It had been five days now... he etched a crosswise mark across the four vertical tallies that adorned the oak paneling beside his bed.

"My bed", he thought. None of this is mine. I don't belong here. >This doesn't belong here.

Somehow, he found the impetus to stand again. The room was the same as it had been yesterday: rich, varnished oaken walls, deep, wine-red carpet, furnishings beyond the means of any man he had ever met. The bed, a spacious queen-size lain with satin coverings the same crimson hue as the carpet, sat beside a mahogany armoire; across the room was a chest of drawers, and a vast mirror set in an ornate, gilded frame.

Not a speck of dust was to be found in the room. Nowhere. The armoire, the dresser, and the deep closet set in the wall opposite the door were empty, all of them.

Every day since he had awoken here, abducted from his sleep and placed in this room in the depths of the night, he had ventured out into the house, always seeking a way out. He never found one. And every day, when he returned to the bedroom, it was as though he had never set foot in it. The bed would be made, all the drawers shut, and everything dusted.

It horrified him; he knew he was alone here.

Every night, though, unfailingly, he would return to the room; it was the only one he felt he could trust. It was the only place in the house, the vast, infinitely hostile House, that was not filled in every crevice with lurking shadows, the only one in which the half-glimpsed movement of some secret presence did not constantly elude his sight.

The House itself was not overtly malevolent; it was simply expansive, elaborate, and utterly devoid of any exit. No windows were to be found, and every door led only onward to a new room, or a new hall that opened up a dozen new mysteries.

He hated it.

But, he steeled himself, he would defeat it.

Lifting the oil lamp he had torn from a wall in a far-off hallway and pocketing a paper-wrapped sandwich from one of the multitudinous banquets he had found lain out in lavish halls, set for royalty and attended by none, he walked to the bolted door of his room.

>Perhaps a bit of explanation is in order... this guy has woken up in a massive mansion that he has never seen nor set foot in before, with no idea of how he got there. He hasn't seen another person yet, but it's obvious the place is being looked after by someone, or something; the dining halls are set and stocked every day, and his room cleaned and set in order. He's visited several dozen rooms already and found no windows, and no apparent way out; he feels trapped, but is resolute in his will to escape.

The house has some malevolent presence in it, something watching him when his back is turned, but he has no idea what it is; that bit is up to you guys, I guess. Take all the liberties you want; I'd just like to see where this goes.

deciding that he didn't want to return to his room, he made his way down a long narow hallway to a door. As he approched the door, he accidentally knocks an obviously cared for plant off of a shelf spilling dirt on the polished hardwood floor. He jiggles the knob on the door, it's locked. Wondering why, he quickly takes several steps backwards, then, he thrusts his weight against the door. After the third hit, the door flew open and there was a fire still burning in the fireplace. He quickly got back onto his feet and walked towards the book shelf. After examining the books carefully he realized they were covered in dush and must not have been used for years. He decides that he better get somewhere safe to sleep incase someone is waiting for him to go to sleep, because he feels that he'll be able to think things over better with a good night's sleep.

After waking up (having slept in a under a shelf in the wine celler) he made his way back up the dusty old cement steps to the kitchen. He heads back to the area where he knocked the plant over only to find the plant back on the shelf, and the dirt cleaned off of the dark hard wood floor.

Stricken with anger he screams "Who's here! Who is doing this!!!" Then his voice begins breaking down, and tears come from his face. "Please...please...help me!!". Hearing nothing but the echo of his own voice travel down the dark halls of the mansion. Wondering how he's going to get out, he hits the wall putting a dent in it...

He steeled himself, supressing his rage only through the knowledge that it would only confuse him further. Gritting his teeth and giving the wall a final pound, he turned brusquely and marched with grim determination further into the House.

Door after door, room after room, he searched. He continued. He went on.

No room was any different than the last; some tiny, some huge, some spartan and some furnished with the utmost lavishness, but they were all the same; all of them seemed to stare him down from all angles at once, and all of them rang with the silent echoes of torture that pervaded every inch of the place. For hours on end, he continued onward, until, at long last, he reached the staircase.

Sweeping across the grandest room he had found yet, the staircase was an affair meant for a palace, but here it was... leading up gradually at first, it soon split into a twin pair of arching stairways that sharply doubled back onto one another, twisting upward in a narrow, architecturally impossible double helix.

The stairs reached upward through a cylindrical well in the ceiling, some thirty feet overhead; whatever lay beyond, it was out of sight. Closing his eyes and steeling his jaw in solemn determination, he resolved to continue.

After what seemed like at least an hour, he reached the top of the stair.

The first thing he noticed was the carpeting under his bare feet. All of downstairs had just been hardwood. He walked down the halls, looking in more and more rooms. Although the things inside the rooms all blurred together over time as he looked into so many, it didnt matter. All he wanted was to see the sun, shining through a window.

Soon, he began to feel tired, and knew he should turn back soon. "One more door" he told himself, and swung open the oak board.

This room looked more familar than all the rest. it was just like "His" room, same fixtures, same furniture, same paintings on the wall. The only difference was instead of the red-wine color of his carpet, this was a dark, almost murky purple.

That, and one other difference. In the bed, was a young sleeping girl.

This vision shocked him, so he took a few steps back and rubbed his eyes. He wasnt sure on what to do, this was the first kind of human encounter since he had been at the mansion.

This vision had him mesmorized, without realising it he found himself sliding down the wall looking at her.
She looked young of age about eleven or twelve, she had long flowing brown hair and her skin was very pale, as if she had never been outside.
Her face was so angelic and friendly. he could stare at her all day.

After what seemed about ten minutes, he got himself together and decided what to do next.

His next decision was to wake her, or how to wake her.
He slid into the room, trying to be as silent as he could, the floor beneth him was heavy carpet so his footsteps were muffled. As he was making his way towards her bed, he was careful to keep and eye on her.

His thoughts were so confused, what was he going to say to her?, what if she screamed?, he was thinking so much that he didnt see the table next to her bed, he walked straight into in.

He shocked himself with the huge bang, as he was stood there cursing to himself, he heard a little voice, ' Who are you?'.

He wasn't sure, of course. He knew who he was at home, but this was far, far away from there.

The girl was young and attractive, and radiated a sort of innocent beauty; she seemed wholly out of place here, where the very walls seemed to follow one's passage with malevolent eyes. She smiled at him, and extended her hand.

"It's been so long since anybody has been here... it's been so long since I've been awakened."

He started to apologize, but she silenced him. "Oh, don't be silly... I've been so lonely here. This place is so huge, you know; there might be dozens of people out there, and I just haven't seen them. It's so good that you've come here... I've been lonely."


He stared at her, and the house stared back.

[edit on 9/22/2004 by Odd]