PixelJail

Guest Artist: Rook-07

He long ago escaped Misery Manor, and for a fleeting moment thought that he was okay. He would be safe, free, never again to return to the twisted sadism of Serena’s domain.

Yet he was trapped. Helpless to escape the mazelike woods surrounding the Manor, the contorted moon mocking him from above as his very path seemed to twist in on itself and the trees shifted and chased him. Escaping the manor didn’t bring him any freedom or safety, just loneliness. He began to miss his screams. The other screams. The feeling that he was in a house, suffering maybe, but suffering with others. Now he was simply suffering.

After longer than he could even measure out, he came across a lake, with an old run down cabin. No one seemed to have lived in it for years, decades. It was ancient and hollowed, full of cobwebs and dirt and silence. Lonely still, but he felt safer from the Trick Trees chasing him, sheltered, and given privacy from the watchful moon always above him.

He made the cabin in the woods his home, surviving there, but aimlessly. It took him forever to find, but now that he had he somehow knew how to get back to it whenever he wanted, any time. He felt in control, stronger, safer, he had a home in this nightmare land.

He collected planks and wood, by sneakily returning to Misery Manor for occasional supplies. He dared not go too far or get caught, he was comfortable enough to take the risk now, but he was also comfortable enough with his new “home” that he dared not get caught and return to his life of abject slavery.

But he still longed for the suffering and screams, for the company with others, for the camaraderie of agony.

Even in the shelter of his new cabin, he couldn’t sleep. He couldn’t dream anything sweet, only nightmares of the silence and the forest chasing him.

Over the days and weeks and months and however long it was, the cabin began feeling more and more like a home. The stolen wood from the Manor brought some of its mystical properties with it, giving a dark life to the cabin beyond just the firelight. The rooms within it warped and twisted in concert with him, a mini maze that wanted what he wanted. He felt supported, and safer than ever, and empowered.

But he still missed the screams.

His quiet suffering haunted him, ached him. He still couldn’t sleep soundly. It was confusing at first, to miss and desire screams, But after this long, it instead consumed. He needed it.

And then she came running into view, crying and screaming, begging for help. A relief at the sight of the lake, away from the insidious trees, and a cabin, a normal human, not a witch with an orange scarf. A regular man, who could help her at last.

She was so happy to see him in fact, that she immediately stopped screaming.

While they talked and she recounted her story and gathered her breath, she was so relieved that she was smiling.

But not screaming. Not crying. Not suffering.

It was then, that he understood what was missing from his life, and what he needed to do. He would take this girl, and take anyone else who found their way to him, and give them shelter in his cabin, his own personal maze, and keep them there with him. Keep them screaming. Keep them suffering with him. They would all cry and scream, and he never needed to worry about it ever ending.

Now that the Samhein forest knew to send them to him, it  would supply him with all the screams he needed for sweet dreams at last.