Cold, that is the first thing I felt when I woke up for the first time in that putrid library of the damned house that imprisoned me. Only a few faint embers remained lit in the fireplace, insufficient to provide warmth but enough to see the deplorable state of the place. The ceiling, composed of blackened and swollen wood, seemed about to collapse at any moment. The walls were considerably worse, with immense black stains that completely consumed the wooden panels, while white mycelium spread across all the carpets, turning them into large pieces of morbid cotton.
The books behind me were not in better shape: matted, dusty, with some of their pages folded and their covers corroded by mold. Opening them, the stench of humidity that emanated made me cringe in disgust, though it didn't prevent me from reading them. Those books would become my greatest friends, guides, and tutors, patiently imparting their timeless lessons in an eternal conversation. They were the only ones that didn't make me feel like a rat trapped in a tiny cage.
I lit a candle with the help of the embers from the fireplace and ventured into the claustrophobic dark and damp corridors to once again search for an exit. The heavy air made it difficult to advance, but I continued, driven by a sense of blind determination.
All the corridors of the house seemed to converge in the main hall, which appeared to be the best-preserved place of all. However, even there, the environment was in ruins. The putrid armchairs released their corrupted stuffing onto the floor, while the drawers of the cabinets, along with their liquor bottles, lay shattered beneath them. The fallen coffee tables, with broken legs, seemed to merge with the mycelium on the floor, which, like the walls in the library, were as black as the night sky.
In the west wing, in front of a window blocked from the outside, was the bathroom, which had suffered the same fate as the rest of the house. The mold's quest to maintain its habitat doomed all the objects inside. Contaminated water flowed brown from the salt-encrusted pipes; the toilet and shower didn't work, and the tasteless insects, whose dark bodies were fused to the ceiling, had been reduced to food for the mold. Horrified and disgusted by what I had witnessed, I headed back to the library.
As I was about to reach the end of the hallway, I began to hear voices coming from behind the wall. Moved by curiosity more than common sense, driven by the opportunity to find other human beings, I headed towards the source of the noise. I turned to the north wing and found two doors side by side. I decided to enter the first one, as that was where the voices were coming from.
Crossing the threshold, I was petrified, and in a fit of horror, my hand dropped the candle. Immediately, I ran back to the safe sanctuary of my library. When I finally managed to get there, to my surprise, the room was completely dark. I had to relight the candles before I could sit down and calm my frightened heart. Once calmed, I resumed reading the saga about the intrepid Viking Fiólmod and reflected on what I had glimpsed in that small dark room.
I recalled that among its decomposed furniture, I could distinguish a figure of pulsating, swollen, and deformed flesh that resembled what was once a woman. She gazed with luminous white eyes at the moldy, destroyed bed, while she cradled and lulled in an incomprehensible tongue a nonexistent person. Realizing that the creature was standing up, and seeing her necrotic flesh and her piercing white eyes, highlighted even more by the brightness of her sclera, I fled in terror like a decapitated chicken.
After that unpleasant encounter, my determination to escape that damned house contaminated with unimaginable horrors was further strengthened. Once again, I began to desperately search for an exit, starting with the east wing, where the library was located. However, I found a boarded-up window, a putrid dining room, and a desolate kitchen. Spiders and cockroaches had made their nests among the furry fruits tinged with a sickly green and the rusty pots, spreading corruption to anyone foolish enough to try to find something edible among the mountains of rot. The only thing left was a room that apparently served as a tool shed, all of them rusted and contaminated by the mold.
I didn't want to spend much time in the north wing for fear of encountering the creature, but my curiosity urged me to open the second door. However, my excitement quickly turned to disappointment upon finding it locked. In a hurry, I crossed the main hall towards the south wing, trying to be cautious so as not to alert any unwanted company. In the corridor, I found a window emitting a solitary line of light through a tiny hole in one of the poorly placed boards. Looking out, my horror became palpable when I saw that the backyard was simply a tiled floor surrounded by immense gray walls that blocked the view of everything except a small portion of the sky, which was just absolute darkness without a single star on sight. Despite this, I stayed for a while, observing it before continuing on my way.
On my journey, I encountered the door that led to the backyard. In my eagerness to find an exit, I decided to move forward without further delay. When I reached the end of the corridor I was in front of the immense door of solid oak, impeccable and indifferent to all the contamination inside. But to my dismay, it was also hermetically sealed like the door in the north wing. Nevertheless, I knew I couldn't turn back; my bulging eyes were moist with anticipation at the proximity of my escape.
I began desperately searching for something I could use as a battering ram, but unfortunately, my efforts were fruitless. Everything in this house was contaminated, rusted, or decayed beyond any imaginable measure.
