Wander

//Funeral Pyre//

It took almost all of Wander's will to not double over and throw up right where he stood.

The first thing that greeted visitors to the room was a large pile of bodies a few feet from the entrance. He wanted to look away from the disgusting mound of flesh and blood and guts and - he couldn't take it anymore.

He placed one hand on the wall for support, leaning over and vomiting all over the ground. Even after his stomach had no more to spew forth, his body kept trying to do so. Finally, after what felt like hours but couldn't have been more than a handful of minutes, Wander's stomach finally calmed down, and with the back of a violently shaking hand, he wiped his mouth.

He took a moment to compose himself, which is easier said than done. After a deep breath, he went to move away from the wall to grab his torch, which he had dropped when the contents of his stomach had made a most unwelcome appearance, but froze. He slowly pulled his hand away from the smooth stone wall, hesitantly looking down at it. He nearly lost it again, as it was covered in a layer of warm, sticky, crimson substance that he immediately knew was blood.

Wander found it hard to resist the urge to turn around and run back to the inviting feeling that the library had given him.

He picked up his ever burning torch, raising it slowly. As he had suspected, the walls where coated in blood almost entirely. Despite trying to avoid it, his gaze was drawn to the mass of bodies on the floor in front of him. He wanted to look away, but just couldn't. People of all sizes lay in the disgusting mound of flesh, from children that Wander could guess where only a few months old to people that were well into their lives. He held his light source closer, hoping that maybe one of them he knew and would jog his memory, but instead let out a cross between a whimper and choking.

To his disgust and horror, none of the victims of whatever brutal crime had been committed had a face. Wander found it hard to suddenly get air into his lungs, as if some invisible dagger had slashed a fine line across his throat. Not a single person in the pile, young or old, small or big, had a face. They looked exactly like the monster that had been tormenting him, taunting his very existence within the castle walls. No, it wasn't tormenting him - no, it was playing with him. There was no other explanation, for he had no doubt it could have easily killed him the first encounter that he had with it.

This monster was hunting him like some perverted predator hunts an injured piece of prey, playing with his food before finally growing tired of doing so and delivering the kill. Wander knew that he had to get out of this room before he lost it entirely.

He held the torch high above his head, about to search for a way out when the light extinguished. This time, he did whimper like a small child wanting his mother. He dropped the torch, his mind reeling. It had been burning fine just seconds before! The sound of the wood bounding on the floor before coming to a rest emanated through the space, followed by a low hissing sounds coupled with scrapes along stone.

Panicking, Wander spun around, running where he expected the door to be. Instead, he grabbed something squishy, reeking horribly. He gave a shrill yell, backing away slowly as he could only guess he had grabbed one of the mutilated bodies. That couldn't be possible, all the bodies where in the middle of the room!

Remembering the matches that he had found, Wander dug for the box in his pocket, shivering violently. The room was getting colder? He couldn't comprehend what was going on, except for the sounds that emanated from all directions. He finally found them after searching in his coat, pulling the box out.

In his hurry, he dropped it to the floor just after opening it.

At this, Wander started to cry. He was going to die here, in this place, at the hand of whatever it was that was chasing him! He felt chills go down his spine as he dropped to his knees, blindly searching the floor for a match that he could use to see. Between sobs, he could hear the whispers of the damned, the horrible scratching sound of nails on stone, the hissing - all mixing together to create a terrifying chorus of pure terror.

He kept scrabbling, grabbing things that he couldn't see but his imagination could easily fill the blanks in. He had to find a match, he had to find a match, any match, a single match...He finally felt one, letting out a crazed laugh.

He hurriedly scrambled to his feet, raising his right leg and striking the match on the bottom of his shoe's sole. A small flame flickered to life, not nearly enough to comfort Wander, and most definitely not enough to illuminate his surroundings. With the terrifying sounds emanating from everywhere at once, Wander spun around, trying to find a glimpse of what horrors lay in the dark.

His fingers, slick with the blood that coated the floor, lost their grip on the match and it went flying away from him. He lunged for it, but his foot slipped on something and he fell to the floor, pain shooting up his jaw as it crashed against the cold and unforgiving stone.

Finally, it seemed as if fortune - if it could be called that - smiled down upon him. The match landed on the large disgusting mass of bodies. Before Wander could understand what had happened, it seemed as if the entire mound had gone up in flames all at once, illuminating the darkness. He recoiled from the heat, sliding back over stray body parts.

He could see the monster clearly now, on the other side of the burning funeral pyre. It had its arms raised, cringing away from the heat and light of the fire. After a moment, it seemed to think better then to chase after Wander. He could only assume that it looked at him, gave a small hiss, and scurried back into the shadows that lay further into the room.

Scrambling to his feet, Wander focused his efforts on finding the door. He felt a lump in his throat rising as he looked around, and couldn't see it. What madness was this? He slowly backed up, about to give up and curl up into a ball, awaiting death when he tripped backwards for the umpteenth time since the nightmarish episode had started.

Instead of falling back onto the wall behind him, he fell through it. He took but a moment to realize that in his act of falling, he had managed to fall against the large doors with enough force to push them open. He struggled to regain his footing, as he was now coated in the crimson liquid. Finally, he managed to stand, quickly shutting the doors with a loud, resounding slam.

Wander could no longer stand, falling to the ground as tears burst from his eyes. He brought his knees to his chest, gently rocking back and forth, not caring if death took him into its cold embrace or not.