Whispers
Evanescence - Fallen

Simon Rockenfelder




down the stairs
not much to see in dim light
ahead just a few rotten boards with brass doorknob
puddles of mud and water in the doorway
enter room behind ­ if room it is
no ceiling, no walls on either side ­ just the floor
endless plains of grass slightly swaying in an unfelt breeze
somewhere in distance strange square objects standing
not to be identified, for distance is too far
faint sounds of swaying grass

muddy ground, moor-like consistency
not really easy to walk upon
feet are getting wet and cold...
wafts of mist in far distance and above...
must be walls and ceiling behind
rustling of grass seems to increase
square objects form circle of some sort
seem to be doors or wooden shelves

twilight not really helps to find easy path
still not much closer to objects
apparently framed pictures, but not much more than backs visible
rustling of grass even louder now
no door or wall behind, only the same gray mist
easy to get lost here

now nearly there
noise can't be called rustling anymore
feet are soaked and clotted with mud
can't even retrace your steps...
don't know how to find the door again
will think of solution later
framed objects definitely are pictures
fronts targeted to a specific point in center of circle

finally in center of circle
can hardly concentrate, for noise is deafening now
objects are mirrors, not pictures
show surroundings and yourself
but also show strange figures twisting in agony...
no gender identifiable, though utterly naked...
gray-feathered wings on the back, but somehow distorted
hands cramped tightly over ears, mouth wide open, as if screaming
rustling seems to hurt them

...noise is no rustling

seems to be a thousand voices yelling...

shouting your name

...is not the grass...

...not even the strange apparitions...

and suddenly you realize it is your reflections that are screaming madly


The Mansion