I awoke with a start, the icy granite digging into my back as it had for who knows how long. The mist of sleep and weary dreams quickly left the focus of my attention. I recognized this place, but only as much as it was like all things I remembered, darkness was unchanging and the fibrous black scarred my retinas. It was a haze all its own, but something was different. Visions began swimming in Atlas’s mind, I could remember the diner and that man.
“Layla!” I shouted blindly into the dark without so much of an echo returning to greet me. She disappeared without a trace, I remembered it so clearly, but the circumstances surrounding those moments were curiously fogged. ‘Was I even there?’ I thought to myself as I struggled against the chains and shackles latched to my forearms and ankles.
“You boy.” A dried and calloused voice sprung from the darkness. I froze, Ice water shot through my veins and my whole body became as still as the air.
“Don’t be afraid, I am just as immobilized as you are.” Unmistakably this was an older man’s voice accompanied by a rattle of metal against metal that rung through the air.
“Who are you?” I asked quietly. The answer was slow, but eventually it came in the form of a question.
“Would it make a difference to us? This place is as solid as a fortress and I imagine we will become a part of it soon enough.” The man’s voice reeked of a hopeless despair. I was still weary of the man and his voice; it wasn’t the same as the man in the diner, but the memory of his features faded with every passing moment. I had gotten an answer to my question, although it was my own desperation that crawled through the logic of my cage.
“My name is Atlas.” I said as confidently as I could, or at least I imagined it to be. The man scoffed and shifted against the rugged stone and its tentacles.
“Bullshit.” I didn’t expect this, not even remotely.
“What the fuck do you mean?” My patience drew its thinnest line yet, an imaginary line in the sand. I wondered if he would dare cross it.
“That boy is dead, and he has been at every turn. Every lead I had in finding Atlas with what little information I had to go on. I may be a doctor and an occult expert, but I am not a moron. So you think you can sit there and pretend you are that dead fucking kid…” the man’s voice was no doubt angry and hateful towards me, but he lost his traction and returned to hopelessness of these shadows.
“Go ahead. We are trapped in here.” He finished.
After hearing that speech, I laid my head against the stone. I wasn’t comfortable in any sense of the word, but it did give me time to think. ‘How did I get here?’ and ‘why am I alive’ swirled endlessly as I brought a flow of tears onto myself. Sleep was out of the question as I fiddled the rustic lock on the cuffs of my shackles. One after the other they popped, Although I had no knowledge of how these worked, it was easy enough to pry them off my wrist. They clattered to the ground where I waited to hear my “cellmate” verbally lash at me again. When the air became still again with nothing more than my shaky breathing, I patted against the wall for any sign of a door. I began circling the room in search of the smallest crack in the stonework. The room was entirely solid, until I felt the cold and flaking rust of metal protruding from the wall. I felt intently for the end of the chain, but when I felt the soft give of flesh I knew I had gone too far. I heard his breathing now as clear as ever. The man was asleep and despite his enormous form, he didn’t snore. I knew that being big didn’t always mean they snored in their sleep, but it was the case for his father and Uncle. A dark thought streamed through my mind like a spark of breath taking electricity, he remembered the letter his father sent to him what felt like days ago about the passing of his grandfather that took both Melissa and Al with him. He sprung backwards as that thought also sparked something in the room. An orange light sprung into the room for a second; the light wasn’t enough to look for the door, but it was enough to see the features of the man.
His eyes were not unlike the waitress from that diner, but there was more. A seeping black ooze came from in between the granite’s microscopic cracks. It formed a sloppy lace of tendrals piercing the skin of the man. He stirred once again as if he was waking from a pleasant dream, the clothes of the man were a semi-formal suit and a long and shiny chain protruded from his vest pocket. The man was certainly old and gray, but the areas around the puncture wound seemed twice as wrinkled. I reached for the chain and snatched it from his pocket before the light suddenly flicked out. It was no more than a handful of moments of light, but still the darkness became untamed once again in my eyes. Retreating to the farthest corner of the cell to examine the object. It was a watch, ancient and rough with tarnish as I ran my finger along every contour for the silver. When I pushed the button to open the watch, I wasn’t met with the glass surface that should have been there instead. It was open and deep. A small flicker of light came from the inside of the watch. I watched in amazement as the watch’s face came to light before me. It was like a tv or a peephole, but my curiosity got the better of me and I poked my fingers through the watch. I felt like I was falling, falling for ages, but soon enough. I was in a place I was sure I had never been. In the place around me, stood great stone walls and a spring in the distance following the path. I heard the flow of water and felt the coolness of the misty spray permeating the air. I had never felt so at peace when I felt my feet moving forward without my permission.
