'They Who Hide Under Top Hats'- Children of the Moor - LORE SKETCHES

 

 The Box

By Sayuru Dabare

The world was silent. Arthur found himself in a complete and utter daze. He opened his eyes and saw only white. He moaned painfully as he struggled to move while lying on the smooth white floor. He slowly stood up and righted himself. He rubbed his dry hands on his face and looked around. All he saw was white, an endless expanse of pure senselessness stretching on into infinity with the only noticeable feature being the black suit he was wearing. But this expanse wasn’t completely empty. In the distance he saw a white picket fence, and behind it lay a house. It was a nice house, it was two storied and had a peach colored exterior with a black roof and a red brick chimney. The windows were shaped like arches with brown color frames and six panes each. The only exception to this was the round window at the very top where the attic was. At the front was a patio held by wooden beams above a wooden platform with a banister and a stairway leading up to the front door. He recognized this house. It was his house.

“Where I am?”, he said to himself. “What happened here?”

He made his way over to it silently. He could hear the very echoes of his mere footsteps as he made his way to the cold and lifeless structure. He climbed the stairs to the patio where he saw a rocking chair standing in the corner as still as a stone. The house was fully intact. In fact, it was looked brand new. He turned the knob of the front door and it was open. And so he walked inside.

He made his way inside his home. All was still quiet. The inside was fully furnished, just the way he left it. The eerie silence made him feel unnerved and his lack of memory made his confused.

“My house. Just as I left it.  But why is it here? And where is everyone?”

He made his way to the living room, a pentagon shaped room with a coffee table, a sofa and a fireplace with a calendar which May 12^th hanging from the wall. On top of the fireplace was a mantel where pictures of his family were kept. He immediately made his way over to the pictures to see whether they were still the same. The pictures of his three children were all there, visible and lovely. Yet the largest picture, a picture taken on his wedding day, was different. In the picture he stood in his black tuxedo with his wife in a white dress. Yet in the picture his wife had no face and her figure was distorted beyond recognition. It was as if one half of the picture had been waterlogged while the other half was perfectly fine.

“My family… but where are they?”  Arthur thought to himself again. What were their names? He couldn’t remember. Something which frustrated him.  He placed back the pictures into their rightful places, safe and sound. He then looked out the window. He still didn’t know where he was or why he was here. He peered his head through the glass and scanned the nearby area. All he saw was white at first. He then saw something in the distance. Something that stood out against the white. Something small yet noticeable among the mundane and repetitive environment. Arthur left the house through the front door and ran towards where he saw the object. As he ran he saw the object getting closer and closer. Until finally he arrived. He was confused what it was at first. But then he recognized it. It was a stone, made in the shape of a tombstone surrounded why a thick vine of white roses and covered with large thorns. Arthur circled the mysterious object. He saw that it had the word ‘Accept’ etched clearly onto one of the faces.

“What does this mean?” he pondered. He then tried to reach for the stone as his fingers approached it his foot suddenly slipped and he fell to the floor with his entire hand plunging directly into the sharp vine. He felt unimaginable pain as his hand felt directly onto the thorns. It felt as though he had been pricked by a thousand needles as the thorns cut deep into his flesh. He pulled his hand out as quickly as he could but by then it was too late. His hand was bleeding rapidly. He had never felt such pain before. He clutched arm and screamed profusely yet the bleeding continued. He stood up as fast as he could. There were bandages in house, he needed to get to them. He turned around to head back to house when he suddenly heard something. He heard the sound of dripping and the sound of something sliding across the floor. He then heard a whisper, a raspy voice as cold as ice and as piercing as a knife.

“Welcome home” it said.

Arthur turned around, horrified. He saw a visceral mass of flash arising from the blood that had spilled on the ground. It was covered in blood with it bleeding out of several places. Its surface was made of black, rotting flesh. It had many, many eyes all over its body with each one red with hints of yellow. It had a head shaped like that of a human but it was featureless and only had a large mouth in the shape of grin lined with teeth that trusted for blood. It then grew large writhing arms with massive claws that yearned to rip and tear. It was the horrifying thing he had ever seen.

“What are you?” he asked with fear oozing from his body.

