Exploration

Alexander felt the sensation of a stinging pain, almost as if someone tripped over him. The pain licking up his sides as he jolted awake, he was already partially awake however the action of him sitting upright announced to the world that he was indeed fully awake. ''Ow'' He winced in pain as his head shot up, staring at the tall walls surrounding him before his gaze faltered slightly. He looked in the opposite direction before picking himself up and brushing off all the remaining dust on his clothing. Alexander had no idea at all of what it was that woke him up, and yet he shrugged it off as if it was any other day. 'Must be the wind playing tricks on me again...' he thought. Then he caught a glimpse of the house getting lighter further down the hall, towards the dauntingly long stairs and shyly walked towards it. This was not his house, not his manor. And yet he wondered if he could reside here without permit.

Alexander awkwardly chuckled as his feet dragged him towards the steps, every step he took feeling heavier than the last. The steps felt endless, when they were actually really short. Perhaps he just wasn't used to walking up steps, as his job clearly described the brutal deaths that took place on them. He wasn't scared, just, yes he was scared.

Missing the second floor accidentally, he reached a small room at the top of the building. Alexander shuddered slightly at the sight of this area and yet the place he decided to seek refuge in was the attic. It was by far the most infinite part of the house that he saw infinite possibilities in, although the manor was not his, he believed that he was welcomed as his presence in the hallway did not bother anyone... Well, except that no one was actually there to say anything to him.

The attic could have done with a little dusting although it was pretty clear, light cascading from a vaulted ceiling, the beams meeting in series of arches. All that was there was a chair and a table, or at least that's all he saw in the dark. The table seemed to have been painted on so many times it became a rainbow of sorts, chaotic may have been the correct terminology, but it was such a perfect description of his thoughts on the place. Chaotic. 'Whoever was here must have liked art...' This seemed like a creative area, isolated and quiet. Alexander didn't know if he enjoyed this sort of silence, perhaps he did. It wasn't bright or loud, it was more peaceful and a mixture of light and dark that created an ombré effect. The dust particles created the perfect scenery.

He quickly dropped the shovel and bags that he was carrying, finally realising that he forgot his blanket back in the hallway when he slept, but he didn't care. Not like it mattered anyways and besides, it seemed like this manor was so big it could fit anything inside it, so of course they had spare blankets laying around somewhere, right?

He began to let his mind wander, making him wonder, seeing as no one met him and he didn't speak much in the hallway, he wondered what everyone thought of him, if there even was a person watching him or here at all. "Rumors are more terrifying than illnesses..." Alexander muttered under his breath. He decided to recline into the chair, shoving his belongings to a corner in the makeshift room. Fingers tracing the 'paintings' surrounding the table as a chuckle left his mouth. ''I wonder...'' He started as he stood back up before falling back onto his chair. ''Maybe later...''

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It's all too easy to tell someone I love you, but when have people actually meant it? He slowly brought his right arm to his chin, now in a thinking position as he wandered around the pitch black space. ''Mum...'' He said in a deep, fading voice. The fires smoke smelled like crisp cedar wood. The logs crackled and hissed as the flames licked up the sides, reaching upwards to claim the broken and battered logs as its own. The coals beneath it resonated with a faint glow of orange and yellow brightness, burning hotter than the fire itself. He gazed at the inferno, his hands pale in comparison. lions and lionesses grabbing a stick and forcing it into the flame, begging for it to bless them with a bit of it's majestic light. Then quickly running after a small boy with white hair and his mother. 'The white haired boy was me, and the mother was of course my mother. I never really knew why they despised us until recently. More like, they despised me and my mum had to pay the price...' He watched as villagers ran past him, having the same dream almost every night. If you could even call it a dream... The boy and woman were surrounded, and he stared in hate and disgust, turning his head away as he heard the screams of his mother as his frail body crawled away from the scene. He then woke up, hair wet and clothes sticky. ''Never again.''