I have been awake for maybe three hours now, in this strange house. Completely alone, save for the dead body, and I have no idea why. But I should start at the beginning.
Some hours ago I woke from a deathly slumber. One so deep that even dreams could not reach me. I awoke groggy with a throbbing pain drumming from inside my skull, laying upon a solid wooden table. To my side only a few feet away, sat a very similar table; atop of which lay the body of a man easily into the twilight years of his life.
I close my eyes and try to remember how I got there, but the only memories I can muster are flashes of intense agony. Tortured in ways I could never conjure from imagination. These horrible visions subside the moment I open my eyes. Becoming echoes that fade back into obscurity. I shudder.
In fact, strangely I am neither cold nor hot. I notice for the first time, that from head to toe I am numb. I run my fingers over the table and nothing, as though I am meat floating in tepid water.
I think again about how I got there. Nothing. I try to remember anything about my time before waking in the room. Only pain. I try to think about something simple. Who am I?
I don’t know?
I, don’t know.
I figure there must be answers in this room somewhere and for the first time, I pull myself over to stand. An intense agony rings from deep in my bones as I drop my weight on to my feet. The pain radiates through my entire body and I feel woozy, grabbing the table before I collapse.
Regaining my composure, I look around the room, hoping something will jog my memory. The room is dark, illuminated by a single light hanging down in the center of the room. The floors are wooden and scratched; weathered from years of use. The walls, beyond the shadows, are covered in peeling wallpaper.
There is an old wooden writing desk off to the side that I decide to investigate. But before I do I need to check the body. There are no signs of life but I hope their face will awaken something. There is a strange feeling of dread as I walk over to it. I’m still a little shaky on my feet and not being able to feel the floor is a little disorientating, like stepping in the dark. His head is facing away from me and I need to move right around the table to see.
As I look upon the old face, something ancient and primal twists up inside me. A fear passed down from my ancestors. For a moment I recognize him; there’s a familiarity in those glazed, blank eyes. It’s a face I know well, but seeing it like this seems wrong, like I’m looking at a painting of a photo. My headache begins to throb louder in my head and I have to look away before dizziness overcomes me.
Checking the table, it is empty save for a pile of several papers strewn across the top. They are hand written notes in a language I don’t immediately recognize. There are strange symbols drawn around the pages along with messy diagrams and alchemical symbols. On the final page I see a drawing of two bodies side by side above an intricate circular design. I look back to the tables and from this angle I see it. The same design, scratched into the floor. Tiny symbols are drawn around it, stained a dark burgundy. Inspecting them closer, they look almost finger painted, and globular like -oh god- blood.
I need to know more. I need to find out what happened here.
I try the door handle. Part of me was expecting it to be locked but the door opens with a slight creek. The hallway is dark, the only light coming from the room I just left. Covered in thick shadow, the echoes start to sneak back into my mind. I can almost hear an inhuman voice laughing in the distance, speaking words I don’t understand. And the heat. I remember so much unbearable heat.
I arrive at another door. The journey had felt like it lasted a lifetime, though it was only a few feet. This door, like the other, wasn’t locked either. It led to a bathroom of sorts. Empty of anything personal. Only a grime-covered, claw-foot bath and hand basin occupied the small room. Above the basin I find a wood-framed mirror, dirty from built up dust.
Wiping the mirror, I look into my tired sunken eyes. But they are not my eyes. That’s not my face. I have no idea who that is, but I know it’s not me.
Panic begins to swell in me and I race out of the bathroom. The sounds of my bare feet slapping the wood ring through the hallway as I check the other rooms looking for someone, anyone to answer the questions screaming in my head. But there is no one. Each room, as empty as the last.
Just what the hell happened here? I fear the only person who may answer that, is lying dead on the table. Leaving me here alone in this empty house, haunted by horrible visions of something I wish I couldn’t remember.