“Are you coming honey?” An unfamiliar voice came from my lips as I heard the stampede of feet patting against the dusted trail. Three small children ranging from 4-8 rushed past me, they shrieked in excitement before jumping in the spring; following the small children was a woman roughly middle aged. Judging from the smile plastered on her face and the glow of happiness in her eyes, she loved the man before her. Again my feet marched to the spring and when I peered over the water, a different face greeted me. It was beyond resemblance at this point, it was obvious that this body was the man in the room. After a few minutes of being trapped in the memory playing with the children and occasionally sneaking a kiss from who I assumed was his wife, It eventually faded to darkness and I was met with the same granite, but now the man was awake once again, and room was lit with the fury of orange flame coming from a large brazier. The man spoke without anger in his voice, but sadness and panic were now in control.
“Where is it?” He said frantically and repeatedly. Despair sought sympathy. It was obvious that the man couldn’t see me as I approached and dropped the watch in his lap. Suddenly he lunged for the watch and cradled it in his hand.
“Where are you thief?” The man said with accusation brimming from his voice.
“Do you miss them?” I said, hoping he would drop his guard and finally speak.
“I did once, but being a doctor. Nobody cares how you are doing and what you can do for them.”
The room’s light flickered slightly as if a breeze struck for a moment.
“Listen, something is going on and it is obvious we are stuck.” I took a minute to consider my words, he thought it was still dark. I knew he couldn’t see, but I decided not to reveal my advantage. “What is going on?”
The man’s face lost every shred of color as he spoke, it felt like hours as he relayed the information of a man with a silver raven pinned to his collar of a red suit, how he was offered a job in Texas about a mysterious place named Sinn House, and how the house was haunted by a spirit. The first response was a surprise along with the third, but Sinn house being a mysterious place was the biggest shock of all.
“I know the Mansion. I basically grew up there with my family.” The man silenced himself and swiveled his head to survey the room.
“He is coming, he knows we are awake.” Tears flooded his eyes before he tried to push himself as deeply as he could into the corner. His arms wrapped around his knees as his body curled into a fetal position.
“Who is he? We can take him.” I said, but in vain as I heard the stone slithering over the stone. The sound gave me goosebumps, although what followed shattered my perception of reality. Whimpering could be heard from the corner now as my body faced away from it. I stared at the shadows that formed from the dying light of the smokeless fire and from it came the crackling of splintering glass.
Sleep.
A soft voice permeated and echoed in my mind, it was the voice of unimaginable timbre and cadence. It was as smooth as a stream of blood against marble. The insight invaded my mind’s eye just as quickly as I succumbed to restful slumber and when I awoke within the dream it was as if I never recalled that place. Forgotten in the smog of lost places.
“Wake up, breakfast is ready.” I heard the rough and congested of Al’s morning voice coming from behind the highly decorated door of my room. Last night was the longest time I had slept in weeks, what with school now a site of abandonment, at least for after the holidays. I rose from the creaking well worn mattress of my teenage years, and dusted the headphones I wasn’t allowed to use during the weekdays, but now I didn’t care and neither did anyone else in this house. What was a grueling walk to the kitchen when I was little, felt like nothing now that I finally grew during the school year. In a few days, I will be fourteen years old and ironically a new year will be just the thing I need. Despite going back to that school for a few more months, most of my friends were older than me by at least a year or more. It wasn’t something I worried about daily, but it was something that concerned me due to the fact they would go to a new school entirely. Leaving me behind for a year. My tired body rose from the cheap silkiness of cotton and to the cool varnished wood of my bedroom floor. The feeling always shook my waking mind although it was ineffective against the personality waking within. Donning a tank top and sweatpants to the kitchen, with an MP3 player in hand blasting the classic rock and metal of my father’s former interest. The hallways ahead were still shrouded in darkness, Uncle Al didn’t care to turn on the light switch at the end of the hallway. Normally this didn’t bother me, but today carried the first chill of winter. East Texas almost never got snow, but the frost was the one thing that made most folks turn on a heater, at least for the early morning. It was this that made my father finally decide to sell the house in Utah and move in, rather than commute for the summer. His career wasn’t anything to scoff at, but when he told me that we would be here full time about two years ago.
