The Guest

Chilling air hit my face in a sudden blast of power, the smell of decay still lingered and filled my mind with memories of when this was a happy place. I turned to face the wall of delicate patterns created by centuries of children but now the patterns had faded into a deep crimson. I sighed in dismay and despair as I sat in my leather chair, leaning my head on my fist as I stared almost trance like at the wooden door where my guest slept.
The door was of a dark spruce with black latches with diamond shapes across the door, much like a medieval door to some extent. The wood looked fragile, that one wrong hit would shatter it completely but it was surprisingly sturdy. I guess that turn of phrase was correct, you should never judge a book by it's cover.
It was deadly silent in the manor where the only sounds coming from my guest and myself, the only people living inside the manor. I stood and brushed myself off, having sat there mesmerised by the door so long that I myself had started to collect dust. I smiled to myself as I heard the heavy breathing from my guest slow down. Poor dear must've had a nightmare but they seem content now.
I walked towards the kitchen and started to grab ingredients for my famous soup. I chopped the ingredients, cutting myself several times which I cared little to none about; the only care I had was the fact that it got into the soup. I delicately picked up my guest's medicine and shook some into the soup, tapping my nail rhythmically against it and creating a small tear in the label. I tutted to myself, put the medicine away and stirred everything together; carrying it to my guest.
I loved that I wasn't alone. No, not anymore. When they arrived I rejoiced and ushered them into my estate with haste. I smiled wide as they looked upon me and they were very grateful when I got their medicine, but it made them very drowsy so I showed them to my guest room.
Returning to the here and now I opened the door and closed it behind me, seeing scratch marks on my precious wood doors. I sighed and tutted in remorse, my guest was having one of those moments again. I looked around the room and I saw them nowhere. I began to worry and placed the soup on the bedside table when I felt a strong blow to the back of my head. I crumpled to the floor, bleeding profusely from my head as I gave my last utterance:
"You ungrateful guest".
Category:Mental Illness