Jack Ferriman (ocean_styx) wrote in thedollsyhouse,
Jack Ferriman
ocean_styx
thedollsyhouse

If you're going through hell, keep going. {Closed/Finished.}

Characters: Jack && open.
Setting: East Hallway {first floor}
Time: dusk.
Summary: A late entry, a feeling of dread, and a few illogical assumptions.
Warnings: None, yet.



How he had ended up in the house, he didn't know, but he had his assumptions. One moment he had been talking himself out of a rather sticky and painful situation and the next moment he was waking up in some random house, straight out of the 1800's. The house was seemingly even older than he was, and yet nothing seemed to be as dilapidated as it should have been. Nothing was falling apart as much as he would expect something so old to be, but he was still a little groggy and confused by his new environment, so he could have very well just not taken proper note of it. One thing was sure though, he had the feeling that he had woken up in a place that he didn't want to be.

It was his first death all over again, but all the fire and brimstone was replaced with bad wallpaper and creaky floors.

It had even gone with the same method of execution, if you wanted to put it that way. He had been caught off guard with a whack to the back of the head in the middle of the night with something that certainly wasn't a pillow, which was a significant feat for the person who had done so, all things considered. He'd have given them credit if it hadn't have hurt so much, and if it wouldn't have taken the liberty to go for a second blow. It had been the second that had been his downfall, his literal downfall because after that he was quite sure he had hit the ship's deck with what he would assume to be yet another solid crack. One of his hands moved up to touch the back of his head gingerly as if he expected to find a cracked skull, not that he assumed much more than a headache to come out of it.

Being dead already did have it's advantages, not having to worry too much about bleeding into your own brain for a terribly long time was only one of them.

With his hand still exploring the back of his head to be sure there was no tell-tale signs of trauma, he stepped out of the strange and dark area he had found himself in and into a rather nice hallway. He paused, however, as the marble flooring squeaked beneath his slick boots. Upon entering the hallway fully he was met with an odd feeling, a sick feeling that he really wasn't accustomed to. The only way he could think to describe it was dread, but dread didn't typically make bile rise in his throat and remind him that he hadn't been able to say no to a plate full of appetizers (maybe he didn't have an appetite, but he still had a sense of taste). He assumed this was going to be one of those predator bumping heads with whatever was one more notch above the food chain things. Was the management lurking about the area? That could be bad.

He had apparently spent way too much time in hell if that was his automatic assumption for the cause behind a 'bad feeling.'
Tags: !complete, !night 001, jack ferriman (ghost ship), rayne (bloodrayne)
Subscribe
  • Post a new comment

    Error

    Comments allowed for members only

    Anonymous comments are disabled in this journal

    default userpic

    Your IP address will be recorded 

  • 10 comments