The Eidolon of Godwyn

Chapter Seven

Ossie awoke. Once again the world around him was black. His eyes had yet to adjust, leaving him temporarily blind. He didn't know where he was, which seemed to be the new trend. At least it was more comfortable than any spot he'd found himself at in a while. Certainly more so than his previous predicament. Last he remembered he was drowning, so how did he come to be here? Was it possible that this was the afterlife? He doubted it as he rolled to his side, a spring jabbing him in the rib. If this is what the great beyond looked like it was sad. Objects slowly started to form in front of him. Furniture parting from darkness's veil. The rooms contents shown a small wooden chair, and a dresser with no legs on one side. It sloped, a veteran who'd suffered injury trying its best to carry out its duty. Either it was this or the floor, was far from level. It was final, he had to be inside Lorn Mansion.

Normally a miraculous teleporting act from drowning to lying in a haunted mansion would have confounded and frightened Ossie. However, after everything he'd been through lately it seemed much less bewildering. He sighed as he sat up moving to the edge of the bed, extending one arm out in front of himself. His hands were without straw. He touched his hand to his head, tracing the globe to see if any new continents had formed. Nope, only the normal bruises. He turned his attention to his knee, it appeared to still be a little swollen but otherwise fine. What a relief, it didn't seem as though he had attained any novel injuries, he placed a hand on the back of his neck. He twisted his spine in a circle, prompting the room to reveal how hollow it was, reverberating the skeletal echo back to him as his neck cracked. Save himself, the mansion seemed devoid of life.

Ossie continued to rub beneath his collar still a little stiff, his hand coming to rest on an odd impression. A bite mark? It felt as though it came in two puncture holes, small and needle like.

"My god, it's alive."

Ossie jumped at the sarcastic remark, an unfamiliar voice in this empty tomb. For a second he almost welcomed the presence of another being in this forsaken abode, but thought better of it, perhaps it was worse to not be alone. A glance around the room proved him to be forlorn, with nobody to accompany him.

"Hello?"

"Greetings Mr. Godwyn." The voice was old, in its fifties or sixties, British, soft... and very condescending. "If you'd like we could waste more time with greetings, but while you were snoozing I had plenty of time to get acquainted."

"I beg your pardon?" Ossie stood up searching for the source of the disembodied voice.

"Please don't beg, its most unbecoming of a man. I only meant to say that you create an awful lot of ruckus as you dwelled."

Ossie kneeled looking under the bed, this voice was starting to remind him more and more of someone, in a way that was more than he could handle.

"Ossie you've investigated the bed enough this past day don't you think?"

"What are you on about?" This time he checked what appeared to be a very large walk in closet. He entered with his fists raised. Partly to break the veil of cobwebs, but mostly to strike any hidden assailants.

"I do wish you'd come out of the closet already."

Ossie spun the voice, nagging him from elsewhere, he retreated from the wardrobes corridor.

"I've had about enough of your jeering instigations!" He turned creeping towards the fire place that he had just discovered. Peering into it he reached for a fire poker, prodding the inside. Empty. He circled back to the last unchecked section of the room. The window curtains. They tossed ever so gently, the window must have been open. A cold draft sweeping in. It grew so quite it seemed the very night held its breath. Than Ossie broke it. Quickly he crossed over to the concealed aperture. With his weapon in hand and one swift motion he tore open the curtains. A gust of frozen air rushed inside the room, seeking refuge in his lungs, a chill gripped him momentarily.