109 Vhalar, 723
.
The weather today was unusually mild for the season, but Kotton wasn’t complaining. He had chosen to relish in the nice breeze and casual sunlight by going on a hike through the bordering woods of town- Sweetwine was it called?
Unfortunately, Worick had gone out the previous night to have a drink with some buddies which had turned into several drinks and then some more after that so he wasn’t able to accompany him. ‘I’ll be done before the moon sleeps,’ he had told Kotton, but the moon had been sleeping for a while, the sun acknowledging the white flag of surrender and thereby accepting dominion in the sky for hours now, so Kotton figured his friend was sleeping off a hangover that would undoubtedly admonish him with a frenzy of pain.
He felt bad for the poor fellow; this was very unlike his studious, responsible and almost pretentious comrade. Kotton wondered if the stress of his job or social life had caught up with him in a bad way. He didn’t oppose the solidarity though; the sequestration would do him some good.
Time passed by as Kotton journeyed further into the land of forestry. He had watched as the trees had started sparsely populated, and took notice as they became more frequent. It didn’t take very long before the trees had merged themselves into thicker and thicker canopy, almost as if they were fighting one another for the sun’s light.
Having reached the edge of town, the terrain he now found himself roaming was of unknown territory. He had ventured out to this area only once before, but he couldn't remember anything about that time apart from the many trees. And trees there were. Exploration was asunder, and Kotton was more than happy to comply with this unintentionally coerced sense of discovery.
Kotton had lost sense of time, but by scrutinizing the sun and how it had dipped since he first started his journey, it had been a while since he had last encountered any means of civilization. Knowing this, it struck him as odd when a small, wooden cabin popped up almost out of nowhere. Surely the outskirts of town held some residential edifices; it was asinine to think otherwise, but it was the way it looked that fostered uneasiness in the young man’s gut.
The building was run-down; the shutters unhinged, hanging by a thread from their respective windows. The door was not in any better shape. There was a hole in the roof, the ensconcing shingles decrepit upon the brutal tyranny of weathering storms. Kotton guessed this abode had undergone witness one too many tales of inimical nature.
He hesitated to investigate. It was smart of him to contemplate the positive and negative outcomes if his decision was to give in to his natural curiosity and inclination. Like a black smudge of dried coffee on an important work note, he couldn’t ignore it- his need to explore. It nagged at the back of his mind. He wanted to learn more about the history of this house and what had led up to its current state of atrophy.
Kotton made his way to the front door. He watched his footing as he did, careful not to hurt himself with all the bits and pieces of the house that lay in shambles around him. The steps leading to the entrance were dilapidated just like the rest of the house. Out of politeness, Kotton started to knock when the door opened on its own, inviting him in. If this place was indeed still inhabited, then it was eerie how the door was unlocked.
“H-hello?” He stuttered, calling to what he hoped to be an empty room.
His wavering voice was matched with a dash of trepidation and that dash quickly gave way to an unignorable fear. Kotton was stumbling into the unknown. He didn’t know what lay behind this door. That being said, there resounded the reasonable question as to why he was doing what he was doing. What was he expecting to get out of exploring this house? What was the purpose of venturing into an abandoned dwelling? Was it to jump-start his weakening desire for a thrill? Was it to gain inspiration to write his next journal entry? Or was it just something to do since he was already out in the neck of the woods without having lain gaze upon anything other than leaves.
He had already taken a step into the house, committing to his venture into possibility. He was unarmed and ill-equipped to handle anything that may attack him. So why was he doing this? To step outside his comfort zone. He had been trapped in it for so long, suffering at the hands of his own mind. He had spent lengthy, lonely nights self reflecting, and he had come to the revelation that his mind was missing a spark. And he was set on filling that vacancy. Whilst breaking into someone’s house could have been the furthest from best ways to deal with his conundrum, he was determined to let himself feel the fear, the curiosity and the excitement. Besides, was it really breaking and entering if the door gave way upon his knocking?
“Hello?” He called again just to make sure nobody was home. He liked how his voice didn’t feel so fragile as it escaped his throat. Whilst he was open to being less predictable and more adventurous, there was no way to completely abolish the timid, guarded side of himself.
Kotton nearly face-palmed himself. If there was someone here, how the hell would he hear them? This created another issue that added to his uncertainty toward progressing into the house. But… his inner child was screaming for attention. Kotton bargained with himself: he would experience this thrill for only a moment and then be on his way. He needed to do this. He needed to feel the rush of adrenaline that simply ambling about in nature couldn’t provide. He even spent a few moments wondering if this act of walking through a clearly neglected lodging was even worthy of being considered a thrill.
It was a bit silly to think that his considerations could have such a profound effect on him. There were those who dared to do more galvanising feats, but to him the act of plucking a flower from a neighbour’s garden was mischievous, maybe even criminal.
Kotton crossed the threshold into the house in a couple of strides. His long legs carried his limber frame to the first room. He was already in too deep to back out now. He might as well continue.
