Torn Pages "House of Perilous Memories" Ch. 1

"Why does my face hurt so much?"

He sat on the couch, staring into the interior of his beautiful house. He thought about things that he could change to make his charming corner a real paradise. The rays of the morning sun peeked through the window, illuminating the top of a small table set right next to the sofa. On the oak, counter stood a can tied with rusty chains. A horrible odour of rotten meat was coming out of the metal container. The man looked at the can with regret. 'My face hurts ...' this strange thought echoed in his head. He stood up intending to go to the bathroom, where the painkillers were hidden.

"The cure for life"

He stared at his mirror image, trying to find his face effectively hidden by pristine white. Sighing, he pulled a cotton handkerchief out of his coat's pocket. It was embroidered with tangled patterns that were difficult to read. He began to wipe the glass of the mirror, with each passing moment his hand's movements accelerated. The force with which he wiped the mirror caused it to finally burst, splashing sharp pieces around the bathroom. Bloodstains appeared on the handkerchief, reminiscent of blooming roses. Tighter pressing his hand, he looked into the shelf previously protected by the mirror. 'Here it is!' He said, clearly relieved. He took the drug without thinking, immediately feeling medicine's properties.

"The walls can hear even a whispers"

He was huddling in the corner of the guest room. He looked, once at the chiming clock facing him, once at the closed door. He thought about the desires of his past, desires he could never fulfil. The jade statue of Charon effectively deterred him from fulfilling his murderous thoughts.

He was afraid of White Day, the apostle heralding inevitable doom. How many times he looked at the faded picture of hunting pursuit from his youth, the more he felt depressed. He couldn't think about it, the walls would know about it immediately. He needed another way. He rose to his feet, staggering in his step. He tried to get to the bookcase, which was placed right next to the balcony. When his hand touched the dark wood he felt fear disappearing from his chest. He looked into one of the drawers of the bookcase from which he pulled out an old, dusty notebook. It had no hereditary symbols, no stains after possible use. The notebook was clean, not what his soul was...

"Cherry Ballad"

He was sitting in the backyard. He looked at the orchard abundant in the cherry trees. He clenched the found notebook in his hand. He wanted to delve into the secrets of nothingness, this notebook was to help him in this. 'I'm looking for my family!', the man shouted in an unexplained direction. His voice echoed between the fragile leaves of the trees. The forest responded in the chorus as if the whole village had gathered to perform an exorcism on him. 'Looking for redemption, you will finally find it. Look out for daisies, a sign will come from her.' The forest began to take on dangerous shapes, resembling clusters of people, looking at him angrily. Bitterness glowed in their eyes as if the man in front of them had committed a deed worthy of their greatest damnation. Ahead of them came the ghost of a little girl, dressed in a ragged coat, with a black eye and blood streaks seeping from her left shoulder. 'You were looking for me. I was looking for you too, but I couldn't find you.', as fast as she appeared, the spirit disappeared, without a trace of his presence. The only sign she left behind was a memory. The orchard returned to its previous state, again it was only a beautiful view of cherry blossoms.

"Fire Tongues"

He was sitting in the living room, again looking at his beautiful home. His immortal beauty was to shine forever, like a pearl ring on the finger of the dearest person. However, it was only hope and dreams, an expression of his wildest subconscious. He set the notebook on the table, next to a tin can with rusty chains. He sat in silence, loved this impenetrable peace. At some point, the silence began to form into the darkness enveloping the whole house. He opened the notebook, which turned out to be empty. He watched it carefully, and finally, his lips began to burn. The fiery letters formed in the air like firelights, and after a while they fell on the pages of the notebook, setting it with fire as angry as the words spoken. A raging flame gently embraced the man who was muttering furiously under his breath. Chaos quenched the silence that was poured around the room, which was completely charred. Now, he understood just how powerful curse is to exist.

"White Flower Vindictae"

Searching for revenge, for which he could not find the answer, he went into the darkest depths of his subconscious. He felt anger inside him, but he could not locate the place from which this emotion originated. 'I was looking for you here when your little face was filled with life.', the thought of the mourner drew a foul plague on him. As he opened the cellar door, he felt a burning fragment of sin in his heart. He set his foot on the first step of the staircase, leading down to the basement. With every step, the pain in his chest grew. Falling, he stained his face with blood. He wandered ahead in the darkness of the basement, which ended in his next fall, which caused the ruination of his soul. He reached his destination, aching, followed by blood trails. He no longer felt physical suffering or fatigue, too closed in his mind. It told him that the end of the road would soon come. With a loud moan, he opened the huge oven door. He looked inside to put his hand into the flames after a while. After a few seconds, he took the glowing coal out of the metal beast. He put it to his chest without any fear. 'Forgive me for what I have done to us, my love.' The cornerstone has cooled and a majestic white-coloured flower has emerged from within. 'This is the dimension of my agony, the sweetest Vindict.'

"Verita Serum"

He was sitting in the living room surrounded by white flowers. In his hand was a can, still tangled in chains. A lot of thoughts went through his head. All gathered around the beginnings of his history and his actions. He only wanted to look inside the universe, he had no intention of taking omniscience with him, yet his actions led to unwanted sin. He tore the chains surrounding the can, rubbed the lid and read aloud the inscription 'Verita Serum'. Memories of his past hit him like an obsessive demon. He fell to the floor, trembling in pain and fear. Black lightning struck out of the can, which ignited the wooden elements of the living room with a white flame. The fire quickly spread throughout the house, engulfing it like an Egyptian harvest plague. A village cluster ran into the house worshipping the cataclysm. One of the peasants carried the body of a girl on his arms, from which the soul slowly escaped. She lay motionless, like a theatre doll, without strings controlling it. Single words came out of her cold blue lips. 'It's... true... creator almighty... dies...'

"Verum Mortem, Apocalypsis manifestus"

'You will not wash away your sin with trivialities. You are cursed. You can only work off your offences. You must find your way, the end of your worries... father.', the villager put the girl next to the charred corpse of her father. The cleansing white fire burned the entire household. Inferno equalled everything on its way with perfect accuracy. Despite the extensive wounds, the man got up from the floor to kneel beside his daughter's cold body. Bitter tears flowed down his cheeks when he felt the girl's last heartbeat. Before he finished crying, the fire came to an end, leaving nothing but ashes and painful memories. 'I must find redemption.' These were his last words before the man's body fell to dust. From the ashes again a beautiful house arose, just as frightening, filled with memories of a man of sin. The memory of a loving family whose life was stained with their own blood.

He was sitting on the couch looking at this nightmare. He was afraid of him, he was terrified of his former self. This time it was the moon illuminating a small oak table, on which stood the same metal can... empty. He was slowly falling into limbo, a space without a bottom. He knew that he would never be forgiven. Sin was too monumental.

'Looking for the end, he found a beginning. Now he stands at a point over which even God himself has no power... condemned to eternal damnation.'

The End of "House of Perilous Memories" Chapter 1