Limbo
Page 2
he could only assume was charge the door. He stood up, and peeked through one of the many stab holes, and his guess was confirmed. He could see the armor in stance, getting ready to charge.
Edward stepped aside as the armor charged. On the first slam, the door groaned, but did not give. The suit charged again, with the same results. The hinges, however, became mangled, with some screws popping out. The suit charged again. Third time's the charm, and the door broke away.
Edward dodged the lunge, and ran out into the hallway. He noticed that upon breaking the door, the armor also broke into its various pieces. Edward's momentum and adrenaline caused him to lose balance and stumble, thus falling down the stairs. From the bottom, he could hear the uproarious laughter of the shadows at the top of the stairs.
Edward got up and looked at his grandfather clock. The pendulum swung back and forth, each swing cutting away at his sanity. Counting up the hours of the day, but counting down the hours of his life. He could only take so much. By now it was half past one, and Edward was beyond exhausted. To the shadows, this was all just a game, and there were no rules.
Edward sat in one of the chairs by his bookshelf, and suddenly a book fell off and into his lap. It was none other than H.P. Lovecraft's "The Haunter of the Dark". This, Edward knew, was a sign. A clear indication that whatever force was at play, it wanted to make an impression. "Is this what you call yourself?" He called out, looking around the room. "Do you wish to make an impression? Is keeping me awake for days and days not good enough?" He continued. He looked around the room, half-hoping for a reply. A few moments passed and nothing happened. Edward sighed and put the book back on the shelf. Upon doing so he noticed in his peripheral vision a silhouette.
He gasped and turned to face it, but again was met with nothing. He wondered if he was even really seeing things at all, if maybe he was merely hallucinating at this point. The pots stopped shaking and he made his way back upstairs to his room.
What he saw next he could not have prepared for.
The candle was burning bright and the flame was barely moving. The light illuminated the room just enough to see, in the middle of the room, a hanging body, back to the door. Edward stared in disbelief. He could hardly make a sound, with a lump in his throat. The body seemed tangible, as it slowly rocked from side to side, in sync with the candle flame. Edward found himself bolted in place, eyes glued to the body.
His gaze was only broken by the clock striking two. He quickly rubbed his eyes, but the body was still there. The chiming of the clock seemed to have no effect on this grim display. Edward couldn't find the courage to move any closer, in attempt to identify the poor soul. He finally took one step into his room. Immediately the rope was severed and the body collapsed to the floor with a dull thud. Edward couldn't believe it. Was this real? He couldn't decide. The body was still there, lying motionless on the floor, back still turned to Edward. The house was eerily silent as Edward slowly but surely began to make his away across the room to the body.
The candle flame seemed to emphasize each step, flaring and flickering until Edward was at last standing above the body. Most of it was covered in the darkness of the room, as if the shadows wished to conceal the identity. Edward could feel his heart pumping blood throughout his body like a piston. His feet grew heavy again, and he just stood there staring at the corpse.
It must've been an eternity before he knelt beside the body, and placed his hand on it's shoulder. Edward quickly grew more unnerved when the body felt real, and on top of that, it felt warm. Taking a few deep breaths, he looked around the room to make sure he wasn't being played. When he was met with a booming silence, he fixed his gaze back to the corpse, and took another deep breath.
One final breath escaped his lungs before he slowly turned the body onto it's back, letting the light illuminate the face.
Edward found himself scrambling back in confusion and fear. The body... it couldn't be... it wasn't possible he thought, as he yet again looked at the corpse's face.
It was his own.
'But I'm alive' he thought to himself, 'How can this be? I'm alive'. The candle flame lay perfectly motionless in the air. Edward couldn't look away, and thought this was another prank hosted by the night. But it wasn't, no matter how much he tried to convince himself, the body was real, and it wore his face. Eyes closed, and expressionless as it was, it was most certainly his own.
At that moment, the clock struck four.
"The sun is about to come up" Edward said to himself, eyes still fixed on the body, "Maybe when it does, this will all fade with the dark". His conversation was met with a loud crashing sound from downstairs. He looked out through his doorframe and saw the grandfather clock lying on the floor, with shattered glass surrounding it. The clock faced up, fixed at just five after four. He heard from behind him a loud knock on the wall, and his neck snapped in the other direction.
The body was still lying motionless, but on the window, was etched "TIME IS RUNNING OUT".
The sun was peaking just over the horizon he could see, a sweet relief to Edward. It was finally over.
As the sun rose and flooded the room, Edward noticed a transformation. The window became really dusty and worn, and everything seemed to gather dust at an alarming rate. By now the sunlight reached into the hall, and down the steps. Edward walked out and noticed the pictures were crooked and worn, covered in dust. Some portraits were even shattered. At the end of the hall, the flowers in their vases were withered and dead. Edward continued to the stairs.
Some of the steps were missing, or broken. He noticed his alarm clock, still lying on the ground, in the shards of glass. It was still stuck at 4:05, but it was covered in dirt and dust. The couch and chair cushions were tattered and ripped and torn, suggesting age. The whole house seemed to have aged at a rapid rate, covering everything in years of dirt and dust.
Edward noticed his headache was gone, a welcome relief. He heard more scratching at the window, and he turned around. On the window was etched another message:
"I AM PURIFIED"
Strangely, Edward found comfort in that message. He quickly washed his face in the sink before walking to his bed. He blew out the candle, and took one final look at the pile of bones and rope on the floor before lying down in bed. His eyes grew heavy, and from the other room he could hear the slow dripping of the faucet, like a metronome, lulling him to sleep.