The sickly sweet scent of imitation maple syrup was a shock when I stepped into the kitchen. I gagged at the thought of consuming that on pancakes or waffles. It was one of the only dishes Uncle Al could make with any succession since Melissa was Indisposed with her mother’s growing ailments. He should have offered to go with her, but I remember that night and the shouting match between the two. For normal people this wasn’t an issue, but we are far from normal. Anne was still out there, after all these years, in those woods. Uncle Al stared at his stack of sloppy pancakes. One side had a crispy tan while the other was a white at original batter.
“Morning Al.” I said before serving myself a pair of pancakes for two plates and drenched one serving in syrup. I left without a second glance at Al towards the garden. Anne waited behind the hedge for me, the only reason I knew she was there this morning was a feeling in the back of my head, a twitch of being watched from afar. I saw her smile as I tried desperately not to slip on the frost dew on the grass. My father put down a path of concrete for my grandfather, but I couldn’t be bothered to take it. Her green eyes and pale face stared at me on my approach with a smile clearly plastered on her face.
“Good morning Atlas.” Anne said the moment I reached the inner sanctum of the garden, Grandpa Ralph was already there this morning, wrapped in a heavy coat and gloves along with the worn cane I never saw him without.
“Morning Anne, how is grandpa doing?” I questioned; it really wasn’t a concern for me, this became a daily occurrence that Ralph visited Anne.
“He is tired, I refuse to let him keep winning.” The chess board on the concrete had pieces scattered like a battlefield left only a white king standing in a checkmate. Anne had lost and by the scratch marks made in the frost, she lost every match. Grandpa Ralph rested his forehead on the crook of the cane and quietly snored away.
“Do you want to play?” Anne asked with a begging look in her eyes.
“Not right now Anne, Grandpa has to eat first.” I replied while I gently nudged Ralph’s shoulder with the edge of the plate. He awoke with a start as he gripped his cane like a rifle before his eyes flashed with recognition and he cleared his throat as if to distract us and himself from him forgetting where he was.
“Atlas, you are here early.” The shade of the clouds covered the sun for a moment, but no doubt that the sun had already risen about an hour ago if not longer.
“No grandpa, I’m on time today, have you taken your medication?” I said just as I passed the syrup soaked pancakes to him with a fork I tucked into my pockets. He liked his pancakes as sweet as sin, although it was against his doctor’s orders he still pressured us for at least one meal packed to the brim with sugar. I pulled the small canvas satchel from the ground beside him and took the handful of pills from the side pocket. He swallowed each of them one by one and took a swig from the antique canteen he refused to replace. Rust surely coated every surface on the inside, but he claimed that it made him stronger.
“Thank you son, I would have forgotten otherwise.” Which wasn’t a lie, every day that I wasn’t home in the morning, he forgot them. The state that it induced in the evening after was beyond undesirable and thus I made it my mission to remind him. The degradation of his mind was slow at first, but now if he skipped even a single dose, there was hell to pay.
Stolen novel; please report.
“Couldn’t sleep?” I asked blindly in between the bites of oddly squishy yet firm pancakes. He devoured his like a starving dog and promptly took a finger to the sugary ooze to wipe the plate clean. I wondered about the day he would inevitably choke and quickly shoved the thought down with another bite of breakfast.
“It was a long night, your dad was up late sweeping the property for the coyotes we heard,” Ralph said, patting his belly with satisfaction, “He didn’t find any though, after clearing their den last month. They only use this place as a hunting ground.”
“I kept him safe.” Anne burst out with a wide smile. I no longer found her entertaining, but when she didn't grow up, I pitied her and.
“Now, we have gabbed long enough for now. Where did we leave off?” Ralph said as he placed each piece of the chess board into another pocket of the satchel.
“It’s been over a month since you taught me anything.” I replied with a deep sigh in my chest.
“You must learn control, even if you cannot see the result, there will always be a pushback.” I have been excited for these lessons since I was twelve, but progress was nothing more than a slow fermentation as Ralph tried long ago to explain. He mentioned that it took him nearly 20 years to be able to influence his environment.
