Her bare feet echoed faintly through the hard corridors, one step quicker than the other. The soles of her feet patting the stone under them almost rhythmic. Dried blood and bruises marked her ankles and calves. Barely viable were they in the dim light from her candle, the only thing giving viability to her surroundings. She gripped the white wax cylinder with grimy hands. Chipped fingernails wrapped around it, the grime from her hands leaving dark brown stains. The melted wax dripped onto her skin covering it in a soot mixed white. Her deep black hair was long and anything but kempt. Oil clung to it like she clung to the wall. It swayed with her step brushing up against the side of her knees. The stone was comforting, the touch keeping her in the moment. The only clothing to be seen was a long sundress, stopping halfway above the ankles and the knee. The top clung to her, too small about the waist.
It went on like that for a while. The pat of her feet, the flicker of her candle. It wasn't clear how long exactly. It could have been an hour, perhaps only 15 minutes. In the long stretch of hallway it was hard to tell. The only identifier of any change was her candle. It burned half way down in the time it took to get to this point. She had limped her way to a cross section, where her lane met another. It was then that she had to make a decision, would she go left, or would she go right. The left seemed to offer the same stone and deep black that the right had to offer. She paused, but only briefly. She continued to lean against the wall and stepped her way towards the right.
Again, much in the same way as previously, she took one step after another until the point in which she reached a cross road. It took her less time to reach this one, the candle standing at three fourths the height as it did when her journey began. Her hand now no longer visible under the wax. She was greeted with the same decision as before and as before she went right.
The candle was burning low at this point. Her hand was completely sealed in the melted wax when she happened upon another choice. Another cross section with the same options, left and right. She almost immediately turned right, but stopped. At the edge of her candle light something was on the ground in front of her, a lighter color than the grey stone. She limped closer. It was white and dirty and very peculiar in shape. Stepping closer it looked like a dress, a pale figure outlined the hallway. With newly found vigor and more than a dash of hope she pressed all but ran.
She stopped. She put her hand up to he gaping mouth, eyes wide with terror. Before her stood a woman, however her skin was white along with her eyes, tongue, and body. She wore a white sundress and had long black hair. In many respects they might have been sisters if not for the woman missing a hand. Where it would have been was instead a soot stained stub, a pile of melted wax below it. She took a few steps back and out of the corner of her eye she noticed something. Another woman a candle light's distance away was standing. Walking over to this new mystery figure revealed pale white skin, and a missing hand. She turned her head down the corridor and much like the other two, stood a wax woman.
It was at this point that she realized that she was still holding the candle. Confused by the numbness she felt she started removing the wax covering her hand. She removed one layer, and then another, and then another until finally, there were no more layers to remove.
