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stranger-who-writes-fiction · 4 years ago

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Aaaanyways, I wanna put on my comic-art-nerd hat and talk about panel-to-panel action in that Supergirl: Woman of Tomorrow preview because yes, I have been staring at it for days, and yes, I will continue to do so until it is released next month! XD

LET’S GO:

I apologize in advance for the funky formatting, there’s an art to tumblr text posts and I...have not mastered it. XD

It’ll go image, then analysis.

Also, just to be clear: I’m not doing this so much to be like, ‘WOW THIS IS GROUNDBREAKING, STUNNING, NEVER-BEEN-DONE!’ In fact, many comics do the things I’m gonna highlight/geek out over! Rather, it’s more about, like. Appreciating the construction of the pages, panels, etc.

Okay, so! Page 1, the SPLASH PAGE

Okay, so, admittedly, I don’t have a ton to say about this opening image, largely because it is one single illustration as opposed to a series of panels. But even then! It quickly establishes that we’re not on earth--the foliage, rock formations, and GIANT WOOLY FRIEND(?) give that away. Also! Said rock formations and wooly friend’s horns frame our new character RIGHT IN THE MIDDLE OF THE PAGE, letting you know that even though she is tiny, she is important. And, I will just say, I love the dust effects on the ground. The repeated semi-circle shapes evoke the feeling of rhythmic, galloping hoof beats, even without actual movement or sound. Lovely.

And now, PAGE 2!

So, I’ve highlighted panel 3, but before I get there! Panels 1 & 2 do such a nice job of giving us an idea as to the actual, physical size of these two characters, as well as the power dynamic at play. This random dude takes up the WHOLE DANG PANEL with his bulging muscles and is framed in an up-shot; in panel 2, Ruthye is not only shown from above--we’re literally looking down at her--she is also relegated to the bottom half of the panel. Additionally, it’s a great way to show the action of her turning to pull the sword from her belt, obscuring it from both our view and his, to bring out the ‘big reveal’ in the next panel.

Speaking of! Panel 3! Our establishing shot! We’re introduced to the full interior of this tavern. We see where everything is placed--walls, furniture, and perhaps most importantly, the various patrons!

Establishing shots are so important to have in visual media because they help us, the reader/viewer, to orient all of the various components within a sequence or scene.

It’s also helpful for the artists because then they can better maintain things like screen direction and continuity.

If we don’t have a shot like this, then subsequent action can become confusing to the point of distraction.

YOU WOULD BE SURPRISED how often this is neglected or forgotten in comics! Scenes will change abruptly and it’s like, ‘wait, wait, where are we?’

ADDITIONALLY, the establishing shot not only gives us basic spatial information, it ~sets the mood~ XD Setting! Atmosphere! Genre! It’s all here.

I mentioned this in my prior post, that the art gives off some intense fantasy vibes, what with the organic shapes, rough textures, and color palette.

Folks who’ve read advanced copies have described the book as a fantasy/western; that extends even to the series title design! The designer revealed that the western look of the text is deliberate.

So A+ to the art team for NAILING IT!

Okay, on to page 3!

Not a ton of notes on this one, but that’s only because the prior page has done such a solid job of laying out the space, as well as the relationship between these two characters WITH JUST WITH THE ART. (Okay, okay, the words help too. XD) Once more, we see this big brute tower over Ruthye, panel- to-panel; he’s always ‘large and in charge’ regardless of the angle. Even in that final panel! Ruthye is the largest element because she’s closer to us, but the guy is still positioned ‘above’ her, literally talking down to Ruthye from over his shoulder.

(And HMMMM. That unassuming stranger in the back there, underneath the lanterns that seem to act as an arrow pointing right at her...could she be...important?)

(Her tiny size would seem to imply that she isn’t...AND YET...)

PAGE 4!

MMMM them FRAMES within FRAMES!

Okay, but before I get into that, I do wanna briefly mention panel size and shape.

All of these pages (save for 1 and 7, which are full-page illustrations) pretty much stick to a very traditional panel structure. Each panel is completely enclosed, and there is zero variety in terms of shape. It’s all rectangles.

BUT. The size and orientation change--take, for instance, that ‘skinny’ horizontal panel up top, the way it perfectly suits the ‘shape’ of the elements/action being shown. It’s a close on Kara’s wrist/hand, reaching out for the sword in the guy’s belt.

I mention this because often, writers don’t dictate stuff like panel layout in a script. They will give the artist the number of panels, and what needs to be included in each one, but the actual, overall organization of the page? Totally up to the artist.

So! Really knowing what you want to highlight and convey is key, because you can use the panels’ size/shape/relation to other panels to ENHANCE those images, like that sword grabbing up top!

AND! Another thing I love about that panel in particular is the way that Kara’s hand and the sword make a tiny frame for Ruthye! Who is, again, VERY TINY!

I keep mentioning the size thing because it’s a nice bit of economical visual storytelling; the child character is going to be smaller than the adult characters anyway, but by calling attention to it repeatedly, we as the viewer are constantly reminded that this kid is small! She needs help! She needs to be protected! Which is like, the whole premise of the inciting incident. XD Good stuff!

(Also more dot eyes in comics that aren’t humor comics, please.)

There’s another frame down in panel 3 as well! Evely uses this device several times throughout this sequence; it’s such a great use of the multiple swords in the scene, AND shows that she can really pack all of the characters in there without cutting any of them off/obscuring them behind various objects.

And like, NO TANGENTS, which takes some serious skillz.

ESPECIALLY when you consider all that beautiful linework. LOOK AT THEM INKS.

...In particular, look at them inks in panel 5! The shading on the booth is done in such a manner that the ‘grain’ of the ink defines the perspective. We’re looking down at Kara, from above. This is a helpful little bit of orientation, as there’s not a ton of room around Kara to have any other perspective lines to help sell the angle.

ALSO, NOTE THE POSITION OF MR. BRUTE IN PANEL 4, AND THEN KARA’S EYELINE IN PANEL 5. It will be important in...

PAGE 5!

Allow me to explain:

In panel four on page 4, we see the guy reach for his sword, his body language revealing that he’s intent on moving towards Kara.

In panel 5 on the same page, we get that lovely down shot of Kara looking right up at us, the viewer. But also, the implication is that she’s ACTUALLY looking at Tough Guy, because in the next page, we see that he’s positioned himself right above her to swing that sword down!

(My apologies for the poor attempts at drawn annotations.)

There’s no action lines cluttering up the beautiful art; Not-Conan’s hair, rather, acts as the action line/guiding ‘arc’ so that we can better follow the movement.

