Chapter Text
Don't go in there, you'll become one
Freaky creatures
Monster party
Eyes of yellow, scales and feathers
Tails in tethers
Turn the lights off.
Looking up at the little house, you wondered why your parents were so insistent that you shouldn't have bought it.
It was a little, sweet looking house, painted a fading baby blue with yellow shutters in a just as soft shade.Condemned papers stuck to the door and caution tape was stuck in the overgrown front lawn.The roof was black, the gutters filled with dead leaves, and the windows were really the only thing that looked vaguely new.
And it was all yours, now.
Being careful not to step on the chalk drawings all over the sidewalk, you made your way up to the front door.Your things were already here. You could explore your new home. Unpacking could wait a little while, couldn't it?
The door creaked when you opened it-you made a mental note to fix that eventually-leading you to a small living room painted the same blue as the outside of the house.Your few boxes were scattered around the room, most piled up against the wall. It wasn't much, mostly just clothes, personal items, and your electronics.Living with your family meant sharing a room and furniture with younger siblings-so, the furniture was mostly left behind.
It smelled..weird, in here, you realized. Your nose scrunched up. Like stale air and mildew.
Before you continued further into the house, you opened up the windows, hoping the smell would leave soon. It reminded you of abandoned houses and the ghost stories you always read.
The stairs creaked as you went up them, groaning as if noone had stepped on them in years.You kept your hand off the banister as you went up them, eyeing the dust caked on it with disgust.Still, despite the dust and stale air, you didn't regret buying the place. It was, for once in your life, quiet.No stomping above your head, no screaming in your ears, just the creak of old wood and your own breathing.
So quiet.
The stairs ended in a hallway, the dingy brown carpet cushioned your footsteps as you went through it.The walls were covered in scuff marks where picture frames no longer hung-you traced them, imaging what must have been there once.A family photo?A drawing done by children?Diplomas from those same children, all grown up? The pictures were long gone by now, but eyes pricked at your back as you opened the door to the first bedroom, as if they were watching you still.
The first room was green.
You blinked, surprised at the sudden colour change. Contrasting so sharply to the baby blue of the rest of the house, the walls in this bedroom were a dark, earthy green.You stepped in, still staring at the green walls when you noticed that the window sill, closet door, and trim of the walls were all a soft yellow, matching the baby blue much better than this dark green. You found that funny, somehow. A chuckle escaped you as you imagined how the room had ended up painted this was, in such contrasting shades.It was silly, really, to imagine whoever had last lived in this room fighting with the person who had chosen the rest of the places paint, in the end getting what they wanted at the cost of the pastel yellow trim. For a moment you just stood there, giggling to yourself at your own silly thoughts.
When the giggles finally subsided you examined the paint closer, finding it chipped and peeling. It would have to be repainted. Maybe you could get a green paint in the same colour- with the same pastel yellow to match. It would be a shame to change it and, after all, the darkness of the colour would be nice during your anxiety attacks. It made the room dark even with the window and door wide open, and it didn't hurt your eyes in the least. You decided, then, that this would be your room, even if you never ended up repainting it.
You left that little green room, shutting the door carefully behind you. The quiet was so nice, and you didn't want to mess it up. Maybe now would be a good time to go back downstairs and get your things to put in your new bedroom. Getting that done before bedtime would be good, you didn't necessarily want to sleep on the ground tonight.
Just as you were starting to head back downstairs, something behind you hit the ground.
You froze, the way your brain does when trying to decide if you should fight or flee from something.Your hand was still on the banister, your foot was on the first step, and you just stood there, frozen. Whatever it was didn't move, didn't make another noise behind you.When you finally moved, keeping a hand on the banister so you didn't go tumbling down the stairs, you found yourself staring at a ladder.
It was the attic ladder. Blinking, confused, you stepped off the stairs and turned to fully face it.How had it come down?The pull-string wasn't long enough for you to accidentally pull it down when you walked under it-and if it was it would have happened when you went down the hallway the first time.Your eyes followed it up-into the black rectangle that was the attic door.
Without knowing exactly why, you took a step toward the ladder. There was no reason to go up there, right? You didn't even have enough junk to qualify putting some of it in the attic. Your eyes stayed stuck on the attic door.It was like someone had grabbed your hand and wouldn't let you go-not until you were in that attic.It was-this was wrong.It felt so so wrong, somehow, to have that odd feeling pulling you into the attic and you just letting it happen. But-you were curious.What had made the ladder come down?Curiosity killed the cat, they say, and here you were, letting curiosity bring down the knife.
The attic was quieter than downstairs had been.Not a good quiet, not the one you had wished for, but one that made it feel like there was a weighted quilt over your brain and cotton in your ears, the type of quiet that smothered you.It was dark up there in the attic, the only sources of light being the door you had just come through and a small, dirty window at the very end of the room.You climbed all the way up into the attic, into the smothering silence and dusty air.There right under the small window, was a small stack of boxes.
You tilted your head, wondering who these belonged to .They weren't yours, no, how could they be, when everything else was downstairs?Curiosity got the better of you again as you went over to that odd little stack of boxes, kneeling down the get a closer look at them.
Nothing was written on them, not even a name or a date or anything that could point you in the direction of who these belonged to or what was in them.Well, there was one way to find out.You took your keys to the top of one of the boxes and ripped it open with the jagged point.The tape came apart easily and you put your keys back, opening the box with your other hand.
There, at the bottom of the box, was a game console with a singular game cartridge on top of it.You picked up the cartridge, bringing it closer to your face to read the label on it.There was none, just two, faded words, written in black marker:
Majoras Mask