This is a suggestion game. Sometimes CYOA if I think multiple choice is more fitting at the moment.
Make a suggestion of what to do or +1 the suggestion of another person. If we tie, I'll flip a coin or decide some other random way.
You are adrift in warmth. Floating, senses dull and mind foggy. It is comfortable here in this soft darkness and you are very tired. It feels like this is all that ever has been or ever will be. Soft things brush against you and you gasp, surprised by the sensation, and inhale fluid.
You jerk up into a sitting position, coughing violently, trying to get the thick fluids out of your throat. They're in your nose too and the sensation is terrible; you cough and blow your nose, eyes screwed shut. When you try to open your eyes you feel a thick crust crumble off your eyelids and lashes. The world is blurry for a few seconds, just darkness and strange hazy lights before things come into focus. You are naked, sitting in an old style bathtub. The tub is completely filled with blood and viscera, partially dried and frozen, a thick sludge of black coagulation and rusty powder. The tub is sitting in a bathroom, next to a window. The window is broken and outside light from a nearby building's windows provides the only illumination in an otherwise pitch dark night. Fat, slow snowflakes drift down from the black sky and glint as they cross into the light. Dull yellow illuminates the apparently abandoned room, everything dusty, broken, vandalized or decayed; a long counter with two sinks and a large sheet mirror sit on the side of the room opposite you. One of the sinks is smashed, as is most of the mirror, but the other sink and a section of mirror near it are still intact. The room smells overwhelmingly of mildew, dust, and what is probably the metallic tinge of blood. Next to the tub, standing perfectly still, is a human skeleton. Its arms are bent at the elbow and it is patiently holding what looks like a stack of clothing, towels and a note like some sort of loyal butler. It appears perfectly clean and bleached, like the anatomical skeleton you'd expect to see in a classroom, and how its joints and parts are remaining together you can't tell.
For some reason nothing about this frightens you, though you get the distinct feeling it should.
You look at the skeleton and notice something else about it. Sitting in its chest, pinned to the back vertebra via a thin nail, is a heart. Not a human one, you think. Maybe the heart of a pig or a cow? You're not sure why you think that, but it feels right. And from that heart you can make out something more. At first you mistake it for some sort of veil of very thin material or even a cobweb. It is so thin and ephemeral that you doubt your eyes at first but...it is there. You trace its form with your eyes. Shimmers of it lead upwards and you follow them with your eyes. Just above the skeleton's head the shimmer spreads out. It is as thin and translucent as the stuff around the heart, but it stretches unbroken across the entire length and breadth of the room. It flows and ripples slightly, like the surface of a lake seen from under the water. You realize suddenly that the heart is pulling this surface down to it, like a metal ball pulling down and forming a pocket in a cloth sheet.
Besides the sloshing of the fluids in the tub and your breathing, everything is silent.
Author
Topic: The Left-Hand Path (Read 118802 times)