“Are you…scared of me? Scared to think of me? Locking your sacred heart in an iron box away from the flames of sorrow?” it asked it then leaned closer to Arthur, “Come…to…me”

Arthur ran. He needed to get to the house. The monster chased him leaving a black path of blood and flesh behind. Like a paint brush upon a canvas. Arthur ran like he had never ran before. Even the pain of his wounded hand didn’t hinder him. But even at his near athletic pace the monster was always close behind. He managed to get to the house. He jumped up the stairs into the patio and closed the front door behind him. The monster stopped for a moment just outside the patio. Arthur looked out the window and he saw the monster staring back at him. Even with the wall that separated them Arthur could still hear its voice.

“Do you think our walls will keep me out? Do you think you can hide in our sanctuary? Have you forgotten our joyful bouts? Have you forgotten our times so merry?”

Arthur ran upstairs. It was his house and he knew where he could find something to defend himself. He ran to his bedroom. Which was a small room with a crimson wall with a king-sized bed in the corner. A potted plant sat in the windowsill and a table sat in the other corner with an oak chair, a stack of paper and typewriter. Next to the table was wardrobe and it was there that Arthur went. He opened the doors and rummaged the back until he felt something long and metal in his hands. He pulled it out revealing it to be a hunting rifle. One he kept in case of emergencies and something he turned to in case of a threat. He took the rifle back downstairs and, feeling brave and confident, kicked down the front door and walked onto the flat white ground.

He looked around, the monster was gone. It wasn’t there. He looked around some more analyzing the environment for any sign of the hideous abomination. But he found none. He breathed a sigh of relief. He was about to go inside again when he heard the raspy whisper once more.

“Welcome”

He turned around towards the house and he saw the monster’s disgusting mass ooze and drip down from the roof of the house in order to form in front of him. Arthur froze and before he could point his gun the monster took its claws and stabbed him in the stomach. Arthur felt immense and indescribable pain as the claws dug into his body. He felt his limbs go numb as he let go of his rifle.

“I am pain. I cannot be ward off. I am fear and disdain. I am the one you no longer care to speak of” said the monster as it grabbed Arthur by the head and heaved pulling his head apart from his body and his organs from his skeleton. The world went black as Arthur felt the pain of being ripped apart.

But then it was white again. Arthur opened his eyes again. He felt no pain anymore. He found himself lying on the same spot he woke up in earlier. He was unscathed. He was wearing the same suit. He quickly got up in a panic and looked around but the monster was gone. He looked at the direction he saw his house and realized it was still there untouched. He once again started to walk up to the house as it was the only noticeable thing in the mundane and repetitive atmosphere. He walked with caution as he was still worried whether the monster was still there. He made his way up to the canopy and the front door. He noticed something was different. He noticed that part of the roof and pillars that made up the canopy were corroded. As if they had been smothered in acid. He opened the front door and walked in. He looked around to see if anything had changed but nothing had. He immediately made his way upstairs and to his room. He opened the wardrobe only to find his gun in the same place that he had first gotten it. Arthur didn’t know where the monster was but he knew it wasn’t gone. He was going to be prepared for when it came again. The confusion of this situation still lingered in the back of his mind but he knew he couldn’t dwell on it if he wanted to survive. He took his gun into his hands and made his way out of his room. But as he was making his way down the hallway to the stairs he heard something.

“Come and play” said a whisper. It was feminine but it wasn’t the same one he had heard before. It sounded like a child and it sounded close. Arthur looked around. Whatever it was it was nearby. The only other doors in the hallway led to the bathroom and the children’s bedroom.  Arthur made his way to the bedroom door slowly. He had his gun at the ready. He opened the door and made his way in. The whisper stopped and he looked around. There was nothing there. The room was clean and empty. The only thing in the room were three dolls. Each one was dressed in a gown and hand blonde hair. Each facing each other in a circle. Arthur breathed a sigh of relief as he turned away and faced the exit. He then heard the whisper again.

“Don’t go, stay. Come and play” it said in a high pitch. Arthur turned the around realized the dolls had move. Now they were upright. Looking at him with their cold, dead eye that were as black as a void. They had blood coming from their foreheads as each one had the words ‘LOVE ME’ stitched in iron thread. Arthur flashed his rifle and aimed the dolls but the dolls only gave him wide grins that peered into his very soul.

“Stay and play. Don’t go!” the dolls said in a deeper voice. They then chuckled and shrieked with pitch that made Arthur’s ears bleed. They began to walk, nay, run at him with their tiny feet. Arthur fired his gun at one of the dolls. The bullet hit the doll in the eye and it went flying back. But it soon got up again. But this time with its eye bleeding but its creepy smile still intact. Arthur then ran outside the room and shut the door before the dolls could reach him.

