You know what
Fuck it
Tell me your honest thoughts on this:
The walk to the old antique shop, once a vibrant, sunshine-yellow building away, but it stood out. As you approach, the building reveals its peeling paint, exposing the rotting wood beneath. The door handle and door appear as if maggots have gnawed them as you push it open, stepping into the dusty, aged interior.
‘Why were you there? Are you just trying to get a story?’ A voice echoes, reminiscent of broken piano keys. Yet, the source remains unseen.
The ancient floorboards creak like a haunted house as you tread carefully, aware that a single heavy step could cause them to give way.
The sound of your footsteps suggests solitude—until a second set is heard, prompting you to turn quickly. It’s merely a creepy old oak bookcase filled with porcelain clown dolls, ranging from hobos to rainbow clowns, including one that resembles Bozo too closely. However, one human-sized figure catches your eye. It sits in a rocking chair, its limbs infested with maggots.
This black and white clown marionette, stripped of any strings, has joints stuffed with tissue paper and maggots. It appears to be designed as a female, unnaturally slender. The dress it wears looks like a chaotic mix of sweater strips and piano keys.
An old photo album rests on her lap; you step closer to seize it. ‘Why must you be naughty and take things that aren’t yours?’ That same piano-like voice sang out.
But it wasn’t you or the marionette. Whom could it be?
The marionette lacks a mouth, possessing only a nose and disproportionately large eyes hidden beneath the victory rolls it sports. You grasp the photo book, feeling as though it might crumble to green dust with the slightest misstep. As you pull away, its maggot-infested hands lunge for your arms with a sharp snap, yanking you back to face it.
“Story time?” It finally spoke aloud, the voice so much louder now. As it yanks the book away from your hands. It then flips through the pages like a maniac as it holds up a photo of a man and a woman in front of a much newer form of the building you are in now.
The woman looked paper-pale, with rosacea. She had curly black hair and blue eyes. The man looked to be mixed, with cornrows in his hair and deep green eyes that seemed to stare into your soul. The woman wore a green sweater and jeans; she looked pissed to be there. The man wore a trench coat on top of a Korn shirt and jeans. He looked pleased to be there.
“This story will have gore, love, and unfortunately misery. This is the story of Urquhart and Odette.” The Marionette giggled. As it flips open the book.
“Poor thing just wanted a life, but unfortunately she was voted to give the new guy in town a tour. She will be our view of this story today. But unfortunately such a filthy mouth.” It giggled, and a maggot spat out onto your clothes.