“Your gift has always been in arms reach, like your mother’s.” Ralph continued. It may have been close this entire time, but the reason it was so slow was because of the veil. The veil has always been weaker here in the sanctum of the garden, but that didn’t make it easier. The real reason that we couldn’t do it until the strongest time of year for the veil. He described it as a precaution or resistance training, the caution was due to the entity of the house that I deemed The Ragged Man. I had seen him several times since my first encounter in the library, but nothing as terrifying or painful as that. He appeared after a nightmare or when my grandfather was away for his doctor. It was the thing that killed Anne, although we refused to talk to her about it.
“Atlas!” My grandfather exclaimed, “you must focus, not daydream.”
I cleared my mind and focused on the fountain’s water. It did not have the coolness of the morning nor the frost at the edges of the pool. It was immune to the elements for reasons beyond me. I felt the ripple of the water and rush of each molecule, but just as I began to pull a pillar. I imagined that I would be able to do more in this amount of time. Frustration quickly flooded my mind and I released the breath that I didn’t realize that I was holding.
“This is pointless, we can’t keep doing this. This is crazy that you think I can do this.” I almost shouted at the old man.
“You opened a doorway long ago. You are doing it now even if you don’t see it.” We had talked many times about the hidden staircase in the study, but now it felt like an excuse that I was more. There was never a staircase to a forgotten dungeon in the study. Grandpa Ralph showed me the blank wall behind, then to my surprise a shimmer appeared and the stairway formed from it. The moment couldn’t have been farther from the forefront of my mind. In these days of puberty I became a moody teenager and as much as I tried to be reasonable, it was becoming futile.
“I’m going for a walk.” I said without a second notice as I left the sanctum to visit my father. Of course he wasn’t in the house or the tool shed fixing the various things that broke down with age. I retrieved the dirt bike that Grandpa Ralph bought me for my birthday last year, and rode into town. My father was likely not making a trip to the hardware store like he claimed most days, but at the Baptist church down the road. No doubt trying to coax another date from the Groundskeeper. She was about his age if not younger, and no doubt not interested in my recently lovesick father. The cool air would definitely calm my nerves. It was only the weekend after Christmas, but the time approaching to return to school was a relief from my stress. I stopped short of the edge of the property, something glimmered in the distance like shimmering water. I hadn’t noticed this before so I took it upon myself to investigate. The bike lay propped against the flimsy kickstand as I killed the engine. The sound of the abandoned orchard was silent aside from the occasional chirp of a bird in the distance. I approached slowly, drawing back every breath and avoiding every fallen branch as I snuck between the trees. Slowly a pond of standing water came into view, the stagnant water reeked of rotting wood and decomposition. When I approached the water I was awestruck at the sight before me. A column of water rose from the surface of the pond. The water was clear enough to see through the anomaly and the idea struck me. I peered between the trees towards the mansion and saw that the pond lined up nearly perfectly with the back of the garden.
“I did it… I DID IT” I screamed with excitement before hearing a branch crack only a few meters behind me. I swiveled my head towards the sound with an inhuman speed. I felt the pop and crack of my spine warning me with a shiver apart from the cool air.
“Dad, what are you doing here?” My father stood between the trees with his mouth gapping in terror. He took one look at me and simply said.
“What are you doing here?” It was a question, but the thought of answering it honestly was unimportant. I saw fear flicker in his eyes apart from the dark circles around his eyelids.
“I came looking for you, I wanted to check on you.” Concern was heavy in my chest for his heartbreaking relationship with that foul woman. He approached cautiously and placed a hand on my shoulder.
“I’m grateful for the interest, but when I saw your bike collapsed on the side of the road. I had to come see.” He said without taking his eyes off of the watery pillar. I was by no means dressed for the morning weather, but when a sudden brush of freezing chill ran down the back of my neck, I was paralyzed by the feeling. Eyes everywhere hidden in every crack of shadow, the water behind me creeped to the soles of my slippers. I suddenly turned to see that my pillar had taken the shape of a small humanoid figure, its hand raised in a gesture of a hello. The breeze whipped past my ears, almost whistling a long and saddened tune. The figure took a step towards Atlas, its body was still connected to the water, but each step it made caused a ripple across the surface.
