The Room by Chachii Haitsyew

Creaking churns the stomachs of the forgotten souls that have fallen victim to the room.  Cries of terror scar the darkened oak walls that seem to be ageless; hidden in the marble tiles' crevices are blood stains from darker days.

Nameless are the ones of the past, for there are too many lost in the devastation that lurks within the room, consuming all that couldn't control their curiosity or was ignorant to the facts behind the room.  It lives deep in a forgotten forest, where few come, and very little go. The area in which this all takes place looks lively and joyful, but what those unaware will soon find out, this is but a mask upon reality.  The keeper of the room's presence is a stone house built from the sands of time washed over and over by the waterfall just a few meters from the building itself.  The area encompassing the walls of unmentionable fatalities is a place you would expect wildlife, though everything seems bare except for the lime green blades of grass.  The only thing that is living is the room.  The room that consumes all that goes in, leaving nothing but memories outside.  The well flourished lawn gives the official invitation, though with neither a garden nor plant life other than the lively blades of grass you'd see but once in a long while in one's own yard.  It all looks like the average household to anyone not suspecting a thing, stone walls, fitted perfectly like Tetris blocks; much like the shingled roof that gives anyone shelter to whomever lives inside.

So begins the story of a man, not much older than 20, who was just a visitor not from this area.  He would never forget this day, quite the sight to behold, with such a story to tell if they make it out of the room...  For the first time in a long time, the man would feel fear, agony, and an unfathomable amount of other feelings unable to describe in such context.

Blaine, the average man with an adventurous attitude, sets foot in the vast and dense forestry where many have never returned.  Unaware of this, he beholds a great fate that many know of, but none can tell the tale-- they never got the chance. A few hours into his walk, he noticed a bizarre case where the scenery was virtually the same.  He takes his compass out of his rugged, although relaxing, jeans. He notices it is acting awry, deviating as if some outside force is intercepting the functionality of the mechanism.  Frustration drips from his face as he clings to the device as his only hope. "What could be wrong?" he ponders to himself, as if the trees or the birds would answer his inquiry.  At another glance, time seems to be still... Blaine's watch ominously frozen in timelike waterin an artic winter.