Exhausted from my search, I decided to return to the south wing to explore it more thoroughly since the vision of a possible exit had blinded me to everything else, making me forget about the other rooms. When I finally reached the entrance to the corridor, I was startled by a noise: the patio door was opening. My brain seemed to boil, and no matter how much air I tried to inhale, the feeling of suffocation didn't stop. Hearing the footsteps, I set aside my sense of reason along with the candle and ran like a furious demon, seeking refuge behind an armchair in the main hall, praying not to be discovered.
Peeking from my hiding place to assess the situation, I almost let out a scream upon encountering once again the spectral light of those dead eyes protruding from the shadows, along with its eerie mouth. Observing them more closely, I noticed that the eyes had a different iris than the previous creature; they were completely black. Looking at them was like having two spear tips piercing my eyes. I had to cover my mouth to prevent my noisy breathing from alerting the creature, though that didn't stop the eyes from getting even closer in my direction. Every drop of sweat trickled down my body as the tension built up in my head, not knowing if it had discovered me or not. For a moment, I considered desperately fleeing towards the exit and using my body as a battering ram to open the door, regardless of the risk of breaking my arm.
As I prepared to execute my plan, I realized the eyes were no longer there. I felt great relief, but also a deep insecurity inside me. I scanned the area for any trace and, to my surprise; my gaze was drawn directly to my right, where the dead embers in the fireplace lay. At that moment, a resounding crash of objects falling heavily to the floor echoed among the corrupt walls. Startled, I took that opportunity to move away, but in my escape, I bumped into the gramophone, whose rusty horn produced a loud screech as it struck the window beside it.
Once again, I was engulfed in an asphyxiating sensation of desperation, but this time it was different. It was more intense, more insidious, rooting itself deep within my being. I remained crouched in the darkness, trembling, not daring to turn around, as if denying reality and hoping it would never come. Time passed, and the sounds of objects being piled continued to resonate undisturbed in their environment, but when they finally ceased, they were replaced by the sound of liquid spilling. A match was struck, and suddenly, I could see the dark room with the faint orange tint of the dancing flames, moving in their eternal game with the shadows. It seemed that the creature had lit the fireplace. With its work completed, I could hear its steps moving away in the direction it had come from. And upon hearing the sound of a door opening and closing forcefully, I assumed it had returned to the backyard.
This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.
When I managed to gather the strength to continue, I headed once again to the library, seeking refuge in the worlds of fantasy to soothe my tormented soul. However, my hopes were quickly shattered by the harsh reality that seemed to cling to me. Upon reaching my destination, illuminated by the faint embers of the fireplace, lay the repulsive and necrotic figure of that female being holding a book whose decayed and blackened cover I barely managed to recall, titled 'The Wall.'
In my weakened and feverish mind, the worm of truth began to gestate its grotesque theories, and there was only one action that could confirm its terrible truth. I placed myself in front of her, paralyzed at the threshold, I watched as that creature grotesquely dragged itself in front of me, without showing any reaction on its putrefied face, as she got closer and closer to me.
When the moment of truth arrived, our bodies collided, and my hands sank into its gelatinous flesh as the invisible tentacles of the parasitic fungus penetrated my being, filling me with its cursed spores. At that moment, the cycle of revelations was activated, allowing me to glimpse the abyss of a cosmic truth, and I could contemplate the Dark god; a terrible being with two heads and a twisted body that perversely danced to the rhythm of flesh and metal, rejoicing in the fear and desolation that consumed me upon such a discovery.
Lying on the ground, I could feel the fungus consuming my hands, but in return, I gained the ability to see things as they truly were. Those dreadful beasts that had caused me so much fear were now mere caricatures of life, grotesque parodies reveling in their repetitive act, pleasing an indifferent master. Witnessing this performance made me lose all hope and desire I had for life, and it deeply irritated me to see the male creature lighting fires it would never enjoy while it fell into a maddening and eternal cycle of going back and forth from the yard to the main hall and into the kitchen, searching for alcohol that no longer existed. The walls of the house resonated with the constant sound of doors opening and closing every time the ignorant beast entered and left, letting senseless babble escape from its putrid mouth, directed at no one but itself, existing only to torment the poor soul who heard them.
Meanwhile, in the main hall, I watched the female creature absorbed in reading her wordless book, then heading to the small room in the north wing where she conversed with a non-existent being on a crumbling bed; later, I observed her in the office of the south wing, sitting in a rickety chair, writing without a pen on fungus-infected papers. This parade of incoherent actions, witnessing it repeat in an endless cycle, filled my heart with deep and overwhelming pain.
Unable to bear this painful reality any longer, from which I knew I could not escape, for behind the imposing oak door there was nothing but an immovable gray wall, I decided to take refuge in the library, awaiting the inevitable outcome my own actions had accelerated. As the necrotic tissue slowly advanced up my arms, mercilessly deforming them, I found solace only in immersing myself in the last stories remaining in my library.