There wasn’t much on the first floor, just the front room and what he presumed to be the kitchen, at least at some point. Now, it was nothing more than a barren space with an empty ice box and rusted basin. The staircase to his left, he conjectured, must hold more promise. He tentatively climbed the rickety stairs, making sure he had one hand on the bannister at all times. He didn’t know how old this thing was.
He almost tripped upon reaching the landing, but thankfully managed to find his footing before tumbling back down the stairs.
Peculiar as it may be, there was only one room on the second floor. The door stood directly in front of him, closed but a crack. A sliver of light evinced through a sliver between the door and the wall. Kotton pushed it open with timorousness. He was readying himself for whatever was in that very room. The bark can sometimes be worse than the bite, for the room held nothing hostile inside.
Kotton strode to the room’s centre where a luxurious desk stood. The desk was about all there was in the room save for a chair and large lantern. There was a small window at the back wall that illuminated the cosy space, hardly enough light to read by, but enough to allow visibility.
On the desk was a leather-bound journal. There were markings on the tome that piqued the young man’s interest. Just the sight of it sent his rear careening into the chair, almost as if he owned the place.
Wonderment reigned dominion over all other emotions at this point in time. He carefully flipped open the journal to the first page, his nosiness contrived with hypothetical insights that had yet to be established.
She entered my house with a smile. Those ruby red lips framed her perfectly white teeth so elegantly. It would be a shame to have them bloodied, but He is telling me to do so. So I do. My knuckles have never hurt more than they have after landing a merciless blow onto her cheek.
Kotton immediately closed the notebook. What in the actual fuck did he just read? He looked to his left, to his right, and behind him to make sure he was still alone. Did he dare read on? Was his inquisitiveness that strong?
Afterwards, she just lay there, but apparently He wasn’t done. He told me to finish the job by taking-
Kotton had read enough. He slammed the journal closed, forced himself to stand and practically threw himself down the stairwell all in the attempt to escape the violence that had been documented in such a heinous declaration.
His sight was blurry as he descended the stairs, but he was not without the ability to navigate his way back to the front door. After he exited the building, he slammed the rotted door against the frame of the house and continued to sprint through the trees, back the way he had come from.
All the while his mind was racing with thoughts. What? Who? Why? When? There were so many questions he wished he could answer, but his eyes had already bled enough just skimming the idioms regaled in that insidious tome. He would have to come up with his own conclusion, and he most definitely would.
The world could be a horrible, horrible place. And as Kotton tried to remember the direction he had come from, he longed for home with more zeal than ever.
Unfortunately, Worick had gone out the previous night to have a drink with some buddies which had turned into several drinks and then some more after that so he wasn’t able to accompany him. ‘I’ll be done before the moon sleeps,’ he had told Kotton, but the moon had been sleeping for a while, the sun acknowledging the white flag of surrender and thereby accepting dominion in the sky for hours now, so Kotton figured his friend was sleeping off a hangover that would undoubtedly admonish him with a frenzy of pain.
He felt bad for the poor fellow; this was very unlike his studious, responsible and almost pretentious comrade. Kotton wondered if the stress of his job or social life had caught up with him in a bad way. He didn’t oppose the solidarity though; the sequestration would do him some good.
Time passed by as Kotton journeyed further into the land of forestry. He had watched as the trees had started sparsely populated, and took notice as they became more frequent. It didn’t take very long before the trees had merged themselves into thicker and thicker canopy, almost as if they were fighting one another for the sun’s light.
Having reached the edge of town, the terrain he now found himself roaming was of unknown territory. He had ventured out to this area only once before, but he couldn't remember anything about that time apart from the many trees. And trees there were. Exploration was asunder, and Kotton was more than happy to comply with this unintentionally coerced sense of discovery.
Kotton had lost sense of time, but by scrutinizing the sun and how it had dipped since he first started his journey, it had been a while since he had last encountered any means of civilization. Knowing this, it struck him as odd when a small, wooden cabin popped up almost out of nowhere. Surely the outskirts of town held some residential edifices; it was asinine to think otherwise, but it was the way it looked that fostered uneasiness in the young man’s gut.
The building was run-down; the shutters unhinged, hanging by a thread from their respective windows. The door was not in any better shape. There was a hole in the roof, the ensconcing shingles decrepit upon the brutal tyranny of weathering storms. Kotton guessed this abode had undergone witness one too many tales of inimical nature.
He hesitated to investigate. It was smart of him to contemplate the positive and negative outcomes if his decision was to give in to his natural curiosity and inclination. Like a black smudge of dried coffee on an important work note, he couldn’t ignore it- his need to explore. It nagged at the back of his mind. He wanted to learn more about the history of this house and what had led up to its current state of atrophy.