Kara, likewise, doesn’t have any action lines on her, but her posture and hair act as visual cues to tell us that she slides over in the booth, out of the way of the sword.

In particular, the way her right shoulder/arm draws closer to her body, and the way her left hand comes up to offset the way she’s now positioned, really sells the ‘slide’.

More beautiful indicators of movement in panel 2; the hair, the action line on the sword, the torn fabric of Kara’s shirt.

Panel 3 brings more FRAMES WITHIN FRAMES! And, actually, as I’m looking at it? I think it could be argued that we actually have a FRAME within a FRAME within a FRAME!

First frame: Panel border, natch.

Second frame: Goofus’ sword, arm, and face frame Kara.

Third frame: Kara’s arm and sword work with Goofus’ head again to frame tiny Krypto.

LAYERS.

And now, a note about colors!

I said before that I love the palette at play. The earthy tones give the entire setting an organic feel--this is not a high-tech locale! We’re dealing with natural materials here.

BUT THEN THOSE BLUES!

Not only do we get that nice split complementary thing happening with the yellow, but it also signals the blue of Kara’s costume, a little hint of which is revealed in the final page.

And, like. It’s night time. XD

(I just gotta say, love the cold blue outside the window next to Kara’s table, contrasted with the warm yellow of the interior. Even though this is a bar, there’s still that element of like. Coziness.)

Also! Even though the overall palette is heavy on the yellows, Kara’s hair is more saturated and leans towards a warmer yellow, while the rest of the yellows in the scene are cooler. Thus! We have CONTRAST! Our eyes are drawn right to her.

And I know--I KNOW--that SG comics twitter already hates King because Kara’s DRINKING and personally I want more of the story/context before I pass any judgement but I must admit, the shapes? In panel 5? With Kara drinking in the foreground?

I kinda love it.

Also mmmm-MMMM, more of them SOFT BLUES.

Okay. PAGE 6!

Now THIS PAGE is what inspired this whole endeavor.

Because, okay. If I’ve not made it clear by now: I read a lot of comics.

And I generally enjoy all of the comics I read!

But, what I’ve found lately, is that if I don’t enjoy a comic, it’s because I, as a reader, find myself confused by the art.

Confused as in, the art is hard to follow.

That can be because the color design/ink work doesn’t have enough contrast, or the composition is muddled, but most frequently?

It’s poor panel-to-panel action.

When there’s no flow/connection between what’s happening in one panel vs. another, suddenly it’s on you, as the reader, to do a lot more of the work as you go through the scene. And sometimes! We don’t even have enough visual information to DO that work!

So when I read this, I was like, ‘ah, thank you, an easy flow of action for my brain to appreciate.’ XD

AND SO. Panel 1! Same stuff we’ve been seeing! The ink work, hair, clothing details, etc. all work to show us which direction each character is moving. Kara’s arm and jacket all point to her slamming that mug in the dude’s face; dude’s sword serves as a GIANT ARROW illustrating the path of his stab.

Not much to say on panels 2 and 3 other than: FACIAL EXPRESSIONS! And also, HAIR!!!

PANEL FOOOOUR!!!!

Love. This. Panel.

Again, I really love that there are no action lines slapped on top of this gorgeous art, all of the movement is conveyed in the inks, body language, clothes, and so on.

Like. There’s a conscious decision, here, to not have Kara’s hair obscuring the dude’s torso, and that’s good! Because his belt/uhh...kilt? Skirt? Is showing us the speed and direction of his jab; if Kara’s hair were in the way, it would break up the flow.

BUT THEN HOW TO SHOW THAT KARA’S DIPPING FORWARD???

Note the ties on her cuff, and the inks on her jacket!

There’s nothing special happening with Krypto, BTW. I just circled him because he’s a Good Boy who deserves to be noticed.

Panel 5, more of the same, the inks telling us how these characters are moving through space. ALSO, the length of the lines conveys speed without needing to add something distracting/obscure the art with a ‘blur’ effect.

Final panel! I. LOVE. THIS.

Particularly the movement in Kara’s hair, just. Beautiful shape language.

But in addition! You’ve got that LOVELY line of action in Kara’s spine as she flips him over, the sword likewise curved in the direction of the throw.

And of course, the dude is crumpling in the appropriate direction, bent in the middle as he collides with the table to--quite literally--complete the circle.

Also, just. The characterization here, is PHENOMENAL.

People (read: irate fans on twitter) have expressed concern (read: complained) about Kara having a sword. Some have even gone so far as to suggest that Kara’s basically a murderer now, because she’s using a weapon.

Never mind the fact that in an episode of JLU, Supergirl used both a sword AND a gun to defend herself while in Skartaris because she had no powers.

Except we see here that Kara DOESN’T USE THE SWORD to take the guy out, she uses his own force against him. She only uses the swords in the FINAL PAGE in a type of ‘yield’ fashion.

(This particular ‘fight’ sequence reminded me of Brainy’s fighting style in the show so of course that added to my overall enjoyment.)

Like, Kara’s got no powers here, she very well could have used the sword to defend herself, and would...kinda be justified.

But she didn’t!

Like. Even drunk and therefore out of it, Kara 1.) Steps in to help that kid and 2.) doesn’t use superpowered lethal force on the guy. (I mean, she can’t use her super powers anyway, what with the red sun, but you get the idea.)

And like, the flourish there, of the arms, the way the jacket swirls around her, like a gymnast sticking the landing, GAAAAAHHHH I just love it. It’s great.

Okay, FINAL PAGE, #7:

I mean. What more can I say? EVELY AND LOPES, MAN.

Just some top notch art.

(Also get it guys, it’s a LITERAL shirt rip! XD)

(And look! There’s that tiny bit of blue!)

But anyways, if you’ve made it this far, I applaud you, and thank you for indulging my desire to just. Geek out over one of my favorite comic artists drawing one of my favorite comic characters.

And just to like, reiterate, I’m not suggesting that this comic is THE BEST EVER or that it’s going to redefine the medium, or anything. XD Everything I’ve mentioned here is...pretty basic storytelling mechanics. Watch any movie, and you’ll see all this same stuff at work.

RATHER, this whole post is more about...admiring two artists who clearly know what they’re doing.

And they’re doing it so well! :D

TL;DR: I’m so excited that the Supergirl book has Evely and Lopes, guys. So. Excited.

