FIDDLEFORD APPRECIATION MONTH. Week one- parallel Fiddleford

Day 11

The mansions halls and corridors were long and labyrinthian with design. They twisted, turned and often stopped at almost random moments as if they were trying to trap people in a state of confusion  in its walls. So it was to no surprise that Fiddleford had been lost inside his new home more than once. He had even thought about making his own tracking devices to help guide him around the threshold.

Today had been a rainy, dreary and down right miserable. A Monday, typical. He and Stanford had been working in their make-shift lab all day, not worth going out to sort the garden and there has been some experiments Ford has been dying to do. For the last couple hours they had been running on empty and he noticed Stanford had been slowing with energy loss. Fidd rolled his eyes and offered to fetch some more coffee and biscuits. Stanford smiled gratefully and handed him his empty mug before looking back down at his work. Fidd kissed his cheek and left toward the kitchen. 

It had been almost an hour and Fiddleford was lost within his own home. He wearily stepped forward as he looked around him. The hall was so long even bigger than his old house (shack) by far. The walls were covered with paintings of people he didn't know by artists he never heard of. Ford would probably know, due his natural gift of art and extensive knowledge. The halls were well lit but long shadows were cast along the corridor. They made him jump slightly when they just brushed into his vision. Fiddleford took a few more steps forward before stopping and stepping back. His fingers tapped against his chin as he tried to remember the way to the kitchen.
"Maybe I should just go back and start again" he stated to himself before turning on his heels and wandered back down the path.

The more he wandered the more lost he became. Traveling down the winding paths and elongated corridors. He wasn't even recognising some of these places, like he had gone into a completely new part of the house. Doors after doors stood against the walls, eerily watching him walk past. He was getting an unsettling feeling in his stomach. The shadows seemed to have been following him. No. they can't do that they are just tricks of the light. He shook his head at the silly thought and looked at the end of the corridor. It looked as though it was a dead end, again. However, the more he looked he swore he saw a flash of familiarity rush though him. If he could figure out where he was he might be able to get to the kitchen or the lab.

He walked towards it, his footsteps clicking in the silence, echoing around the empty hall. As he neared the end he began to feel nauseous as something nagged at him in his mind. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up and he began to subconsciously tug at his beard. He came within three steps with the end of the hall before his heart sank and his eyes widened.

That evil one eyed triangle woven into the fabric of a tapestry. It's thread a chilling blood red and a black trim wrapped all around it. The eye, that soul piercing eye stared straight at Fiddleford. As if it was watching him. Fidd's breathing heightened as the memories of weirdmagedon, the portal failure and the torment before that came flooding back. His head hurt with the rush of memories. His eyes began to tear up and he froze in the tapestries gaze. He let out choked sobs when he thought of all the sadness and regret this demon brought into his life. Slowly he took a step back before backing away completely. Hands running through his white beard, pulling long strands out of it. Eyes kept on the tapestry at all times.

Suddenly he ran into something, it was soft and gave out a small groan if pain as he rammed into it. He looked up to see Stanford standing above him.
"There you are–Fidd what's wrong?" He questioned and put a six fingered hand on his shoulder. Fidd just sobbed in reply, frantically trying to calm down and wiping his tears. Stanford hugged him close and stroked his back.
"Okay, okay, it's alright I've got you" he whispered. Fidd held onto him, desperate for reassurance and to feel safe. Stanford was warm and securing, helping Fidd's worries fade and calm down.
"Thank ya darlin'," Fidd smiled as he pulled away from Stanford's  hold.
"Come on let's get to the kitchen" said Stanford as he held into Fiddleford's hand and lead him down the hall ways. Fidd just followed behind, loving the feeling of his his hand encased in Ford's. I'm sure Ford would be more than happy to burn that tapestry with him.