Work Text:
If you were to stumble upon the old abandoned farm, hidden amongst the overgrown crops; what would you think? Would you wonder how such a vast plot of land could have become so neglected? How a once proud barn has become nothing but a dilapidated, rotten husk? How a once gorgeous house had fallen into a state of disrepair? Perhaps you step inside, seeing the rotten floor; littered in feathers. An awful stench would assault your nose. You would see furniture- crafted from human bones. Skulls used as decorations, femurs used as armrests. Cobwebs would cascade from a pelvic chandelier, dangling in your eyes.
Hollow creaks would echo in your wake as you carefully step on the rickety stairs. The stench would grow stronger, unbearable- and you’d cover your nose. One decaying door would reveal two corpses. Layered in the same thick cobwebs that decorated the chandelier, nothing but bones. It wasn’t the room from which the stench was emanating. It was the other door, three steps away. If you were smart, you would’ve turned tail upon seeing the bones. Say curiosity drives you forward. What would you expect; behind that closed door? You’d press forward, twisting the dusty knob.
The smell would become overwhelming. Bile threatens to flood your mouth. There’s a thick fog within the room- dust, you notice. Coughing, you’d wave the particles from your line of vision. The sight before you would have been horrifying; had you not seen the previous horrors.
Two more corpses. It would appear to be a young woman and a man. He was seated bedside, clutching her rotten hand in his own. Hollow, empty sockets somehow show anguish, sadness. It seemed that she went peacefully, but you didn’t know the circumstances. She must have passed first, leaving her mate to wither away in mourning.
While the sight of the deceased couple would make you shudder, catching glimpse of the rotten, leathery mask in the woman’s hand would intensify the feeling. It seemed to be made of human skin, older than what clung to the pair’s bones. You’d ponder the exact story that they left, as you’d back out of the room; leaving it as you found it. You’d retrace your steps.
As you descended the stairs, you’d catch a glimpse of a picture frame on the wall. You’d pause and pick it off its hook. You’d have to wipe the dust off of the glass to get a good look at its contained photo.
Your eyebrows would raise as you took in the sight before you. It was the woman; alive and well. She was beautiful- thick dark hair, a gorgeous smile. The white sundress she wore and the flowers she clutched gave you the idea that this was her wedding photo. Her groom’s face was ripped out; but he was wearing a nice suit, holding her to his side. At least you could conclude she was happy. You would almost be able to feel the love between them radiate from that picture alone. You’d replace the frame back onto its hook, and take your leave.
The story of the two lovers in the dilapidated horror house would forever be in the back of your mind. Maybe someday their secrets would be brought to the light.