Edith stumbles inside the gothic galore of a true occultist's wet dream.
Considerably larger than a FedEx truck, and having as much personality as a funeral, the room was white on the walls and black in everything else.
Victorian furniture is spread around in a lousy vision of professionalism: the bed was in a polymorous wedlock with a wall and a window; the sofa set was locked in a passionate, and quite possibly permanent, smooch with an empty kitchen isle; The cabinet drawers were cheating on the discarded food cans for they housed a television within. The walls were victims of loneliness, assault and dripping depression. The dressing table and stool were happily visiting the bed with their two children, side tables, playing with the lamps.
And everything beyond the claustrophobic family dynamic was empty space for Edith to wander around and contemplate whether the designers had buried their brain cells before opening the drafts made for this place. Or was the draftsman getting high with his bosses when he got this approved.
Nevertheless, the supernatural world was a sheer disappointment for Edith Chambers. Everyone around was rude and selfish.
She steps on a stool, jumps over the dressing table and falls onto the surprisingly cushiony bed. An eerie gust of cold wind kisses her nape. Edith shudders, eyeing the windows to find them bolted shut. With a big, obnoxious, lock on it.
"Pfft," Edith scoffs at the mockery of her captivity.
From family, Marlin, college to this...flamboyant supernatural castle of a prison. Edith could see a pattern of shackles always weighing her down. She tries to act free within her confines and everytime, the binds get tighter and the space more confined.
Edith wonders what Pristine or Estella might be upto. An artificial vampire. A beautiful wolf. And a stupid human. All prisoners of circumstances. Edith wonders what Julius did for Estella to get so mad at him.
Wait—
"If the supernatural world is real— then...did i...really...get on the bad side of the royalty?!"
She stares at the bland roof and sighs a moment. Then a thought creeps in: what if the bed has cockroaches or lizards or bugs in it?
Another: What if they use me as a blood bag?
And another: What if I become a sex slave?
The blind preposterousness of the third thought had Edith pinching her arms and gasping for air. An empty mind was the devil's home. It's true and what even would they use her for—?! In her perspective, she is the most useless leverage in existence.
Edith sneaks a peek inside her shirt and scoffs at herself. Nah. Can't be.
Won't be.
Right?
The room for contemplation narrows to void when the dressing table, standing in front of the bed, suddenly slides diagonally, bashing it's stool and the side tables away from its path.
It's wooden legs scratch across the floor making a screeching sound that Edith feels in her goosebumps. Her heart drops. Death was easy...but was she ready?
A wicked laugh sounds beyond the kitchen isle.
Edith shrieks.
The sheer possibility of anything and nothing has her brain in a frenzy. She stands to run but the bed speeds and crashes itself into the wall beside the door. Edith screams, like a madwoman, losing her footing which in turn bangs her head on the wall.
A warmth embraces her face.
"Bullseye!" A highpitched squeak breaths life in her ear. Edith shudders away, flailing her hands at thin air. But the cold breath is gone as fast as it came.
ESTÁ A LER
prisoners of fate
LobisomensVOLUME ONE ☑ Edith Chambers has lived a childhood of confinement with her family. Her only form of escape was her childhood friend and first love, Marlin Stewart. But after being publicly dumped by her aforementioned childhood sweetheart during thei...