#stranger speaks #long post #supergirl: woman of tomorrow #art analysis #comic art analysis #edit: whoops forgot content warning tags #cw: alcohol #cw: blood

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bomberqueen17 · 5 years ago

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mondays

i’m wearing accidentally too low-cut a dress to work today, and i had a shirt on with it and it looked ok at home but it’s hot in here so uhhh tits out for monday, i guess. hi!

[image description: what-was-i-thinking.jpg: the author, a white woman, sitting in a desk chair in a cluttered room looking slightly down into the webcam with an unimpressed expression, cut off at the forehead, and the central focus of the photo is how her cleavage is framed by the very cute but far too low sweetheart neckline of her royal blue dress, which a large ornate costume necklace does really nothing at all to fill in.] (bonus: whenever I move, my bra pokes out on the sides there and is glaringly non-matchy. whoops.)

It was really hot yesterday, unrelentingly so, which was hard for me because last week at the farm it never got above 70 and it was so cold at nights I was bundled up and had a wood fire going, so it’s like, seasonal whiplash. I did manage to have ice cream for dinner, though, down by the Niagara River, and we ate it while looking at the sunset, so that was nice and I think an apt celebration of the solstice. Errr, equinox. Whatever it was.

Then it was unrelentingly windy all night, which doesn’t really make for fantastic sleep. Going to be thunderstormy today, which has the nice bonus of making me not feel bad about not walking to work. I haven’t been, because my fucking foot has been fine if I don’t use it and cranky as fuck if I do. I keep thinking I should try again, now that I have better insoles, but there’s nothing worse than being a mile from home and half a mile from work and realizing I fucked up and should get off this foot, and there’s nothing I can do, and if i limp to try to spare the foot, I’m going to fuck up my hip again, and then I get to work and it sucks and I can take ibuprofen but then you know I’m going to have to walk home again. It’s the concrete, I think; I can walk miles in a day at the farm, but that’s on dirt and there’s climbing and walking and pausing. A long monotonous unchanging walk on concrete is a different animal.

I should just start riding a bike, but I suck at bikes and am a little scared of them, and I really really don’t want to ride a bike in traffic but would definitely have to, at least a little. I should do it, and I don’t even need a bike lock I can just cram it next to the closet up here and nobody’d care, but. Ughhhhh. I don’t like bikes! Something’s wrong with me and I don’t like bikes. (And rollerskating is out of the question, the pavement’s too cracked in too many places.)

ANYHOW I did can literally an entire flat of tomatoes yesterday, sweating over that dang stove-- ok, I didn’t can them, I cooked 1/3 of them down into tomato soup, and the other 2/3 I cooked down and froze in quart bags and a couple of old Tupperwares. So I’ve got tomatoes now for winter. I saved out four (4) tomatoes to cook half a chicken in a bed of vegetables with the tomatoes for liquid, and we’ll see how that goes-- we accidentally parboiled a chicken during packaging, and I nabbed it and cut it in half and froze the two halves separately, and so I’m going to make it for dinner for I hope two nights this week. (A whole chicken is like, four dinners, so I figure a half is two? Fair enough? And maybe the stock for risotto for a third? I have these fantastic golden beets for the risotto, and their greens, so...)

Dude had to go to the grocery store, and he went to two different stores for a total of six items, what even is our life. (ironically our food co-op does not have good granola bars, so he had to go to wegmans to get, of all things, granola bars. weird.)

I brainstormed my next upcycled garment but did not cut anything out. I’m taking apart an old silk Hawaiian shirt of Dude’s that’s somewhat damaged, and making it into the silk lining of a wool vest I’m going to make. It plus a damaged silk scarf. We’ll see.

#about the author #long post for ts #crosspost #canning #food preserving is solarpunk

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teruthecreator · 5 years ago

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macknerva time.... ill be back with some ship asks but feel free to use this as a place to put some random headcanons about the girls....

every day, every Ding Dang Day, cro walks into my house and proudly proclaims: Macknerva Rights! and for that, we (and by “we”, i mean the Committee Of People Who Still Own Griffin Mcelroy’s Rights, which you are on but ignore that) offer you this award, for being The Only Motherfucker Who Can Handle Me

their honeymoon phase lasts D U M M Y long (in fact, one would say it probably never ended, even when they eventually do get engaged). these two are just so damn excited about their relationship, they just want the whole world to know! they both always find reasons to bring the other up in conversation, just so they can gush about how in love they are. and if they’re in the same room? Game Over, Dude. it is PDA-Central, babey!! so much handholding and nuzzling noses into cheeks and little kisses dotted all over the others faces. mack tries to keep it professional at work, but some days she just can’t help getting Soft On Main.

don’t get me wrong, the two aren’t dependent on each other. it’s not one of Those Things. they’re just really happy to be together! and honestly if their friends were that bothered by it they’d stop, but no one can openly admit to how much of a relief it is to have mack and minerva in a relationship than to deal w them Pining forever. kirby repeatedly reminds himself, “just think of the pining, just think of the pining” when mack stops what she’s doing to coo at her girlfriend from across the theatre for the fiftieth time. he’s Very Tired.

mack has never been in a serious relationship before, and minerva’s an alien from another planet, so traditional dating rules and milestones are pretty immediately thrown out the window. the only reason mack hasn’t caved and asked minerva to move in w her is bc she knows how much minerva enjoys being surrounded by friends, and her house is kinda far. she has thought abt it before, and the domestic images that have come to mind left her red in the face and sappy for a whole four hours.

speaking of the two’s lack of dating knowledge, they both pretty equally are at a loss as to what’s considered a “date”. like, sure, mack’s been on a couple Tinder dates before, but those were never date-dates. and they never ended well, either, so mack doesn’t typically think of dinner when dates come to mind. a lot of the beginning of their relationship was hanging out and then one of them being like, “is this a date?” and the other not having anything to prove it isn’t one. after a while of dating, though, the figure out what they like and their go-to date activities are as follows: dinner at mack’s (w the Chosen Squad and their so’s, sometimes the rest of the Pine Guard trio will come w their so’s as well), nights on the roof stargazing, movie nights cuddled up on the couch, hiking trail (minerva’s gotta get her Runs in, and mack is just happy to watch her hot girlfriend sprint through the woods w her), or just driving around the neighboring cities to dick around (mack has recently gotten minerva into Knick-Knack Collecting so rip to duck’s already cluttered apartment).

i’ve mentioned this before, but it takes mack A While before she learns about Sylvain/monsters/Minerva being an alien. like, they are several months into dating before mack realizes something’s up. it is the dumbest fucking thing and everyone is so baffled as to how mack couldn’t tell right off the bat that something was up w minerva.

ned: she has glowing tattoos.

mack: i thought it was a trick of the light!

aubrey: okay, but, she has glowing eyes too, mack.

mack: i assumed that was just my gay poetic brain turning my imagery to life!!!

duck: aight, but she talks like she’s one’a those stereotypical aliens tryin’ to blend into human society.

mack: i wasn’t about to look the Hot Gift Horse in its Fucking Mouth, duck newton.

i’ve been thinking abt this idea all day so lemme just talk abt it rn: the first time mack has to leave on business, minerva is distraught. like, mack finally has enough leverage as a theatre owner/proprietor that she goes to New York to talk shop w a couple off-Broadway theatres (that she happens to still be connected to bc of her past endeavors), so she leaves for a week or two to just...figure shit out. she probably takes kirby (which makes minerva pout bc why does he get to go and not i, my love?) just to have someone there, but she leaves minerva moping on her couch as she hops into her truck w kirby already in the passenger seat.

