Kemira

city.of.angels@usa.net

 You are about to enter a world unlike any other. Where dreams turn 
deadly, hope becomes horror, and nightmares pale to events when you
awake. Soon you will wonder if those around you hear the deafening 
sound of your own beating heart. A thought takes hold, and you know 
it is the truth, you've already had your last good night's sleep.
 Welcome to the Bastille. 

 You enter pass through a heavy velvet curtain, from
the main hallway, and the first thing you notice is the 
heavy odor of blood in the air. Stone walls are decorated
with ornate golden frames, but there is no picture within, 
only a black space. You discover, however, that when your 
fingertips brush the cold surface, ripples start out from 
the center. Light fills the frame as a picture comes clear.
You continue around the room, touching each blackness in turn.
 The pictures are frightening, spattered lightly with drops
of dried blood. They depict scenes of untold horror, and 
you recoil as your heart thuds in your throat. While 
examining thr last picture, you notice a bit of writing on
the wall behind a graceful drape of red gossamer. Intrigued,
you pull it back, gagging from the smell of rotted meat. 
Written on the cold stonework are a few words. Some are smeared,
a few are rubbed almost to invisibility, but they are still
legible. 
 
"I feel its presence, icy fingers upon my throat.
I hear its eerie sounds, unsettling my every thought.
I try in vain to slumber, my reveries gripped by 
violent terror. My only salvation, the shock of 
awakening. Something is very, very wrong here."
 
Near the bottom of the wall under the insane scribblings is a
dead body, preyed upon by rats and maggots. Only the skeleton
remains, its empty sockets staring up at you from the carefully
polished marble floor. Stricken with terror and your mind reeling,
you do the only thing left. You run.