Oops! Questa immagine non segue le nostre linee guida sui contenuti. Per continuare la pubblicazione, provare a rimuoverlo o caricare un altro.
Oops! Questa immagine non segue le nostre linee guida sui contenuti. Per continuare la pubblicazione, provare a rimuoverlo o caricare un altro.
FOUR MONTAGUE AND CAPULET
(THE ROTTEN PLACE)
💀
DARKNESS ENVELOPED ESME, thick and suffocating darkness that made her skin crawl. Goosebumps covered her whole body, and every muscle in her body was taut. Panic resided in her chest, a pressure on her ribcage that made it hard to breathe properly. Esme looked around, frantically trying to figure out where she was — and even though she could hardly see past the tip of her nose, she could see vines and tendrils covering the floor and snowflake-like things drifting through the atmosphere.
Esme reached upward to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, but she paused, staring at her hand, at her skin, in horror. In this darkness, Esme stood out like a sore thumb, her skin looked even more white than usual in contrast to her surroundings.
Everything looked rotten, Esme noticed, like the whole place was dying (or already dead). The smell of decay was in the air, and she felt bile rising in her throat.
What was going on? Where was she?
"Hello?" she called into the darkness, hoping that somewhere in this place there was someone who could hear her, who could help her, hoping that she wasn't completely and utterly alone here — wherever here was. "Hello!" she tried again. But there was no answer. "Please." There was just silence. A stifling silence that seemed to swallow every noise. A dreadful feeling settled in her stomach.
She felt tears pricking in her eyes. What was she supposed to do?! She didn't know where she was, she was alone, and she was scared, so scared. How the hell did she get here—?
She felt something on her leg. A tug. She looked down and saw a thick vine snaking up her lower leg. A loud gasp escaped her. She tried to shake it off, to free her leg from the grip of the tendril, but it only tightened. A pain shot up her leg. Esme bent down, grabbed the vine, and tried to pull it away, ignoring that it felt slimy. Another vine moved toward her, to her leg. She tried to move away, but a yank on her already trapped leg sent her to the floor and multiple slimy tendrils started to wrap around her body — her legs, her arms, her torso...