“i’ll be back before you know it!” mack calls out to minerva before shutting the door. minerva is Very Aware of her absence.

she’s not mopey, per se, bc she has plenty of friends to keep her company. but there are nights where all she wants to do is cuddle up to her girlfriend, and then she remembers halfway to mack’s house that she’s not there. mack gets A Lot of voicemails begging her to come home soon. she can’t check her phone during the day bc she’s so busy (and also Kirby’s There), but when she’s nestled in her hotel bed late at night she’ll open all of minerva’s little texts and voicemails and just melts into a puddle right on the spot.

mack would probably never admit it, but Kepler has become so much of a home to her that the “home” she once considered to be the line of theatres she once frequented as an adolescent/young adult have grown cold and way too crowded. she misses her little nook of a theatre, where friends are bountiful and so is affection from one Particularly Lovey Set Builder/Girlfriend.

vice versa, minerva has to leave kepler for a few days without mack (her and the Chosen Squad leave on an epic quest to Finally Get Sarah A Fucking Sword). mack is not as openly despondent as her girlfriend, but she spends as many nights working in the theatre as she possibly can (bc going back to her bed alone, despite the fact that minerva only sleeps over a couple times a week, is too sad of a thought for mack) until kirby shoves a pillow in her face and loudly proclaims, “Sleep, Bitch”. she’ll send minerva her good morning/good night texts like she usually does, but sprinkled between those are little updates on her day/funny memes she thinks minnie might like/things that remind mack of her. minerva positively delights in these messages, and announces their contents to the squad w glee (unless they are for Minerva’s Eyes Only, in which she just smiles goofily at her phone for a solid twenty minutes).

when minerva finally gets back, mack silently just walks over and jumps into her embrace, refusing to let go until minerva took them to the nearest soft surface so they could cuddle.

this is all my Sleepy Binch brain has for rn in terms of random hcs, but feel free to send in whatever macknerva thots tickle your fancy, folks!!

#ignorance cloud on #mack attack tag #fellow keplerians #macknerva #thank u cro As Always for enabling me!#u a tru friend ily

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unto-myself-together · 6 years ago

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Of Stories and Songs: A Haunted Mansion Fanfic Ch 3

Check under the cut

May need to go back and read the first couple of chapters, as I have heavily edited a lot since this new chapter.

Authornote: IMPORTAT!! Trigger warnings have CHANGED as of this chapter, chapter 3. See below.

More authornotes:

Once upon a time, I was a child going through the mansion for the first time.

Looking up at the stretching room, I thought it depicted circus people. The tightrope walker was the most obvious. But there also appeared to be a human cannonball (person ontop of dynamite), acrobats (three men ontop of each other), and, though the final portrait gave me a bit of trouble, I concluded that she was a knifethrower. And she didn’t throw around her human target like she ought to have (she hit him dead on, apparently).

This theory was only strengthened when I saw Madame Leota, and all of the ghosts around that were dressed up (The opera lady. Julius Caesar). After all, didn’t circuses have costumes? And that so much explained the funny epitaphs on the graves at the end of the ride. Bea Witch? Dustin T. Dust? Such strange names, they HAVE to be stage names. And what sort of occupation gives you a stage name? Why, a circus of course! This was a mansion of circus people!

I’m older now, and I think I’ve pretty much rejected the idea that ALL of the ghosts were part of a circus. For one, I REALLY want Julius Caesar to actually be Julius Caesar and not someone dressed as him. And also I sort of had a conflicting view back then about the owner of the mansion that was incompatible with the idea that they ALL were part of a circus. Besides, a circus of 999 people in the 19th century seems a bit…unrealistic. So I digress; not every ghost here is from a circus. But there will be a circus, dang it.

The other strong impression of the mansion that stuck with me was the Ghost Host. The Ghost Host completely and utterly terrified me. Plenty of times I thought he was throwing thinly veiled threats in my direction, as in I legitimately thought he was going to kill me. Nevermind the idea that the ride was owned by Disney, I thought he was real and that Disney had hired a murderer or something here.

The emotions I wanted to evoke here, where he was concerned, is meant to be reflective of this. Existing barely on the fringes of your senses, it’s the anticipation that he’s going to do something terrible to you that makes it all the more terrifying.

Also in this chapter is both a reference to….a certain broken glass from the ballroom scene as well as a nod to a scene in the WDW version that was scrapped with the refurb.

As before, all artwork in this chapter was made by me.

The reference photo for the stretching room is: http://www.disneyphotoblography.com/2014/05/the-stretching-room.html

The reference photo for the hallway queue is: https://www.flickr.com/photos/cypress_phillies/5706355407/in/photostream

The poster is made up of several parts. Many of you will immediately recognize some of Rolly Crump’s designs for the original Museum of the Weird.

The lettering is based off of this Tokyo Disneyland Dumbo ad: https://i.pinimg.com/originals/7d/46/81/7d468119e6b2813b942afdf5c376a6e6.jpg

And the eye figure is taken from Memento Mori.

~~~~~~

Trigger warnings: ghosts, death concepts/discussions, murder, suicide, abuse, blood, lots of scary stuff (horror), implied sexual abuse, cursing (damn and hell), drug abuse, attempted rape (never completed; in a later chapter).

Brief mention of cannibalism in this chapter 3 (it’s never performed or attempted, just briefly mentioned in conversation).

~~~~

Table of Contents:

Prologue, Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3 , Chapter 4 , Chapter 5 ,

Chapter 6 , Chapter 7

~~~~

Ch. 3: The Bleeding House

~~~~~

“Kindly step all the way into the dead center of the next room please.”