He made his way downstairs hastily. He walked out the back door and made his way to the gravestone. He wanted to strike down the monster before it had time to get to him. He reached the gravestone within minutes because of his fast pace. He saw that its vines were intact and the blood he had spilt had disappeared. He didn’t try to touch the gravestone this time. Instead he stood close to it with his gun pointed directly at it.

While he did so he looked behind the gravestone. Beyond it was more white nothingness stretching off endlessly. Arthur was intrigued. He was curious. Surely this mundane environment couldn’t stretch on forever, could it? He decided he wanted to find out. Maybe there was a way he could escape this place. Maybe he could find a way out of this quiet, senseless prison. He walked passed the gravestone to see if there was an end to the void. He didn’t get far before he found his answer. He walked about ten feet behind the gravestone when he walked head first into a wall. He tried to move passed it by turning right but the wall infinitely on either direction. The bright, blinding white made it seem like the world stretched onto infinity but that wasn’t the case. Arthur realized he was stuck in a cube. A box of nothing but white.

“I’m trapped” he thought to himself, “There is no way out”

He went back to the gravestone. He looked around it to see whether he could see anything. He was desperately hoping that there was something else. Something that could maybe help him. He looked to his left and saw something. Or rather a pile of something. He couldn’t see what it was at first and he was afraid to go there. But he decided he must. He left the gravestone and made his way over to the pile. The pile seemed bigger and bigger the closer he got and by that point his curiosity and desperateness for something other than this white waste had overcome him. As he got closer he realized it was a pile of bottles. Glass wine bottles.

Arthur was confused and intrigued. He wasn’t a drinker. But he was thirsty. This cold place had no water. And he was desperate for something to ease his sense of insanity. He took one bottle from the pile and made his way back to the gravestone. He sat close to it with his gun in hand and waited. He tried opening the bottle but he found it hard at first. He pulled on the cork with all his strength and managed to open it with sheer strength. He was about to take a sip when he saw something move. He took his attention away from the bottle and looked at the gravestone. The white roses growing from the vines were starting to grow. They grew long and fast. Arthur stood there with his gun pointed at the strange flora. He watched as the vines multiplied and grew thorns as long as his fingers. He saw them gather together into a large pile that suddenly turned black. Arthur knew. The demon had tasted his blood before and it wanted more. The black mass grew arms and the familiar face. Arthur found himself frozen with fear once again. But he shook it off and fired at the monster as it formed. He shot it until his gun ran out of bullets. The bullets pushed the monster back but they did no damage. The monster formed its face with its malicious grin.

“Oh Arthur. Why do you still retain? Come to me, join me. We’ll be happy again” it said. Arthur had run out of ideas. He threw his gun at the monster, the gun landed on the black mass of rotting flesh but was then swiftly absorbed into the monster. Arthur took a few steps back, terrified. He only had his wine bottle. He knew he couldn’t run away, the monster was just too fast. He decided make one last attempt at stopping the monster. He threw the bottle on the ground in front of him and it shattered into hundreds of shards. Arthur was hoping to use the glass shards as knives. But he noticed something strange. As drops of the wine flew through the air upon the shattering of the bottle, they landed on the monster. The monster let out a whimper and recoiled, seemingly in pain. Arthur looked at it with surprise.

“The wine, is it hurting it?” he thought to himself. He swiftly reached down to the puddle of wine before the monster could reach him. He grabbed as much of it onto his hand as he could and threw it in the monsters direction. The wine seemed to burn the monster like acid. It whimpered and moan din agony as Arthur threw the wine at it. But he soon ran out of wine to throw as he slowly emptied the puddle. The monster was weakened, it stood still coiled up into a pile. But Arthur knew it wouldn’t stay like that forever. He thought of quickly running away and hiding in his house. But he knew that it wouldn’t keep the monster out. He looked at the wine. He needed more of it. And he knew where to get it.