“Run boy.” Dad had lunged to be in between Atlas and the figure with a large branch in hand and viciously swung at the water. This did nothing to stop the figure in its pursuit. I tried to back away, but ended up slipping in the muddied earth. I tried to focus as best as I could to dispel the figure. I had summoned it more or less, but I caused it. I placed my hand before myself towards the ever-rippling figure. Eventually it came close enough for my father’s makeshift club to make contact. The wood slashed the water, but just as it had with the edge of the water, it did nothing to stop the crawling advance. Droplets of water and small clumps of mud clung to the branch as my father finished every blow against the figure. Eventually it stopped at the edge of the water and stared at my father before slamming its arm into his chest. The force of water clapping against the fabric and my father’s chest was hard enough to sound throughout the trees. He was sent tumbling to the ground as he gasped for air. His clothes were drenched with the foul water. The figure tried to take another step to the solid ground, but as soon as its foot touched it. The water that held its figure fell away from its body. I focused my mind once again and poured my strength into another attempt, but destroying something inevitable connected to me proved harder than creating. It was only a phantom, I felt its despair as it retreated to the center of the pond. I struggled to rise to my feet as I grappled with the sleek mud. As soon as my balance had returned, I went to my father. He had managed to breath, his eyes continued to stare at the figure now tucked into itself.
“What the fuck was that?” He said to me harshly, although fear was there I felt his anger towards the thing. We made our way through the thicket of trees as I stole one last glance behind us. A tall figure in the distance stared at the pool and the creature sunk back into the water.
“I don’t know.” It wasn’t a lie, at least not intentionally, I told him as he loaded my dirt bike back into the truck. I knew I couldn’t tell him what I have been doing with Grandpa Ralph. His disdain for this place was understandable, but to add another thing to that ever growing list was my last thought.
“Well whatever has been going on, it's creeping me out. I’ll drain the water tomorrow. I don’t want it to ruin the property line, I have a hard time keeping our neighbor’s livestock from eating the hedges.” I glanced up at him when a headache flashed behind my eyes, I pulled myself into his truck as we prepared to spend a day in town. We needed things for the new year’s party on Wednesday: Alcohol for the Adults, snacks for all, and an easy dish for the potluck that evening.
After a few days of uneventful pandering towards distant relatives who decided that they would stay in the guest rooms of Sinn House rather than staying in a hotel only fifteen minutes away. I only interacted with them when I had to, such as carrying their bags to their rooms or watching cousins who ranged from being unable to speak and being able to open the cabinet above the fridge for pre dinner snacks, but when I got away I locked myself in the study with Grandpa. He spent his time reading old books and occasionally attempting to use the typewriter on the corner of his desk. It was more decoration than anything, but it didn’t stop him from asking for a replacement ink ribbon when the fog of old age and alzheimers took control in the evening. The night before the party however was different. His movements seemed youthful as he climbed the ladder attached to the bookcases by a rail. I rushed to secure the ladder as I had seen him fall before and ultimately was not eager to see it again.
“Thank you son.” He acknowledged as he carried a large leatherbound book from the tallest shelf. The book looked heavy enough to crack his oak desk, but in his hands it presented no challenge. The leather was dark and cracked, and the pages sandwiched between were discolored by age to a degree dried and spilt coffee. I wondered what strange magic lay trapped within its pages, but before he even considered opening it, he glanced at my spying eyes resting on the book. He coughed and cleared his throat as a sign I had seen a few times that I wasn’t allowed to see, I turned my back and braced myself for the onslaught of unknown relatives coming to pinch my cheeks and interrogate me for any semblance of entertainment. To my surprise he called me back.
“Sooner or later you are going to see this, so why not see it when I’m still alive.” Ralph said his normal exhaustion of the later hours was nonexistent. I turned to face him as he cracked the book up open to a seemingly random page, I walked around the desk and pulled his chair to force him to sit. Upon the page was a great and sprawling tree depicting many portraits and names along with their assumed birthdates. A family tree was something I was familiar with due to having to do at least one a year for school. It was a useless exercise for me, but the other students in my grade seemed to take great fun from it.
“This is our family, every year I update the birth and death of each member.” He pointed a finger to my portrait, although it was obviously hand drawn, the detail was incredible and I remember what photo the drawing was based on. It was the last family photo my father took with my family keeping me settled on her lap. A tear escaped my eye and I quickly wiped it away.
“This year we lost two people, although distant and otherwise unimportant to us, it is my job to keep a record of it.” Grandpa Ralph took a marker from a drawer and crossed out two faces from a page before my page. I noticed that Mom’s face wasn’t crossed out.
“What about my mother?” I thrust a finger to the early portrait of a face I could never forget.