However, the wretched souls continued to disturb my peace with their repetitive acts: taking out and putting back the same book, throwing logs to the floor with force, and lighting the fireplace whose flames failed to dispel the icy cold invading my deteriorated body. I tried to get up to find another place, but the infection had reached my legs, weakening them to the point of not being able to support me with their gelatinous tissue. Resigned to my fate, I stayed crouched by the fire, limited to reading stories like "The Odyssey." However, over time I grew tired of those heroes whose situations and actions no longer resonated with me. I longed for a story in which I could identify, of an invincible hero who defied even the ouroboros itself, whose control over creation challenged the very gods. During these delusions that assailed my mind, my hands were busy writing those insane thoughts as my eyes continued watching the fungus-infected corpses moving back and forth to the rhythm of the doors opening and closing, creating an incessant symphony of maddening sounds.
During all that time as a mere spectator, distracted from reality by my own delusions, I began to feel strangely comfortable, even happy. I realized how amazingly adaptive the human mind can be, finding a sense of security rooting deep within my soul, cradling me in the arms of the cyclical prison in which I found myself. I could find some peace in the morbid and tempting idea that everything would remain the same forever.
But I was not willing to settle for that; I did not want to be a willing participant in that repugnant act orchestrated by the malevolent puppeteer who had us trapped. No! My true desire was something else. And with that realization born from anger and eternal human dissatisfaction, I was taken to another place, far from all that senseless torture.
On the edge of a white fountain, which emanated streams of amber liquid, sat the most beautiful woman I had ever seen. She had a slender body with delicate and angular curves, covered only by a peplos and leather sandals laced around her ankles. Her beautiful and soft hair, the color of autumn leaves, fell over her shoulders, while the rest flowed freely down her back. From the fountain, she watched me with her black eyes, in which entire universes could be glimpsed.
Stepping up from the fountain that angelic figure approached me, and when she was less than a meter away, I felt the invisible force that had brought me here begin to leave me. However, just as I was about to fall to the ground, she held my deteriorated body and kept me upright with her prodigious power, gently placing me in a seat that seemed to have appeared from nowhere. She sat in front of me, and her skin, so flawless and radiant, seemed untouchable to a being as repugnant as the parasite growing inside me.
When she began to speak, her voice resonated like the most angelic and perfect melody, caressing my ears with its sweetness and warmth.
"I am so happy that you didn’t lose your way and that we could finally meet," she said with a warm smile.
The way she greeted me with such joy, as if she had been waiting for our meeting for a long time, filled me with happiness but also awakened a shadow of inadequacy within me. I felt like a foreigner stepping into a city for the first time, not understanding why someone like me was wanted in such a perfect place, and much less by someone like her. Despite my silence, she gently stroked my hand, her warm smile still lighting up her face, as if she could understand me completely.
"My name is Saphira," she said calmly. "I reward those beings who manage to teach me something new and who have been able to reach this place, granting them a wish as a token of gratitude."
I didn’t know exactly what I could teach to deserve such an offer, nor could I believe that I was finally being given the opportunity to make my wish come true. All this seemed like a dream, too perfect to be true. However, when I tried to speak to express my wish, I could only produce ghastly croaks; it seemed the fungus had already destroyed my vocal cords. Seeing me in such a state of distress, Saphira caressed my necrotic face with such tenderness as if I was the most valuable treasure in the world.
"Don’t worry, I am with you. Poor soul, it must hurt immensely, but don’t worry, you don’t need to strain yourself anymore. I am here to help you. You don’t have to speak, your soul has already informed me of your wish."
Hearing those sweet words, filled with a genuine sense of compassion, I began to cry inconsolably, as if I finally felt free to release everything I had been holding during all that time I was imprisoned inside that grotesque house. Despite the immense pain, I lifted my arms and embraced her with all the strength my rotten arms could muster, though it was as weak as a paper string. We remained in that position until I had completely poured out my feelings, and in silence, she returned to her seat with a solemn expression on her face.
"I really wanted that you reconsidered your wish, but your soul seems very stubborn. I think it’s a pity," said Saphira with a note of sadness in her voice. "Are you sure you want to continue?"
I nodded slowly. I was ready. Now that I had experienced kindness, there was nothing left that I desired in this world. As I felt my consciousness fade, my life, with its endless cycles, played before my eyes. At the same time, my memory, my ideas, and my identity vanished. Finally, I stopped dancing to entertain my puppeteer; now I did it on my terms and by my own decision, without waiting for him to tire of me and choose my end.
***
In the library of an abandoned house, next to the fireplace where the embers no longer glowed, lay the body of a young man in an advanced state of decomposition. Although his appearance was one of decay, a peaceful smile could still be seen on his face. Next to his body was a pile of yellowed papers with the name "Mr. Universe" written on top. In front of the corpse, a creature whose body was covered by an immense black cloak and whose head resembled a fleshy rope with multiple eyes and mouths, watched him intently with solemnity in its gaze.
“I’m sorry, I couldn't help you”