For a while, the velvet voice lingered in the air. The cadence of each word seemed carefully chosen to reverberate in that very moment, in that very room, in just the perfect way.

And thus, both Karen and Mike were struck speechless.

For Karen, the abstract horror of a dark room holding a single, undiscernible figure didn’t go away, but there was music. She could hear music from the next room, clear and tempting like that of a party.

Come inside, it seemed to call.

It would have likely been enough to leave her wanting, dragging herself across the floor to join the strange figure, if not for Mike beside her.

Because Mike was less impressed.

“Forget that. C’mon, Karen.”

He tugged at her arm, and she was forced to snap back to reality as they both went back towards the door. The outside could still be seen; the storm brewing without reverence to the people within, with the thunder sounding every bit as powerful as the voice.

With a snap, the sounds outside deadened; the old oak doors had closed of their own accord just as the couple reached them.

The low rumble of the mysterious voice danced around the room, chuckling.

“There’s no turning back. . .now.”

Mike jostled the doors. “What the heck??”

Digging his shoulder right up against one of them, he shoved. And again. And again.

“Karen, come and push against it too.”

“It’s not going to open.” She said simply. She couldn’t identify how she knew that; she certainly didn’t want to know how she knew that.

“Sure it will; it’s not magic. We’ll get a running start and throw our weight on it together. On the count of three?”

Numbly, she nodded.

“One, two and—“

They hit the doors hard, could feel them give a little and bend in the middle as they should, before the doors seem to spring back and launch them across the room, sending them skidding across the floor.

Skidding for far, far longer than any physics should have allowed for.

For they had skidded right straight across the carpet….and all the way into the next room.

The dark room with the single man in the center.

The room that was calling for her.

“Three.” The voice mocked.

The light of the foyer, and their only escape, quickly grew dim as the sliding of a door shifted in the darkness.

But not long after the room grew dark did it grow exponentially bright again.

“So good of you both to join the great majority…”

They were trapped in an octagonal room.

Grotesque gargoyle statues, as watchful as prison wardens, surrounded them holding up candles.

And there were four prominent portraits depicting different people: A young woman with a parasol, an old woman with a rose, a stately bearded man, and a man in a bowler hat.

“Our tour begins here in this gallery where you see paintings of some of our guests as they appeared in their corruptible, mortal state.”

Karen looked all around the room, but there was nothing on the ground. No objects, no desks, no clutter, it was as if the room was only meant for the portraits.

“The man is gone.” She whispered to her boyfriend.

“What man?”

“The tall man….the tall man that was in the middle of this room just a few minutes ago. Didn’t you see him?”

“No….”

There was a pause in Mike’s voice.

“But….I can see that.”

She followed Michael’s gaze to the portraits on the wall, and instinctively grasped his hand tighter.

“Your cadaverous pallor betrays an aura of foreboding…”

The walls….

“…almost as though you sense a disquieting metamorphosis.”

The portraits…

They were…

“Is this haunted room actually stretching?”

“Yes,” She could hear Mike say, quietly under his breath.

“Or is it your imagination, hmm?”

The portraits all around them gave way to a more morbid sight. The young woman with the parasol, pretty and pink, was found to be perched perilously atop of a severed rope, inches away from an alligator’s open maw…

The man with the bowler hat was atop others dressed in a similar fashion, sinking into something that was labeled ‘quick sand’ on the side….

The stately man, with the ribbon-like symbol of his status hanging around his chest, was, in fact, shown to be in boxer shorts, and standing atop a lit barrel of dynamite…

And the old woman with the rose…had an equally grisly implication as she sat atop the grave of a man named George. If the bust was any indication, George had met his death when his head had met an axe….

She caught a glance up at the ceiling…And for a brief moment, a very brief moment, it drastically looked different. Instead of walls and gargoyle scones, there was a giant tent. Instead of portraits, there were long poles that formed a tightrope walk. And instead of a ceiling…There was a figure. Seemingly that same, undiscernible figure, suspended upside-down. Watching them.

And all very quickly, while the scene faded back from tents and tightropes to the room and portraits once again, the strongest image of a poster came to mind.

MUSEUM OF THE WEIRD CIRCUS AND SIDESHOW

COME SEE THE UNBELIEVABLE!!

A strange looking plant….A man that looked like he was melting…And an eye, all seeing and all watching…

She jerked from her reverie, immediately proceeded to bury her face in Michael’s shoulder, her arms shaking. These were the figures that graced the portrait, referencing what were probably different terrifying acts of the show.

“Hey, it’s alright. I’m here…”

Her boyfriend’s voice gave no indication that the same vision had been violently thrusted upon him, and she wondered about that. Why was she the only one seeing all these strange and terrifying things?

“And consider this dismaying observation:”

Was it a result of this place?

“This chamber has no windows and no doors, which offers you this chilling challenge:”

It was a mistake to come here. A very terrible mistake…

“To find a way out!”

The alarming presence of the voice lingering right in-between them caused the couple to diverge from each other.

Which, for all she knew, had been their ‘Host’’s intentions, as his maniacal laughter filled the room.

“Of course…there's always my way.”

The room went dark again. She could hear lightning from outside cracking the sky open, illuminating a mysterious space that somehow managed to exist beyond the ceiling.

And there he was.

The figure.

And just as before, his features were too far away, too masked by darkness to see clearly.

But he was watching.

“Oh, I didn’t mean to frighten you prematurely. The real chills come later.”

Karen could hear wood sliding on wood, and quite suddenly their ‘room with no windows or doors’ had a door. ….And the way out appeared to look much different from the way they came in.

“Now, as they say, ‘look alive,’ and we’ll continue our little tour. And let’s all stay together, please.”

She felt resigned to go along with it, but Mike held her back.

“We aren’t interested in any stupid tour you’ve got here, so you can just shove it. No way are we going any further than this.”

Contemplative silence.

“…Well. This is most certainly a first. But I would be happy to accommodate your request.”

The door began to close on them.

“After all, it isn’t every day that I meet a mortal willing to spend time here, in this very room. With me. For the rest of their suddenly short lives.”

“Wha-? Hang on a second.” Mike began to briskly walk towards the closing door.

“And I look forward to the inevitable starvation of whomever ends up eating the other…”

“WHOA HANG ON A SECOND.”

Michael wedged himself between the closing door and the far wall, effectively halting it but probably earning a few bruises in the process. Karen rushed forward to help leverage the door off his chest, but it was too heavy to move.

“What’s this? Have I…revitalized a spark of curiosity in you? Had a sudden change of your still beating heart?”

“Yes.” Karen quickly said.

