IC - 3 - Tapping at my Chamber Door - Darren
Posted: Sun Nov 13, 2022 10:59 pm
Darren charges past the banister around the stairway and barrels through the closed door to the north west room, his kick splintering the wooden door and ripping out a chunk of the doorframe. The door flies open and strikes the wall with a solid thunk that reverberates throughout the upper floor. A strong, unpleasant smell hits him as soon as the door opens.
Rushing inside, Darren can't see a thing, the only light is the faintest of glows filtering through the crack in the door at the north of the landing. Then there's an almighty crack, and simultaneous searing white of lightning. The room lights up with a harsh light through the gaps in the shutters and boards of the windows.
Darren takes in the room with a glance. It's large, maybe the master bedroom. In the centre is the mouldering remains of a queen-sized bed, torn and stained. There's a large closet door in the south wall, and a ceiling hatch with an attached rope dangling down a few feet. No other furniture except a fine mirror in a brass frame next to the window. In front of the mirror stands Ian, gazing intently into the glass.
Hurrying towards Ian, Darren hears another crack, but there's no lightning. He steps forward again, and another crack. He looks down but it's pitch black again and his night vision was washed out by the lightning. Then the light flashes again, accompanied by the crash of thunder. Darren looks down under his feet. There's pools of water and patches of damp on the floorboards, several look black and rotten. His right foot has sunk into a boggy fibrous board which is sagging and bowing in the middle.
Rushing inside, Darren can't see a thing, the only light is the faintest of glows filtering through the crack in the door at the north of the landing. Then there's an almighty crack, and simultaneous searing white of lightning. The room lights up with a harsh light through the gaps in the shutters and boards of the windows.
Darren takes in the room with a glance. It's large, maybe the master bedroom. In the centre is the mouldering remains of a queen-sized bed, torn and stained. There's a large closet door in the south wall, and a ceiling hatch with an attached rope dangling down a few feet. No other furniture except a fine mirror in a brass frame next to the window. In front of the mirror stands Ian, gazing intently into the glass.
Hurrying towards Ian, Darren hears another crack, but there's no lightning. He steps forward again, and another crack. He looks down but it's pitch black again and his night vision was washed out by the lightning. Then the light flashes again, accompanied by the crash of thunder. Darren looks down under his feet. There's pools of water and patches of damp on the floorboards, several look black and rotten. His right foot has sunk into a boggy fibrous board which is sagging and bowing in the middle.