He swiftly turned around began running towards the pile of bottles. The monster took some time to recover from its wounds but once it did it chased after Arthur furiously. Arthur got closer and closer to the bottles but the monster was slowly getting closer. Arthur reached the pile and grabbed the first bottle he could reach. The monster was charging relentlessly towards him. He tried to open the lid but he couldn’t. He pulled with all his might but the lid wouldn’t come off. He put all his concentration into opening that bottle that he forgot to look where he was stepping. He took one step back slipped on one of the bottles on the floor. He fell directly onto the pile and he let go of the bottle he was holding while he fell. He tried to reach for it but it was too late. He felt the monster’s hand grab his leg and pull him away. He then felt immeasurable pain as the monster grabbed his body and ferociously ripped his spine out and tore his flesh and organ to pieces.

Then the pain faded. The next thing he saw was white. Arthur opened his eyes again and saw that he was laying on the same spot he was before. This time he stood up more swiftly. He saw his house in the same place it was before. He felt no pain yet he felt frustrated. He felt confused and angry. He felt like a bird trapped in a very small cage. He had to find a way to escape. He had to.

He marched onto his house. He noticed that it looked different. One of the steps leading up to the patio was gone and part of the roof above the door was also gone. Like it had been torn out by hand. He opened the door and swiftly made his way upstairs. He was going to his room but on the way he opened the door to the children’s bedroom. Inside he found the same three doll sitting in the same position they were before. He quickly closed the door and locked it before the dolls had time to move. He reached his room and wardrobe and pulled out his gun before marching out the house. He needed to defeat the monster in order to find a way to escape. He made his way out of his backyard but instead of going directly for the gravestone he made his way to the pile of bottle. He grabbed a few wine bottles in his hands and made his way to the gravestone. But as he walked towards it he noticed something. He saw something lingering around the gravestone. It was the monster, it was already there. It was waiting for him. Arthur thought of running but he was sure he could vanquish the monster. He bravely made his way to it. The monster didn’t move ta first. Arthur realized that it hadn’t seen him yet. He realized he could maybe vanquish it before it saw him. He quietly made his way up to the beast. He opened one of the bottles. The lid came off quite easily this time. He barely had to put in any effort. He approached the monster from behind and splashed as much of the bottle as he could. The monster screeched at the pitch so loud that it gave him a painful headache. The wine dissolved a large portion of the monster. It turned around and faced Arthur, who was already reaching desperately for the next bottle.

“Oh Arthur, why do you persist? Why drown yourself in the illicit? Why run and hide when we can be free? Why hide from your past glee?”

Arthur did not reply to the monster’s taunts. Instead he reached for the next bottle and swiftly opened it. He then spilt as much of it as he could on the monster. The monster continued to relentlessly come for him. Once he was done with that bottle he reached for another. Then another. Until he ran out. At the point the monster had been slowed down to a mere crawl.

“I just need a bit more” he said to himself. The monster was still coming for him. But it was now slower and weaker. Arthur immediately bolted to the pile of bottles before the monster had time to recover. He ran with all his might and reach the pile before the monster could reach him. He grabbed as many bottle as he could and raced on back to where the monster was. The monster was slowly regaining itself. But before it could strike Arthur he opened another bottle and emptied it on the monster. The monster began to fizzle and shriek before being reduced to a mere lifeless puddle. Arthur breathed a sigh of relief as he saw the monster melt into nothing but a stain on the blinding white ground.

But in the back of his mind he knew. The monster wasn’t dead. At least, he didn’t believe it to be dead. He knew it will come back at some point. So he needed to prepare. He went back to the bottle pile and grabbed as much as his hands could hold. He then slowly walked to his house. When he arrived he noticed something different about his house. He noticed the walls have deteriorated slightly and the windows were cracked. He went inside and stockpiled them inside. He then walked out again in order to get more. He only made it out passed the picket fence before he realized something was wrong. He felt a shiver run down his spine. He sensed something behind him. But before he could turn around something grabbed him by the head and gouged his eyes out of his skull. He then felt a familiar pain as the monster tore him apart once more.

It was white again and Arthur woke up in the same place as always. But this time it was going to be different. Arthur woke up determined that he would survive the monster. He raced on back to his house where he found the bottles he had taken still in the same place he had left them in. The walls of the house were beginning to slightly crack and the cracks on the windows were getting larger. He looked outside and the monster was once again gone, which relieved him.

He didn’t dare take a step out of the house. Instead he shut the doors and stayed inside. He was like a hermit living alone in a secluded cave. That was his life. Every time he saw the monster form outside he would throw bottles at it to hopefully weaken it. Sometimes he hit, sometimes he missed. What was clear was that the monster could not come into the house. Which meant that he could live as long he stayed inside.