Kotton made his way to the front door. He watched his footing as he did, careful not to hurt himself with all the bits and pieces of the house that lay in shambles around him. The steps leading to the entrance were dilapidated just like the rest of the house. Out of politeness, Kotton started to knock when the door opened on its own, inviting him in. If this place was indeed still inhabited, then it was eerie how the door was unlocked.
“H-hello?” He stuttered, calling to what he hoped to be an empty room.
His wavering voice was matched with a dash of trepidation and that dash quickly gave way to an unignorable fear. Kotton was stumbling into the unknown. He didn’t know what lay behind this door. That being said, there resounded the reasonable question as to why he was doing what he was doing. What was he expecting to get out of exploring this house? What was the purpose of venturing into an abandoned dwelling? Was it to jump-start his weakening desire for a thrill? Was it to gain inspiration to write his next journal entry? Or was it just something to do since he was already out in the neck of the woods without having lain gaze upon anything other than leaves.
He had already taken a step into the house, committing to his venture into possibility. He was unarmed and ill-equipped to handle anything that may attack him. So why was he doing this? To step outside his comfort zone. He had been trapped in it for so long, suffering at the hands of his own mind. He had spent lengthy, lonely nights self reflecting, and he had come to the revelation that his mind was missing a spark. And he was set on filling that vacancy. Whilst breaking into someone’s house could have been the furthest from best ways to deal with his conundrum, he was determined to let himself feel the fear, the curiosity and the excitement. Besides, was it really breaking and entering if the door gave way upon his knocking?
“Hello?” He called again just to make sure nobody was home. He liked how his voice didn’t feel so fragile as it escaped his throat. Whilst he was open to being less predictable and more adventurous, there was no way to completely abolish the timid, guarded side of himself.
Kotton nearly face-palmed himself. If there was someone here, how the hell would he hear them? This created another issue that added to his uncertainty toward progressing into the house. But… his inner child was screaming for attention. Kotton bargained with himself: he would experience this thrill for only a moment and then be on his way. He needed to do this. He needed to feel the rush of adrenaline that simply ambling about in nature couldn’t provide. He even spent a few moments wondering if this act of walking through a clearly neglected lodging was even worthy of being considered a thrill.
It was a bit silly to think that his considerations could have such a profound effect on him. There were those who dared to do more galvanising feats, but to him the act of plucking a flower from a neighbour’s garden was mischievous, maybe even criminal.
Kotton crossed the threshold into the house in a couple of strides. His long legs carried his limber frame to the first room. He was already in too deep to back out now. He might as well continue.
There wasn’t much on the first floor, just the front room and what he presumed to be the kitchen, at least at some point. Now, it was nothing more than a barren space with an empty ice box and rusted basin. The staircase to his left, he conjectured, must hold more promise. He tentatively climbed the rickety stairs, making sure he had one hand on the bannister at all times. He didn’t know how old this thing was.
He almost tripped upon reaching the landing, but thankfully managed to find his footing before tumbling back down the stairs.
Peculiar as it may be, there was only one room on the second floor. The door stood directly in front of him, closed but a crack. A sliver of light evinced through a sliver between the door and the wall. Kotton pushed it open with timorousness. He was readying himself for whatever was in that very room. The bark can sometimes be worse than the bite, for the room held nothing hostile inside.
Kotton strode to the room’s centre where a luxurious desk stood. The desk was about all there was in the room save for a chair and large lantern. There was a small window at the back wall that illuminated the cosy space, hardly enough light to read by, but enough to allow visibility.
On the desk was a leather-bound journal. There were markings on the tome that piqued the young man’s interest. Just the sight of it sent his rear careening into the chair, almost as if he owned the place.
Wonderment reigned dominion over all other emotions at this point in time. He carefully flipped open the journal to the first page, his nosiness contrived with hypothetical insights that had yet to be established.
She entered my house with a smile. Those ruby red lips framed her perfectly white teeth so elegantly. It would be a shame to have them bloodied, but He is telling me to do so. So I do. My knuckles have never hurt more than they have after landing a merciless blow onto her cheek.
Kotton immediately closed the notebook. What in the actual fuck did he just read? He looked to his left, to his right, and behind him to make sure he was still alone. Did he dare read on? Was his inquisitiveness that strong?
Afterwards, she just lay there, but apparently He wasn’t done. He told me to finish the job by taking-
Kotton had read enough. He slammed the journal closed, forced himself to stand and practically threw himself down the stairwell all in the attempt to escape the violence that had been documented in such a heinous declaration.
His sight was blurry as he descended the stairs, but he was not without the ability to navigate his way back to the front door. After he exited the building, he slammed the rotted door against the frame of the house and continued to sprint through the trees, back the way he had come from.
All the while his mind was racing with thoughts. What? Who? Why? When? There were so many questions he wished he could answer, but his eyes had already bled enough just skimming the idioms regaled in that insidious tome. He would have to come up with his own conclusion, and he most definitely would.
The world could be a horrible, horrible place. And as Kotton tried to remember the direction he had come from, he longed for home with more zeal than ever.