Chapter Thirteen: Suicide MemorabilliaMature

A fire blazed at the front of the room, the sickening smell of burning flesh filling the room. Knives were dangling on a rope hung across the fireplace, dripping little crimson droplets onto the black marble. Jewelled skulls lined the mantelpiece.

Hanging from the ceiling-beams were fraying rope nooses. There was a large cabinet up against one wall. The shelves, with their glass doors and brass handles, displayed chalices full of black-red liquid and polished, fancier daggers and knives. The drawers held razor blades, that had been roughly jerked from dead wrists, still covered in dry, crumbling blood, little bits of flesh still caught in them. A china vase stood on either side of the top of the cabinet, both full of withered roses and lillies. A huge bottle of black liquid, poison stood in between.

The bookshelf housed an archive of notes and letters, in varying lenghts and stages of decay. The walls were wooden, with whitewash in places, and perfect red handprints in others...

The End

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