Arthur soon realized that he didn’t need or drink. He spent what felt like days in the house but he never got hungry or thirsty. He was just there, existing in a perpetual state of emptiness. Alone and cold in a very small space. Every time he looked at the walls he noticed the cracks getting slightly, very slightly longer and more visible. The house was slowly falling to ruin, breaking apart. First at the seams, then from the inside. This made him worry about how long he had left before the monster could crawl its way in.

The only other time he left the hose was when he ran out of bottles to throw. Almost every day he would run out the front door and reach for the pile of bottles. Sometimes he made it, most times he didn’t. He tried to sneak away from the monster but it would always hear him. He tried running but the monster was too fast. The monster would tear him to pieces every time it caught him. It would tear out his tongue, rip open his chest, pull out his eyes and feast on his flesh. Every single time he would die he would always wake up in the same place. And he would attempt the same thing over and over again. He felt like he was losing part of his mind every time he died. He felt like he was losing a part of himself. He was spiraling down a dark and winding pit while being surrounded by light. He was going insane.

In order to ward away the loneliness he would take to his work. Arthur was a writer, his passion laid in ink and paper. He would take to the typewriter he kept in his room. He would write endlessly as it was the only thing he could do. Next to him he often heard knocking coming from the next room. It was the dolls trying to reach him. But he learned to ignore them. He would write endlessly for hours and hours. He would confine himself to his desk and write piles upon piles of paper. But ultimately, what he wrote was meaningless. It lacked purpose, it lacked truth and meaning. It often failed to ward off the sense of isolation he felt. It failed to ward away the cold. But he kept doing it as he didn’t have any other choice. In the end, he would still run out of bottles to throw. He would still be forced to run onto that field and in often times, still be doomed to die a painful death.

One day, he was engaging in his only ever activity when he noticed something through his window. He had learned to notice small details in his surroundings. He peeked his head out of the mound of papers full of nonsensical rabble and saw a figure standing directly outside his house. The figure was black and so he assumed it was the monster. But he soon realized it wasn’t. The monster was vicious, ferocious and gruesome. But this figure was different. It was calm and composed. Sleek and stoic but also grim and chilling. Arthur debated on whether going outside was a sound choice. But curiosity to see something new overwhelmed him. He left his room and went downstairs. He looked out every window to see whether the monster had gone. He then took a wine bottle into his hands and walked out the door once he realized the monster wasn’t around. He walked out the now half deteriorated front door and approached the figure who was standing only a few feet away.

Once he was outside Arthur noticed a few things. The figure wore a cloak of black which meant it wasn’t the monster. Its hands and limbs seemed withered as though it was a thousand years old. It hid its face beneath its cloak which projected nothing but an endless black void. But other than that, it looked… human. As Arthur approached it the figure remained still. It did not attack or defend. Arthur was now more curious than ever.

“What are you?” he inquired while tightening the grip he had on his wine bottle. The figure moved its body only slightly and began to speak. Yet it didn’t face him.

“I am one who watches, one who takes and one who lasts an eternity. And for you, I have come to offer a release”

“A release?” asked Arthur now intrigued and perplexed.

“I offer an end. An end to pain, an end to suffering, an end to worry” it said in a raspy voice. It then held out its horrifically withered and bony hand towards Arthur, “Join me and be free” it said.

Arthur gazed at the figure’s hand. He thought of it.  The figure remained still and did not move an inch. Arthur wanted to take the offer. He felt like taking the offer. But he feared that it may be one that he couldn’t take back. He didn’t trust the figure. He didn’t trust that it will make good on its promises. Yet he yearned to take it. He reached out his to take it and was only a few centimeters away. Yet he didn’t. He pulled his hand back and clutched it tightly.

“No” he said sternly to both himself and the figure. The figure took back its hand and said nothing. It stood still but moments later it slowly turned to dust and vanished. Arthur looked at the now empty space where the figure stood with frustration and confusion.

“What kind of sick mind game is this?” he asked himself but he very well knew that he might get the answer.

