HOM - Ch. 2

Asta frantically gets up and reaches for the door knob. Her heart races faster as she grabs at air, realizing that there is no knob to the door. She starts to pound on the door and screams, "This isn't funny!! Let me OUT!" She continues to push on the door, even trying to find any other way of pulling it open. In no time she is sobbing and weakly pounding her palm against the worn wood. Hot, bitter tears run down her face as she leans against the door, and slowly plops to the floor. 'This…this isn't fair….why ME?!'
Her heart stops for a second as she hears a slight thud, "Who…who is there?!" She shakily stands up and strains her eyes, trying to see into the darkness. Pinning herself to the wall, Asta looks around wearily. She tries to comfort herself by thinking, 'It…could have just been an animal…that wandered in here.' She gasps as a single candle spontaneously lights up next to her. The flame is blue, and gives dim lighting around her. Asta then hears what sounds like heavy breathing. Her eyes widen and her heart beats hard enough that she can hear it echoing in her ears. She focuses on the candle, too afraid to look away from it.
Another candle is lit on the other side of her, catching her attention as she looks to the opposite side of the original candle.  With just her looking at the other candle, she had caught sight of the two, fiery eyes watching her. She froze in her gaze at the candle, petrified now and thinking frantically, 'What…was….that?' The eyes seem to blaze brighter, knowing that she has caught sight of them. Suddenly, the room is lit with a hundred blue flames, encircling the room.
The room is round, with two stair cases on either side; both are caved in and covered in ash. The walls have peeling, soot covered wallpaper with burned pictures hanging loosely from them. She looks above her and can see all the way up to the roof, blackened and worn at the railings. She looks to the middle of the room to see a large hole in the wooden flooring. Just a few feet back from the hole is a figure of a tall, lanky man.
Her knees get weak and her gaze is fixated on him. He wears an ashy white, long sleeved, button up shirt, with red cuffs and collar. His black pants and boots are blotted with grey ash. But it is not his outfit that has her in a petrified state; it is his entire appearance. His skin has a type of pallor to it. His hair is grey and black and unevenly cut; it is longer on one side and shorter on the other, with a few longer strands hanging in his face. One of his eyes is black with a red pupil, the other white with a red pupil. His nose is thin and pointed. His thin, scowling lips have stitching, and he sneers as she falls to the floor. She opens her mouth and nothing comes out; her scream lodged within her throat. The man seems to slouch and glares in her direction. His thin fingers are razor sharp as they twitch at his sides.
Asta presses her back to the door once more and is breathing frantically, "Wh-what…what are…you?" At the sound of her voice the man seems to growl and red smoke escapes his lips as they open slightly, "What I am is but a memory." She shivers at the raspy sound of his voice; sounding as if the strings were rusty and worn on an old piano. The man takes a few long, awkward steps forward and then he…disappears!
She gasps, as she has just witnessed the strange man fall into the hole!  Her heart and thoughts race at a mile a minute, as she tries to grasp what has just happened. She hesitantly scoots herself over to the edge of the hole, and looks down. It is a lot larger than she had expected. The hole seems to be endless! But there does seem to be a dim light, all the way at the bottom. She leans a little further over the edge, but a board breaks beneath her.
Asta's scream has retreated back into her throat, again, and her heart seems to stop as her life flashes before her eyes. She frantically grabs at the dirt, rocks and protruding tree roots, but nothing seems to help! The rocks and roots slice at her hands, making her retreat from grabbing any further. She can't breathe and she decides to close her eyes as the dim light grows closer.

~Asta leaps awake from her slumber, screaming and sweating. She anxiously grabs at her body to make sure everything is intact. She sighs with relief and plops back down on to a fluffy mattress. She chuckles nervously to herself and murmurs, "Oh, thank goodness…it was all…just a nightmare." She wipes her forehead with the back of her hand, she feels something rough rub against her skin. Her brows furrow as she inspects her hands, finally noticing the bandages. Her heart seems to sink as she sits up and looks down at them, eyes tearing up she starts to realize the horrifying truth. A small whimper escapes as she breathes, "It wasn't a dream!" She is still in the house.
