Nightmare Fuel

fIv3

As he dries my hair, he begins whistle.

"You know this song, it's from when the world was at war, the second one I think."
"Almost century from now that is, a century!"

"Do you think I can travel in time like you?"

"Nahhh, it's a special power only I have."

"I don't believe that."

"Well I guess it's up to you whether you want to believe, but you're not going anywhen young man."

"I'm only two years younger than you!" I say, chuckling as he turns to switch off the hair dryer.

"Really? You don't look older than 13! By the way, did I say your black hair is really fluffy?"

"I'm 15 in fact. My hair is not fluffy."

"It is, you can't deny it."
"S'bit stuffy in here isn't it? Know this place is too huge even for two people to live in. Besides, I want to show you around. Come on."

"Are we going outside?"

"Yes, yes we are. let me grab some things real quick and I'll be back in a jiffy."

He opens the door with a creak and left the room, seemingly in a hurry.

He was being fussy about me keeping my head still when my hair was being dried, so I didn't get a chance to look around the room we were in.

It doesn't have the peeling, deteriorated wallpaper like the rest of the house, but a pleasant, greenish, flowery wallpaper that seems to radiate a distinct, sweet fragrance.

As I explore the almost crumbling remains and ruins of messy yellowed papers and open books sprawled all over the floor and wooden desk under the warm light of the candle chandelier, and the mixed up, random items from different eras and times, (ex: a telephone, Dr Who merch for some reason?, Dr Pepper, potato crisps, Spongebob??? When'd he get THAT from??!) my mind began to wonder....

Dawn is not coming.
It's always been night, the moon is always full, and the hands of each clock in this damned mansion will never move forward another second.

I've seen it.
I felt more dull, not alive.
I don't know anything, where I'm from, what's my name, where I came from.
My mind was blank.

I heard loud crackling sound from the corner of my eye, and jumped in shock.

It's that music again.
that music.....from when I was running in the halls.

On the farm....every Friday....
On the farm....is rabbit pie day.
So every Friday...that ever comes along....
I get up early and sing this little song.

I keep my eyes locked on the grammaphone propped in the corner of the room, my hand grabbing onto a dusty, wooden bookshelf, toppling over some books in a process.

God damn it....
Did he hear me....?

Hearing no sound from outside, I wasted no time to bust open some boxes. I know snooping is not a good thing, but I can't help being too curious!

In my 'investigation', I found out that the boxes were not dusty, and so was the books scattered on the floor.

He'd been finding something.

The music still playing in the background, I began to dig in and search.

For what?
Anything....some information.
Because there is something no one here would tell me.
Something he is keeping from me.

It doesn't add up, and I
I don't mean to be suspicious of him, I really don't, but....

It's like every word he says....
there's only half a chance that they could be true, or that they could just be some nonsense that he made up.

maybe he's just some eccentric guy living in the middle of the woods, a poor guy who's lost his mind, thinking he was living in 1857, England though he's got the place right.

But I was wrong.
Even if I thought he was lying....

dawn never came, and the clocks in the mansion still remains midnight.
The mask remains on his face
and the music keeps repeating.
Over and over and over and over....