hallway.
“I hope it will serve you well my lady … ”.
Upon entering my room, I would
have found a home for my items, but due to what had ensued, I only had a few
left; which did not include the dagger my father had given to me. My
room was airy; a few objects were placed about my room, a single bed, the
quilts of which were a murky brown colour; stained and with burns throughout.
There was a wardrobe for my clothing; well I was certain that would not get
used, unless of course I decided I wanted to walk around exposed, ready in
waiting for all whom dare to see. Behind the door was an aptly sized table,
with a selection of books thrown about.
My window was quite peculiar; extruding out in bizarre directions; only held together by eroding
screws, some of which hung loosely.
Despite the appearance of the
bed, I chose to rest upon it; it would possibly be the only chance I got until
this evening and I have not slept in quite some time.
As soon as I laid down upon the
bed I immediately noticed something untoward and it was not the odour from the
under washed bedding, it was the frame itself.
Standing back up, I walked to the
end of the bed, pressing down onto the frame; it did not move an inch, but on
closer inspection I saw that it was slanted and so also was the whole of
the floor.
“This will be a remarkable
experience”. I said to myself, as I sucked on my lower lip.
Stepping back over, I lowered
myself, deciding to position my body to the side of the bed, which was a
fraction straighter; keeping myself level headed was always a desirable trait.
A few hours passed by, waking up,
then falling back to sleep again; having dreams that seemed to have no
connection with any event in my life; ultimately arising as nature called me to
duty at the most inconvenient of times.
The sun was beginning to set and
the town crier was bellowing words in a strong accent that only the local folk
could clearly understand. Time to explore I thought to myself. I walked to the
end of the hallway, seeing sunlight I chose not to venture downstairs, instead
veering to the right, coming out into a raised garden patio. There seemed, at
first, to be nothing exceptional about this area; half of the plants had
withered away, the chairs were longstanding and half broken and the stone slabs
upon the floor were layered in moist moss, which squeezed out shaded water as
you stepped upon it. The area was enclosed completely; if somebody had wished
to, they could watch down upon me, through one of the countless windows that
lined the walls.
On the far side, there was a raised
area; built of dense blocks, they were not held together in any way, merely
piled loosely upon another. Atop of the blocks were a group of oblong
containers, filled with nothing but overgrown mushrooms. I fairly enjoyed the
soft touch of mushrooms against my skin; back home we often used to gather
them; I was always the first to volunteer to slice them, ready to be cooked; an
uncommon habit I suppose , but we all have them.
Reaching towards them, they began
to move as my hand came close; each time I tried to hold onto one, they quickly
whisked the other direction. Becoming fed up, I went to sit down.
I swung out my arms, as the chair
I was sat upon broke, with the sound of twisted wood. I heard a titter of
laughter as I fell. Looking up I could see the mushrooms were staring at me,
their bodies bopping up and down as if they were somehow doing a one-legged
dance. Their eyes were large and green, extruding from the sockets that had
appeared.
“Hello? ”.
“Hello, hello, we say hello, with
the voice that we hold we say hello”. The mushrooms sang, high at first, the
last giving a very deep hello .
“What… exactly… are you? ”.
“We are the mighty mushrooms, the
mighty mushrooms we be; here is thump and lump but do watch out for trump;
ratty and bratty, did we introduce you to fatty? ”.
“Ok… I am going to leave now… ”. Hastily turning, I went back into
“I hope it will serve you well my lady … ”.
Upon entering my room, I would
have found a home for my items, but due to what had ensued, I only had a few
left; which did not include the dagger my father had given to me. My
room was airy; a few objects were placed about my room, a single bed, the
quilts of which were a murky brown colour; stained and with burns throughout.
There was a wardrobe for my clothing; well I was certain that would not get
used, unless of course I decided I wanted to walk around exposed, ready in
waiting for all whom dare to see. Behind the door was an aptly sized table,
with a selection of books thrown about.
My window was quite peculiar; extruding out in bizarre directions; only held together by eroding
screws, some of which hung loosely.
Despite the appearance of the
bed, I chose to rest upon it; it would possibly be the only chance I got until
this evening and I have not slept in quite some time.
As soon as I laid down upon the
bed I immediately noticed something untoward and it was not the odour from the
under washed bedding, it was the frame itself.
Standing back up, I walked to the
end of the bed, pressing down onto the frame; it did not move an inch, but on
closer inspection I saw that it was slanted and so also was the whole of
the floor.
“This will be a remarkable
experience”. I said to myself, as I sucked on my lower lip.
Stepping back over, I lowered
myself, deciding to position my body to the side of the bed, which was a
fraction straighter; keeping myself level headed was always a desirable trait.
A few hours passed by, waking up,
then falling back to sleep again; having dreams that seemed to have no
connection with any event in my life; ultimately arising as nature called me to
duty at the most inconvenient of times.
The sun was beginning to set and
the town crier was bellowing words in a strong accent that only the local folk
could clearly understand. Time to explore I thought to myself. I walked to the
end of the hallway, seeing sunlight I chose not to venture downstairs, instead
veering to the right, coming out into a raised garden patio. There seemed, at
first, to be nothing exceptional about this area; half of the plants had
withered away, the chairs were longstanding and half broken and the stone slabs
upon the floor were layered in moist moss, which squeezed out shaded water as
you stepped upon it. The area was enclosed completely; if somebody had wished
to, they could watch down upon me, through one of the countless windows that
lined the walls.
On the far side, there was a raised
area; built of dense blocks, they were not held together in any way, merely
piled loosely upon another. Atop of the blocks were a group of oblong
containers, filled with nothing but overgrown mushrooms. I fairly enjoyed the
soft touch of mushrooms against my skin; back home we often used to gather
them; I was always the first to volunteer to slice them, ready to be cooked; an
uncommon habit I suppose , but we all have them.
Reaching towards them, they began
to move as my hand came close; each time I tried to hold onto one, they quickly
whisked the other direction. Becoming fed up, I went to sit down.
I swung out my arms, as the chair
I was sat upon broke, with the sound of twisted wood. I heard a titter of
laughter as I fell. Looking up I could see the mushrooms were staring at me,
their bodies bopping up and down as if they were somehow doing a one-legged
dance. Their eyes were large and green, extruding from the sockets that had
appeared.
“Hello? ”.
“Hello, hello, we say hello, with
the voice that we hold we say hello”. The mushrooms sang, high at first, the
last giving a very deep hello .
“What… exactly… are you? ”.
“We are the mighty mushrooms, the
mighty mushrooms we be; here is thump and lump but do watch out for trump;
ratty and bratty, did we introduce you to fatty? ”.
“Ok… I am going to leave now… ”. Hastily turning, I went back into
Similar Books