He returned to the house. Knowing that the monster was lurking somewhere. He returned to his desk upstairs and began to work again. Questions were floating in his mind and he couldn’t forget them. He wrote pointlessly on his typewriter as he thought. But the more and more he typed the angrier he became. He angry eventually boiled over into sadness and misery. Why was he here? How can he get out? Was he destined to live in this cycle of torment for eternity? He banged his hands on his desk in fury knocking over a piles of papers he had stacked on his desk. Tears started coming out of Arthur’s eyes. He remembered his family, why couldn’t he remember their names? Why can’t he find them? He was about to stand up from his chair when he noticed something. He noticed one of the drawers of his writing table had nudged open ever so slightly. He noticed something white sticking out from inside it. It looked like a piece of paper, but not one he had written. He opened the drawer revealing the paper to be a half-torn hand written note with the bottom half gone. Arthur took it out and read it. He realized it was a note with only a few words written on it.

Be strong. For I may be gone, but with you I linger. Do not forget it, do not hide in the within walls of pain, break free from them. Tear them down and live with joy.

Be strong? He remembered that phrase. He had seen this letter before. But he didn’t know form where. He suddenly remembered a memory. Of him sitting next to his typewriter. But with him stood someone, his wife, a poet. Had she written this for him? What did it mean? He sat there on the floor, leaning on his desk thinking about it. He didn’t know the answers to his questions but he did know that the note had to mean something. He took those words to heart, be strong. He felt the flame of hope rekindling his heart. There was a way out, an escape. There had to be. And he was going to find it.

He then had an epiphany. He realized what the note meant. He knew that the white abyss did not spread on for eternity. It had an end. A wall, a barrier. He knew there had to be something on the other side. That was his way out. If he could break the walls of this hellish prison, he could escape. He could be set free.

He ran downstairs. He looked out the windows to see whether the monster was there. By that point the walls of the house and fully broken. The windows had shattered and the roof had been damaged. He knew that he could not stay in this house. He grabbed a wine bottle and bolted out the door. But instead of running towards the bottle pile like usual he ran directly towards the gravestone. He reached it within minutes but he didn’t stop to see it. He instead ran passed it and ran until he met the wall. Once he did he began to bang on it as hard as he could. But the wall was tough. He threw the wine bottle at it. It exploded upon contact and left a stain but didn’t make a single dent. He needed something bigger, something heavier. He looked around, the monster hadn’t appeared yet so he quickly made his way back to his house. He bolted upstairs and grabbed the heaviest thing he could carry, his typewriter, and brought it to the wall before throwing it at it. He tried it several times until the typewriter broke into pieces yet the wall remained unscratched. Arthur then went back to his house and got his gun. He fired bullets at the wall until his gun ran out of ammunition, the wall cracked but it still stood strong. Arthur put down the gun and sighed. The monster had come for him yet but he knew it will soon. He was running out of options and hope. He realized he needed something much bigger and much heavier and he could only think of one thing. He looked behind him and saw the gravestone. He knew it was his last hope. He glared at the thorny rose bushes that engulfed the stone, they were now much thicker and denser than when he first saw them. He was still scared to touch them. But he knew he had to. He mustered his courage and summoned as much will as he could. He approached the gravestone. He first bashed away the outer parts of the bush using his gun as a bat. But once that failed he got down on his knees and, with all his might, began tearing the bush by hand. The thorns stung and pierced him like knives yet he charged forward. He threw the bush parts over his head as he tore them. Finally he tore away the last remains of the bush and pulled the gravestone out of the floor with his blood soaked hands. He was experiencing immeasurable pain but he persisted. As he stood with the gravestone he saw something loom over him. Looked back and saw the monster, now larger and more grotesque than ever before, forming from the torn and blood soaked bits of the bush.

“I shall not let you leave, to the depths of despair I will heave. You shall not escape, for you are doomed to this fate!” 

Arthur didn’t waste time. He quickly ran to the wall as the monster was forming behind him. And once he reached it he began to bash the gravestone into the all. The wall immediately began to crumble and deteriorate as he hit it with the stone. The monster roared in fury and came after him but Arthur just kept bashing. H was close, he was very close. The monster reached out its disgusting arm in order to grab Arthur. Arthur finished carving out a hole he could jump through just as the monster’s hand grabbed his waist. Arthur wasn’t about to let go now. So he quickly dropped the gravestone on the monster’s hand once he was finished carving out the wall. The stone crushed the monster’s hand beneath it and it screamed in pain letting Arthur go. Arthur then took his chance and jumped through the hole he had created. As he exited the prison he had been trapped in for so long he saw the monster turn to dust behind him. While outside he was enveloped by a light brighter than anything he had seen. He had done it. He had let go. He had escaped the darkest place, he had risen above the sorrow and madness. He was free.

 

 

Fin.