“Are you quite sure?”

“Yes, yes!! Now please just open the door!!”

“How wonderful to hear…”

To their relief, the door was slowly opened again, and both of them found themselves in a very long, very dark corridor.

Two busts stared at them front and center. Windows lined the left side of the hallway and portraits were at the right side on the wall. Judging by the outline of dust, it appeared that there used to be five portraits; the middle one was missing. With every lightning flash, the painted oils seemed to…flicker…in a most peculiar way.

She eyed Mike. “Are you okay? Your chest…”

“It’s fine. I’ve had worse. Football, remember? Are you okay?”

Their hands found one another again, and she felt him give hers a squeeze.

“I’m not the one who almost got crushed by a door.”

“No, but you’ve been acting a little funny ever since we came across this dump. Is ther-“

“Shall we begin the tour? Many of our residents are simply dying to meet you..hm hm hmm.”

Mike glared at air from the interruption. “No we don’t want any tour! I mean...What gives? This place was abandoned-IS abandoned. Are you trying to tell me that’s not true anymore and you and a bunch of other people live here now?!”

“Of course not…”

A breeze of mysterious origins engulfed them; it set her nerves on edge.

“Living requires a certain degree of mortality, and I must regrettably inform you that I left mine hanging when I decided to go on a more spiritual journey oh so many years ago.”

“Caw! The coward’s way! He took the coward’s way out! Caw!!”

There was something very wrong with this house. As if stretching rooms and disembodied voices weren’t bad enough, she had been quite certain that she had seen no signs of live before when she had looked up and down the hallway.

Yet here was a raven, suddenly sitting pretty on the bust of the angry looking man as if it had been there the whole time.

“Please mind the raven. An old nag of a soul has gotten ahold of the poor bird’s body. He’s the sort of fellow who would kill to better himself. And he might just consider bettering himself…with you.”

It definitely was possessed by something because a most curious feeling came over her. She could hear someone….calling.

And calling…

An-

A room.

A beautiful room.

It was a most elegant room, with all of the trimmings and airs of respectability, including a four poster master bed in the center. The faint sounds of giggling behind the curtained bed stifled the sudden wave of nausea and unease that Karen felt in inspecting the nearby décor.

What just happened?

This was not the hallway; Michael was nowhere in sight. Nor could she hear the raven cawing or the Ghost Host booming over her.

Yet…she was not alone. There was a little boy beside her. Dressed nicely in some old-timey beige pants and a button down off-white shirt, he couldn’t have been more than five.

And he was shaking almost as bad as she was.

“H-hey…” She whispered to him.

He didn’t seem to have heard her. He pressed on towards the four poster bed, hesitance in every step, before reaching out to gently rustle the curtains.

“Mother…?”

The giggling stopped. The curtains parted. There was a young man that came from it, a teenager more like it, well-to-do with a suit a-skewed. The woman beside him…she had to be a teenager too from how young she looked…and she was dressed…

…In that same strange green dress that Karen had seen on Nell…

The young woman went to speak, but the young man interrupted.

“What do you want, brat?”

The child nervously looked from him to the young woman, unable to answer.

“Well? Cat got your tongue?”

“I….I-I want mother…”

“Well your mother is busy with me, so come on. Off with you! Off! Off! Off!”

The man clapped his hands, coming towards the boy; with every clap there was a large stride.

And with every step, there was a loud clap.

Closer and closer.

You know what’s coming.

Closer and closer.

Breathing heavy. The world was suddenly bathed in fear.

No, please.

Taking uncomfortable steps back. This isn’t how it was supposed to be.

Please. Don’t let him get me.

Backing away, hands suddenly on her shoulders.

The desire to run.

This isn’t right.

She isn’t supposed to be here.

She’s not he-

“Karen!”

She jolted, as if from a nightmare, shaking with a cold sweat.

The hallway was back.

And Michael…Michael was the one holding her, comforting hands rubbing at her shoulders in what was obviously an attempt to calm her down.

“Mike…?”

“Are you…are you okay?? You scared me for a second.”

“What…” She shuddered, looking all around the hallway while attempting to even out her breathing. The raven sitting on the bust seemed to watch her with its beady eyes. “…What happened?”

“I dunno. You were acting all weird, like you were in a daze. I tried talking to you, but you didn’t even seem to notice...”

“Oh.” She said in a small voice. All the strength seemed to be sapped out of her; the strength to explain herself included.

As if she even could explain what that was.

“Voyeurist!” The raven suddenly screamed. “Peeper! Spectator! Caw Caw! Recollections are not yours to oogle at! Privacy snatcher! Filthy psychic! Psychic! Psychic! Thief! Thief!”

A flash of feathers, and the bird lunged for her face. She shrieked and made an effort to fend herself, but she was too worn down already that she felt forced to bury in Michael’s chest. She could feel Mike’s arm swatting at it in her stead, the reassurance of her boyfriend’s heartbeat calming her down as she heard the bird retreating away.

“Birdbrain.” Mike grumbled at it.

“Filth! Filth! Filth!” The bird spat back at him in a continuous chant.

“Enough.”

There was silence in the hall. Karen peeked out from the safety of Michael’s hug to see the bird cowering under the echo of the voice above them.

“My… My…. My…”

The voice of the Ghost Host, still booming and deep, but there was another layer to it this time.

It was laced…with utter delight.

So much delight that she had to shudder again.

“What a fascinating development. My dear feathered acquaintance… I may have to ask you to refrain yourself this time around. Lives have a certain value, after all. And your soul, Raven, is rather worthless to me in comparison… Off with you now…Or off with your head.”

The raven visibly cringed, its mumbling incoherent as it hopped up and flew away.

“Now…Where was I?”

“You were telling us all about how you’re supposed to be a dead guy.” Michael said, unamused.

“Ah yes….It was a New Year’s resolution of mine; giving up all bodily desires. I could abandon all those trivial concerns that the common people thought about. Trivial concerns such as money…work…”

Frigid cold fingers suddenly tightened around her neck.

“...breathing…”

She shrieked and struggled, but the hands very quickly let her go without any resistance. Looking behind her, there was nothing there. Not the freezing cold fingers, nor the source of the strangely hot breath that had spoken against her ears.

She huddled up closer to Mike, burying her face into his chest. He held her close, doing his best to glower at someone he couldn’t even see.

“Whatever you did, that wasn’t funny!”

“Why, I’ve hardly done much of anything….Yet.”

“That does it.” Mike whispered quickly to her. “We’re getting out of here.”

