July 24, 1998. The air is thick and heavy, the kind of claustrophobic air that makes your face hot and sweat just by breathing. The estate still by the quiet of the warm summer night, with the exception of the occasional roll of thunder outside the magestic windows draped in clamorous moonlight and dampened darkness. Midnight descends and all inside the Spencer mansion move slowly but not without haste, for their ravenous hunger is matched only by their insatiable lust for her insides. Her flesh reeks of the living, of fear, of perspiration; driving all shadows in the darkness to her blindly like moths to a lamp light. Who knows what Jill has spoken into the darkness, her walls closing in about her. I cannot get out, for these halls are a maze and its’ doors are a puzzle. I cannot get out. But if only I continue, I shall find more than just the answers… but my salvation as well.
Derek Traver Art 