. I wish I could keep enduring for the sake of everyone, but it is clear I cannot reason with you. You want to live." The man walked over to the stairwell and pointed at it like and usher with his forarm. I picked up the bolt cutters and walked up to the [[foyer|time to chose]] one last time.

When I reached the first floor I looked at the bolt cutters in my hand. I thought about what he had told me. I thought about everything I had seen in here. All the fear, all the suffering, the uncertainty. I took a deep breath and with all these considerations I made one final choice. Did I cut the chain on the front door and [[leave|Ending 1]] this dreadful house? Or did I decide I needed to [[stay a little longer]]?

I dropped the bolt cutters to the ground, and collapsed into one of the dusty chairs. Everything that happened this night was frightening and stressful, but there was something unique about what I felt now. I knew I was going to die in this house. It felt like being underwater with no way to resurface. When I thought I was about to break down, I heard the basement door open. The decrepid man had come up to the foyer and he looked at me with something I hadn't seen in his eyes before. Sadness and understanding. I wordlessly understood his plight as we locked eyes. He turned his attention to the piano and sat down at it to play. Even without hands he played a peaceful tune. Then I decided I should close my eyes a little. Afterall, [[I earned some sleep.|Conclusion2]] https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Eg6a9YA9YEs

(align:"=><=")[Oh no, no, no. It seems I might have a few more visitors than usual after an ending like that. You did what you could with what you knew, I'm sure. Then again you might just enjoy seeing the world burn. Either way that is the end of our story. Now if you'll excuse me I have a lot of work to do.] ("Freedom63" Ending.)

(align:"=><=")[What a performance. Lilith really was quite the hero, don't you think? You may not know what you have done, but I congratulate you none the less. Shall I show you to your resting place? I'm sure you must be very tired after listening for so long. When you are ready I will tell you another story.] ("Sacrifice" Ending)