“Well. Who told you she was dead?” He replied as he returned the marker to its respective place. A memory of red sparked inside my brain as I recalled my father talking to the police in our former living room.
“Do you dream of her still?” The question caught me off guard.
“What do you mean?” I made a wager against myself that if he went on his spew of nonsense that I would walk to the lake and drown myself, but I did dream of her.
“Nobody is truly gone when you hold them in your heart. Our dreams are connected to everyone that is a part of us.” My heart wept for a second at the touching throat when my hand pressed against the mass of pages in my grasp.
“I haven't had a dream in a while, but yes I do.” The weight on my chest began to rise to my throat as I choked down a sob. It was a sensitive subject to me; the thought that she left us for another man. The way that the guidance counselor and police officer tried to explain it always threatened to shatter.
I am here
I flipped the handful of pages open, the voice inside my head was familiar and it compelled me to do so. When I took a glance at the page, I saw nothing of interest beside a script that was clearly a journal entry with a date long before my birth.
“What are you doing?” Grandpa Ralph exclaimed while attempting feebly to push me away from the book. Upon closer inspection the journal entry faded from view to something that looked like a confession. Grandpa Ralph tried to force himself between the book and I, but all attempts proved fruitless as I read the only passage that I needed.
Kill the boy last, take him like the mother.
I turned my head towards Ralph, his expression was grave as his body began to shift. The creaking of bad joints quickly turned to the shattering of bones and the ripping of skin. I quickly turned to run from the abomination rapidly transfiguring from the body of my grandfather.
“Come here son.” The thing’s voice sounded like the shattering of glass. I desperately tried to place each foot carefully just as I realized what the thing was. I turned to face The Ragged Man.
“I’m not scared of you.” The grotesque beast of a man stood staring at me, my confidence was fading fast. I needed a distraction.
“I know what you are.” I claimed blindly, hoping that the mystery was over between the two. The man cocked his head to one side and to the other before completely turning its head over 180 degrees accompanied by a cascade of shattering vertebrae and sinew.
“You know… nothing.” The man reached to one end of the desk and used every bit of strength to send it crashing into the book case. The splintering of wood and the domino of books falling should have brought my father sprinting, but nobody came.
The body of the Ragged Man began to flicker and shutter as if it was a broken television.
“You are an insignificant worm ……my feet. Your bloodline is my trial……. I will rise from the depths of …… half existence and become one with the …… savor your breath.” The lights of the study cracked and shattered leaving only darkness to be seen. Not even the light of the receding dusk shown through the windows.
I woke from a fitful sleep and grasped the bleeding wounds on each of my hands from the thrashing I apparently did with my sleep. The room was a bitter darkness, all feelings of safety now fled with the fading mystery. My mom, my grandpa, my family and dad have possibly all gone by now, the only hope I had was to open a door, a door stolen away from my reach. I hadn’t realized how many things I had forgotten nor how many things I remembered. I felt my face and touched the stubble of a growing beard. ‘How old am I? I couldn’t answer that, but I knew I wasn’t even close to fourteen as I remembered, ‘what happened to my memories?’ The last thing I remembered was the study and that bizarre transformation of my grandfather. ‘Was that even real?’ Of course It was rhetorical, but the feeling grew. What was being replaced could have been my memories, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that the haziness now clouding my thoughts was the remnants of dreams. Escaping through the cracks in my conscious mind. Despite how tired I was I felt around, the older man was gone or moved somewhere else. The shackle that I woke up to before wasn’t replaced, instead a platter of what felt like food sat before me. Suddenly feeling the emptiness of my stomach, I dug each hand into the entree and began shoving the food into my mouth. When I rested to chew between each handful, I felt like my skin was crawling after a few mouthfuls and I stopped my chewing to relax. I thought it was my nerves, but when I sat still I felt the wriggling of little maggots crawling on my exposed skin. I heaved the still squirming contents of my stomach in the corner of the cell. The splatter of it against the granite made every heave harder and longer until the only thing that came forth was the hot acid of bile burning my throat. After taking a second to breath, I stood to escape the mess and stench of vomit. When I was only a few steps away from the disgraceful mess, I tumbled over something metal. The brazier from earlier. I recovered quickly and reduced myself to a crawl the rest of the way. I was miserable, but now I have the tools to escape. I placed my hand against the granite and succumbed to the fogged places within myself.