He released her and went to grab ahold of the first piece of furniture in sight; a slightly scorched ornate chair that had a green velvet cushion. Inexplicably, it also had a piece of parchment attached to the front of it: the word “Sold” written on it.

“Mike…” She just barely steadied herself, the shakiness starting to subside. She had the distinct feeling that she wasn’t going to like the results of what her boyfriend was about to do.

“First, trespassing. Now, vandalism… The moral character of your soul is greatly…questionable. I admire that. All you require is to lose that mortal shell of yours, and you’d fit in quite well among us.”

Mike took the time to glare in irritation at the ceiling as he positioned the chair.

Half a swing, half a throw, and the chair was hurtled at one of the windows lining the hall. The disgusting crunching sound it made suggesting that he’d gotten right through.

There is no point. Even as the doubt was spinning in the back of her mind, she still forced herself closer to the window.

A crack in the glass.

No. That wasn’t a crack. That was a spider’s web.

…Wasn’t it?

Michael was staring at it too.

….The cracks were moving.

They were spilling out.

…..

The spiders.

It was a crack in the glass. A crack in the shape of a spider’s web. And tiny, black spiders were all spilling out of the cracks in droves. There were so many of them; beady black bodies with a tiny spot of red on their backs, glistening like blood.

They dripped down to the floor, scattering as they went. The majority of their stock were still lingering around the cracks, but as that group filtered out…

…There were no cracks….

Not anymore.

She looked back at Michael. He was staring at it incredulously, his face pale. He didn’t do well around insects or spiders.

Still a little shaky she took the chair away from him and, though she thought it still hopeless, made a good effort to throw the chair against the window again.

Another smack.

Another crack.

Another spider’s web.

And yet another spilling of spiders.

Scores of them, much akin to the disturbance of a well populated ant hill. And they couldn’t have been coming from anywhere except from within the walls and windows themselves.

The house was bleeding.

The house was bleeding spiders.

She stuck one of the legs of the chair straight into the crack, trying to push through and actually break the glass entirely. But this only seemed to anger the spiders.

A whole drove of them gathered to march up the chair leg. They did not stop or pause in their single minded attempt to get to her, proving beyond a doubt that these were no ordinary spiders. Ordinary spiders were never this coordinated.

They started to hiss at her as they just reached her fingertips, and she felt forced to drop the chair lest they actually touch her.

The spiders scattered back to the cracks in the building; once she had stopped meddling in the window crack, they had immediately ceased their interest in her.

A quick look up confirmed that the crack she had made was gone. Just like before.

“Thought that you were the first hapless mortals to try that?”

Karen met eyes with Michael. He looked just as defeated as she had been all along.

“Trespassing mortals ought not to avoid their punishments.”

“We aren’t trespassers!” She said.

“Is that so? The Master, I’m sure, would be very interested to hear that. And that is not to speak of his outrage that he will, no doubt, express when he finds out we have three mortal residents now.”

“What she means is that we were just dropping by!” Mike said. “We just wanted to get out of the rain!”

“Trespasser or no trespasser. Where death is concerned, the only semantics you should concern yourself with is that you are mortals. Very foolish mortals, considering that you both do not see fit to do as I say. Which begs the question… ....just how long do you believe you’ll remain a mortal…hmm?”

“Is that a threat? Are you threatening us now?”

“Oh. My apologies. Some clarification is in order. I’m not threatening you now. I’ve been threatening you. It appears that I’ve been grossly derelict in making such intentions obvious.

Allow me to remedy that.”

A loud CRACK.

Her boyfriend falling beside her.

And the goosebumps prickled again.

“MICHAEL!” She screamed, reaching to grab him.

A large hole had appeared in the floor beneath them, and both of his legs had already fallen through. She scrambled for his shirt, then his shoulders, finally his arms as all other options slipped from her fingertips.

“Is this direct approach more to your liking? Do we have a better understanding of each other? Are my motives now...hmm hmm … transparent?”

“Mike! Mike, grab my other hand!”

“I…I can’t! It’s stuck!” Half his torso was already beneath the boards, including half of one of his arms.

She put a foot on either side of him and tried to use the leverage to pull harder, but it was to no avail.

“As they always say: If you love someone, let them go. If it was meant to be, maybe they won’t die.”

Michael cried out in pain as he was yanked deeper into the hole. She was pulled down off her feet.

The floor was now at his neck, his head and his one arm the only parts of him visible now.

“Karen….K-Karen it’s no use. Something’s got my legs really good. And I don’t think this hole is big enough for me to climb out anymore.”

He was right. The spiders had already been vigorously repairing the damaged floorboards. She wondered, with an acute sense of dread, whether they would stop once they’d reached Michael’s flesh.

“I would have to agree with him. I recommend letting go, or else Mr. Michael here may be forced to give you a hand. ….And likely not in the way that you’d prefer…”

As if reading her mind, the Ghost Host answered her yet unspoken question. His visible limb was destined to be severed.

“No…” She said. “No no no no no no!”

She tore at the boards with her free hand, which was no small feat as it was getting harder to keep Michael up. It was an attempt to knock away the spiders, to knock away the wood, to make the gap bigger, but it didn’t look like it was working.

“No no no NO!”

It didn’t look like she made a dent.

Tears were stinging her eyes.

Spider bites were stinging her hand.

“No no!”

“Hey.”

“No I won’t!!”

“Karen. Karen hey!”

She and Michael caught eyes.

“Hey. It’ll be okay.” She could tell Mike was trying to give her a reassuring smile, but it obviously laced with a lot of pain.

“Please don’t leave me. Please…”

“I won’t. I’ll find you, okay? We’ll find each other eventually. I won’t leave without you, I promise.”

“But..”

“The spiders are already nibbling at my neck, Karen. I’m sorry. You gotta let go…”

“...I…I promise too. I won’t leave you here. I’ll…I’ll find a way to get down to you. I…I love you.”

He gave her a weary smile. “I love you too.”

She held his gaze until the very last moment.

As his fingers slipped through hers.

As his neck disappeared.

And then his smile.

And then his eyes.

And when there was nothing left, she grabbed the chair and began to ram it into the floor.

Again.

And Again.

The spiders didn’t stand for it, of course. They were smart enough to relentlessly pursue her.

Up the chair. Attacking her hands.

It was only after several minutes of banging the furniture on the floor, failing to leave any dent with spiderbites all over her hands and wrists and forearms, that she finally gave up.

Slumped on the floor. The spiders leaving her side so that when she curled up unto herself, she was all alone.

Well. Almost all alone.

