The mansion hallways are pitch black at this time of night. Even though the orange sky drapes over the living room windows, you can barely make out the walk ahead of you. You hold your candle close to your face, shivering in the cold.
It is empty.
It is quiet.
This mansion hides secrets.
And you are [[alone]].
As you walk through the hallway, you forget why you came here. Something about truth, something about inner peace, something about loneliness. It eats away at you why you can't remember. But none of that matters now, in the hallway shrouded under the darkness. There's not even enough light to see yourself.
So you hold the candle up above your chest. You can no longer tell which way it is to get out. The lick of flame fights back against the darkness, but you know it is a losing battle. You can already feel the wax dripping down to the metal base. Soon you'll have to [[go without its light|go]].
The walls are covered in peeling wallpaper, Victorian in nature. You press your hands against the wooden railing on each side. There's chandelier gas lamps jutting above your head, but they no longer work.
Once again, you have the vague recollection you know the reason why you're here. But the memory [[eludes you|remember]].
And so you walk.
And walk.
And walk.
The wax on the candle drips down the shaft.
And onto the floor.
And onto your hand.
But you push onwards. That is, until you see something small and tiny, shining [[down the hallway|dining room]].
There's something golden glimmering at the end of the hall, twinkling in a room cast with dim light. It doesn't throw any light into the dark, but the shimmer dances in the middle of it — shifting, flickering, constantly moving.
You realize it's a chandelier light, hanging above a long dining room table.
You walk further down the hall, holding your candle tight. The aisle is becoming darker now, as the candle burns to a fade. But you can see the doorway coming towards you, and as you approach the frame, you realize the dining table is in the middle of an [[enormous ballroom floor|ballroom]].
The chandelier gives off subdued light around the table. The walls are dark, covered in blue twilight. Two windows sit on the left, showing off the empty night sky — but throwing no moonlight into the room.
You put your spent candle down onto the ground and look closer at the [[table in the middle|table]].
When you look closer, you notice you are no longer alone. There are three women sitting at the table, their hands in their laps. White china sits in front of them, empty.
Among the three girls, you see:
One with blonde hair.
One with long hair.
One with freezing blue eyes.
They glance over at you, neither frowning nor smiling. And then the one with cold blue eyes [[opens her mouth to speak|speak]].
"We've been expecting you," she says. "You're late to supper."
You stand, silent. The one with long hair motions towards you.
"It's important not to keep your friends waiting."
"And we missed you," the blonde haired one tells you. "We missed your presence. We couldn't begin the meal without you."
You walk closer towards the three girls. Each of them are staring at you, hands in their laps, napkins over their knees. The blue eyed girl smiles.
[["Have a seat, won't you?"|seat]]
You look down. There's a fourth chair waiting for you, sitting at the table. A china plate rests, empty, with a silver fork and knife laid out for the meal.
You pull back the chair and take a seat, looking at the three guests.
"Don't you remember us?" the long haired girl asks. "We're your friends."
"Your best friends."
"The closest people you know."
"The only ones you [[know]]."
You say nothing, but keep your hands to your sides. The blonde haired girl leans forward, smiling.
"You shouldn't be so rude to your friends. You're an important part of us."
"And we're an important part of you."
The blue eyed girl looks at you. Her hands are on her silverware, the overhead light flicking over her hair.
"You're too shy. You're among sisters," she says. "After all, you're just in time for the [[main course|course]]."
You look around the table. Red, pulsating organs rest on each plate. They leak blood like sausage juice, dripping onto the clean dishware.
The long haired girl has eyeballs.
The blonde haired girl has intestines.
The girl with the blue eyes has liver with a side of bladder.
The sound of metal clanging against china rings in your ear. The long haired girl draws a fork and knife to her plate, cutting across a fine sliver of [[optic nerve]].
Your left eye grows dark, flickering in and out of focus. The blue eyed girl places her hand on your wrist, staring you in the eyes.
"Your food is getting cold," she says. "Come on, look down at your plate."
You hold a hand over your eye as you look down. Your lungs, pink and fleshy, rest in front of you. With each breath they expand, with each gasp they shrink. Your face grows numb and cold.
"Don't be rude. Eat," the blonde haired girl tells you.
"You're embarassing yourself."
"How selfish, throwing away all our hard work."
You sit still in your chair, watching as the blonde haired girl pokes at the intestine with her fork. Your lower belly cries out in agony, as you feel your vision grow [[dark|hurting]].
"What an ungrateful friend," the blonde haired one says.
"Hardly appreciative," the long haired one hisses.
"Her ego got in the way of her, in the end."
You collapse in your seat, your entire vision turning black. You can feel warm blood pour out of your mouth and eyes, unrelenting as you gasp for [[breath]].
"Well, at least she made for a good meal," the blue eyed girl laughs, polishing her mouth as you [[pass out]].
end.