~*Bound*~

~*Small Cedar Chest*~

Sorry for the wait everyone, I have just been diagnosed with anorexia, so updates will be less often, but I will try my hardest!! Love yuh all!!

Nyx's favourite ballad------------------------------------------------>

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Racks and racks of old musty clothing surround me. I see nothing but thick darkness. I inhale the stale air, and start coughing. My arms reach out before me, hands brushing old rabbit skins, along with scratchy  polyester blends. Fingertips searching for something.

My eyes flutter and open. Old dolls dressed in faded satin sit on shelves, some in small rockingchairs, attending their small children in their laps. The room itself is big, but crowded with little trinkets and dank clothes.A thrift store. I walk into a small hallway. The walls were too close, ceiling too low to stand upright. Clausterphobia overtook my senses, my hands were ringing themselves across my neck, trying to pry it open. 'I have to breathe, I have to breathe!' My hands leave my neck momentarily to feel a wall.  Sliding my hand farther down it, i feel a ridge. A doorway.

I sling my body into the room and fall to my knees. I stay there, gasping for breath. When I feel like I have a grip on myself, I look around, still searching.By the looks of the room, it was a dressmakers. A sewing desk from the 1900's sit in the corner, a unfinished pinafore lying under the prehistoric needle. From peasant dresses to elaborate evening gowns, they had it all.

But one dress in particular fasicnated me. The needlework was exquisite, seaming the hem of the gown with an outrageous stitching pattern. It almost looked like someone tried to crochet with a needle and thread. It had a empire waist, with long sleeves coming to a point at the middle finger. The colour a brooding purple gave it a gothic look, meant to go along with a gray castle, steeples piercing through the clouds and light.

A small playful chuckle pull me from my daydreams. I scoured the room to find the matching person. The room is empty. I begin to turn back, and hear hysterical laughter echoing through me. Ontop of the old sewing machine I see a little doll. ' I don't remember seeing that there.' I thought. The doll has orange yarn hair, reaching its waist. Black button eyes stare into me as the painted smile continues to laugh. The doll wears the exact dress I was admiring, in a smaller form than it's original. Boisterous laughter erupts from its red mouth and I finally ask, "Whats so funny?" The doll just laughs harder.  But the laughs were no longer in a lilting tone. They were cruel. They worked their way into my being, shattering everything inside. I felt it all around me. My mind screamed at me, telling me how stupid I was, how I could have prevented this.

"I'M SORRY!"

I repeat and repeat until finally, I run into the many skirts of the purple gown. It was very quiet. A unsettling calm made itself a home inside my soul. A sharp pang shot up my torso. I look down to see a tiny cedar chest on the floor. I pick it up with growing curiosity. A thick layer of dust covers the top. My hands slide over the surface. I scream and drop the box. My hand was coveredd in splinters varying in size. They slowly epidemiced across the surface of my skin, coming throught the gooseflesh from the laughter.

I sit up as I wake. My breathing is heavy, but normal. I look around to find myself in the same motel, with Jer sleepig in the parallel bed. I rub my eyes and try to recap my nightmare. Nothing. The watch on my wrist tells me it's only 2:30am. I sigh and lie back down on the lumpy mattress. I close my eyes at a cheap attempt to sleep, but my fear still echoes through my body, as if I were hollow. Desite the cheap damask curtains, the room is fairly dark . I turn until my feet dangle off the bedside until my feet find the cold tile floor. I around, and stump my toe on the cursed bedstand. Jers soft snores help me find him, and I gently shake his body.