“My, My….What a touching scene that was…”

#fanfiction #haunted mansion fanfiction #haunted mansion fanfic #the haunted mansion fanfiction #of stories and songs #the haunted mansion #the haunted mansion fanfic #my fanfiction

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infinitehours · 5 years ago

Text

Chapter 3

More authornotes:

Once upon a time, I was a child going through the mansion for the first time.

Also in this chapter is both a reference to….a certain broken glass from the ballroom scene as well as a nod to a scene in the WDW version that was scrapped with the refurb.

As before, all artwork in this chapter was made by me.

The reference photo for the stretching room is: http://www.disneyphotoblography.com/2014/05/the-stretching-room.html

The reference photo for the hallway queue is: https://www.flickr.com/photos/cypress_phillies/5706355407/in/photostream

The poster is made up of several parts. Many of you will immediately recognize some of Rolly Crump’s designs for the original Museum of the Weird.

The lettering is based off of this Tokyo Disneyland Dumbo ad: https://i.pinimg.com/originals/7d/46/81/7d468119e6b2813b942afdf5c376a6e6.jpg

And the eye figure is taken from Memento Mori.

(poster has been deleted for now. May upload at another time)

~~~~~~

Brief mention of cannibalism in this chapter 3 (it’s never performed or attempted, just briefly mentioned in conversation).

~~~~

Table of Contents Link

~~~~

Ch. 3: The Bleeding House

~~~~~

“Kindly step all the way into the dead center of the next room please.”

For a while, the velvet voice lingered in the air. The cadence of each word seemed carefully chosen to reverberate in that very moment, in that very room, in just the perfect way.

And thus, both Karen and Mike were struck speechless.

Come inside, it seemed to call.

It would have likely been enough to leave her wanting, dragging herself across the floor to join the strange figure, if not for Mike beside her.

Because Mike was less impressed.

“Forget that. C’mon, Karen.”

With a snap, the sounds outside deadened; the old oak doors had closed of their own accord just as the couple reached them.

The low rumble of the mysterious voice danced around the room, chuckling.

“There’s no turning back. . .now.”

Mike jostled the doors. “What the heck??”

Digging his shoulder right up against one of them, he shoved. And again. And again.

“Karen, come and push against it too.”

“It’s not going to open.” She said simply. She couldn’t identify how she knew that; she certainly didn’t want to know how she knew that.

“Sure it will; it’s not magic. We’ll get a running start and throw our weight on it together. On the count of three?”

Numbly, she nodded.

“One, two and—“

Skidding for far, far longer than any physics should have allowed for.

For they had skidded right straight across the carpet….and all the way into the next room.

The dark room with the single man in the center.

The room that was calling for her.

“Three.” The voice mocked.

The light of the foyer, and their only escape, quickly grew dim as the sliding of a door shifted in the darkness.

But not long after the room grew dark did it grow exponentially bright again.

“So good of you both to join the great majority…”

They were trapped in an octagonal room.

Grotesque gargoyle statues, as watchful as prison wardens, surrounded them holding up candles.

And there were four prominent portraits depicting different people: A young woman with a parasol, an old woman with a rose, a stately bearded man, and a man in a bowler hat.

“Our tour begins here in this gallery where you see paintings of some of our guests as they appeared in their corruptible, mortal state.”

Karen looked all around the room, but there was nothing on the ground. No objects, no desks, no clutter, it was as if the room was only meant for the portraits.

“The man is gone.” She whispered to her boyfriend.

“What man?”

“The tall man….the tall man that was in the middle of this room just a few minutes ago. Didn’t you see him?”

“No….”

There was a pause in Mike’s voice.

“But….I can see that.”

She followed Michael’s gaze to the portraits on the wall, and instinctively grasped his hand tighter.

“Your cadaverous pallor betrays an aura of foreboding…”

The walls….

“…almost as though you sense a disquieting metamorphosis.”

The portraits…

They were…

“Is this haunted room actually stretching?”

“Yes,” She could hear Mike say, quietly under his breath.

“Or is it your imagination, hmm?”

The man with the bowler hat was atop others dressed in a similar fashion, sinking into something that was labeled ‘quick sand’ on the side….

The stately man, with the ribbon-like symbol of his status hanging around his chest, was, in fact, shown to be in boxer shorts, and standing atop a lit barrel of dynamite…

And all very quickly, while the scene faded back from tents and tightropes to the room and portraits once again, the strongest image of a poster came to mind.

MUSEUM OF THE WEIRD CIRCUS AND SIDESHOW

COME SEE THE UNBELIEVABLE!!

A strange looking plant….A man that looked like he was melting…And an eye, all seeing and all watching…

“Hey, it’s alright. I’m here…”

“And consider this dismaying observation:”

Was it a result of this place?

“This chamber has no windows and no doors, which offers you this chilling challenge:”

It was a mistake to come here. A very terrible mistake…

“To find a way out!”

The alarming presence of the voice lingering right in-between them caused the couple to diverge from each other.

Which, for all she knew, had been their ‘Host’’s intentions, as his maniacal laughter filled the room.

“Of course…there's always my way.”

The room went dark again. She could hear lightning from outside cracking the sky open, illuminating a mysterious space that somehow managed to exist beyond the ceiling.

And there he was.

The figure.

And just as before, his features were too far away, too masked by darkness to see clearly.

But he was watching.

“Oh, I didn’t mean to frighten you prematurely. The real chills come later.”

Karen could hear wood sliding on wood, and quite suddenly their ‘room with no windows or doors’ had a door. ….And the way out appeared to look much different from the way they came in.

“Now, as they say, ‘look alive,’ and we’ll continue our little tour. And let’s all stay together, please.”

She felt resigned to go along with it, but Mike held her back.

“We aren’t interested in any stupid tour you’ve got here, so you can just shove it. No way are we going any further than this.”

Contemplative silence.

“…Well. This is most certainly a first. But I would be happy to accommodate your request.”

The door began to close on them.

“After all, it isn’t every day that I meet a mortal willing to spend time here, in this very room. With me. For the rest of their suddenly short lives.”

“Wha-? Hang on a second.” Mike began to briskly walk towards the closing door.

“And I look forward to the inevitable starvation of whomever ends up eating the other…”

“WHOA HANG ON A SECOND.”

“What’s this? Have I…revitalized a spark of curiosity in you? Had a sudden change of your still beating heart?”

“Yes.” Karen quickly said.

“Are you quite sure?”

“Yes, yes!! Now please just open the door!!”

“How wonderful to hear…”

To their relief, the door was slowly opened again, and both of them found themselves in a very long, very dark corridor.