She tosses the raged quilts off of her and place her feet onto a cold, concrete floor. Her shoes are missing as she shakily tip toes about, investigating her surroundings. She looks up to see more concrete, "Am I…in a basement?" She sees flashes of normal yellow light around a corner. She peeks around to see a figure at a desk. She gasps and crouches to her knees; it is the strange man.
He seems to be writing, maybe even drawing. She sees a large feather moving about in his hand and a small bottle of open ink next to his elbow. Still watching him she thinks, 'It could be a quill pen. But, I don't understand…' "All in good time, you will get all your answers…" his raspy voice echoes off the walls and ceiling. She falls forward in surprise and he stands up from the desk. He gently places the pen down and places the cork back on the ink bottle. His face is blank of any expression. He takes rough, deep breaths and asks her, "Why have you come here?"
Asta quickly stands up and pats the dirt off of her gown. A little insulted by his question she sarcastically remarks, "Well, it isn't like this was my choice….I was pretty much dragged into this place." The man stops and sits back down at his seat, "So, you do not wish to know the truth of this horrid house?" She tries to be brave as she uncomfortably crosses her arms, "Well…I mean…" She groans angrily and her arms flop around as she dramatically walks back and forth, "It is this stupid house's story that got me into this mess in the first place! I told a girl that maybe the stories of the murdering doctor were wrong, and she went ballistic and threw me into this stupid building!!"
The man's eyebrows rise in interest, "You do not believe the stories of this home?" Asta groans and plops to the floor, "Well, there is no real hard proof of this house ever harboring a murderous doctor; just one family's story, which may be completely wrong!" The man leans forward, placing his elbows on his knees, "So, how do you explain me then?"
Asta freezes and her face goes pale as she realizes that she has no clue as to who this man is or what he is for that matter. She looks up at him and squints her eyes, "You…you don't seem like a monster, or really human either." The man sits straighter, raising a brow, puzzled by her observation. Asta continues, "You definitely aren't a murderer…" "What makes you say that, Miss?" the man interrupts; he seems to have a playful look in his eyes. Asta stops and is puzzled by his gentleman-like tone of speaking with her, "You…you would have killed me by now." She stands up and cautiously approaches him, "and…a monster isn't nice enough, to heal me." She holds up her hands and then tightens her grip on the fabric, "also…you can't be human…because…I mean, look at you!"
He leans back in the chair and smirks, "Very well thought out. But who knows, maybe I am the bad guy in the end." He stares down at the quill pen for a little while until he lets out a sigh and picks it up once more. Asta looks over his shoulder and notices some sketchy drawings, "oh. So…you draw?" He immediately takes the papers up in his grasp and places them into the side drawer, "Not as…light-heartedly as I used to." He stands up and awkwardly walks past her. Asta follows him, even more curious, and less afraid.
Curiosity catches up with her though and she begins to ask questions without taking a breath, "Sir, what is your name? Why are you here? Will I be able to go home?" He halts in his tracks and turns to stare down at her. She nervously kicks at the accumulated dirt on the floor. He sighs as he turns back around and keeps walking, "You may call me Memory. I am a trapped soul of this house…one of six." He stops before answering her final question, "How badly do you want to go home?"
She stops and looks up at his gaze; he seems slightly worried and maybe even…afraid. She takes a deep breath and answers as confidently as she can, "I wish to return home, I need to get back to where I belong." Memory sighs and his eyes seem to sadden, "Very well. But in order to return home, you must face all five of the trapped souls. Each soul holds within them painful memories that they can use against you. They will trick you, trap you, and maybe even torture you; just to get a hold of your soul. If you give in to their desires, even for just a second; you lose your life, and you will be trapped here until the end of time. Do you understand?"
Asta stares up at Memory, shock written all over her face, "Wait! This is some joke, right? You can't just…oh I don't know…LET ME GO?!" He shakes his head slowly and blankly states, "It is the curse that has been plagued upon this house. They call it the House of Memory, not in honor of me, but because of the horrible truths behind the walls." He takes a candelabrum into his hand and looks over his shoulder at her, "Every section that you make it through, I will be on the other side. I am your guide throughout this journey. Once you have made it past each one, you will be given a piece of the truth that was hidden behind these walls." She looks forward nervously, "Al-Alright…so…what now?" The hall is long and dark, Memory steps towards the darkness and smiles, "Your journey starts now."