The Curse of Imagination (English Version)

The Bottomless Pit

The alarm clock rang at 6 o'clock. I pulled myself out of bed and walked out of the room, still a little dazed. I reached the kitchen and started making the coffee; looking out the window, I noticed that the sun had not yet risen. After consuming coffee, I got ready to go. I checked the bag one last time and if I had everything I needed. Then, after finishing the last preparations, I left the house.

I went down into the parking lot and loaded everything into the car.

A journey of about two hours awaited me. What would I find there?

At that moment, several questions flashed through my mind, and instinct told me to let it go. But there was something in that picture, and it was worth trying.

I got in the car and, after a couple of attempts, the engine started. I set up the GPS and left.

I was sure that this trip would've solved many of my questions... but I still did not know what was waiting for me.

In two hours, I reached my destination. The area of the city was deserted. The only thing I saw was a couple of cars traveling along the main street. In Prescott's area, many of the buildings were abandoned and crumbling, the courtyards were infested with plants. I crossed the avenue, the ruined asphalt made the car jump. The windows of the houses were barred from the inside and the outer walls were filled with cracks. I slipped into a lane on the left, obscured by trees on either side of the road. The GPS signaled me the destination, I was next to a black gate. I pulled over and stopped. I turned the engine off and went out, the wind was shaking the branches of the trees. I put the backpack on my shoulders and headed for the gate. It had been closed with several chains. I searched the sides and noticed a small space between the wall and the gate where I could pass. With difficulty, I managed to pass through. The wind moved the leaves throughout the area. The vegetation had grown tall and wild. I crossed the avenue, then I arrived in front of a large atrium.

In front of me, a large dilapidated building. The cracks stretched up to the roof.

Some windows were barred from the inside, while others had shattered.

Suddenly, the wind stopped blowing and the birds quieted. I heard a creak.

I stood still for several seconds. After that, I approached the building. Above the entrance, there was an illustration of a hand that, clutching a brush, emerged from a well.

"DeepWell Studios".

I took out my camera and started taking pictures. Then, I approached the entrance. I found myself in front of a hallway. I was surprised that the place had not been looted or vandalized in any way, everything had been left. I closed the door, I turned to the left and went into the drawing-room n.1. There were drawing-tables, all lined up neatly. The light from the slits of the wooden beams nailed to the windows allowed me to orient myself. I noticed that under each drawing table there was a compartment. I raised the surface of the drawing table, the wood was rotted and pitted. I looked inside the compartment and barred my eyes.

I found myself in front of dozens of sketches that depicted ... him, in different poses. The sheets were yellowed and ruined by humidity. Under each sheet, there was written: "Toby S. poses 7".

Toby... so that was how it was called.

Everything was absurd, but that meant only one thing: I was in the right place. I took photographs of each sheet and closed the compartment. I did not resist the temptation: I opened it again and took away a couple of sheets, probably no one would care since they had been there for almost 90 years.

I was surprised that, after so many years, the contents of the sheets were still visible. I closed the compartment again and checked into the other drawing desks, in all there were practically the same drawings, some still visible and others ruined and blurred.