Prologue - Lucid Dreams

The floorboards creaked under his boots, the sound resounding in the silent room like a gunshot. His skin crawled with unease, gooseflesh rippling its surface with bumps as he waited fearfully for a response to his uninvited presence, heart thumping against his rib cage like a drum. The moment passed, undisturbed. The house was empty. He released a relieved breath.

On easier steps, Tamaska explored further into the dilapidated home. With no recollection on the events prior, he was left with one decision. Keep going. Tamaska studied the dark walls, paint fading and flaking to reveal the off-white base color beneath. Wires hung from the ceiling, drooping from flickering, fluorescent bulbs.

As he neared the bottom of a staircase, a sound broke the previous stillness. The scrap of metal came from above, the quiet, familiar snick of a blade through flesh reverberated through him, feeling unbearably loud.

Like a siren's song, he was drawn towards it. With a chill in his bones and soft smoke from his breath, he walked up the flight of stairs to meet a door. His heart restarted its furious attempt of escaping his chest. There was something about the unassuming door that screamed of danger. A feeling similar to a child's fear of the dark, their imagination cultivating monsters from the shadows.

Tamaska pushed on the rusted handle, hearing the door squeal as the sight of a figure came into Tamaska's view. The individual was covered in dark clothing with a hood waterfalling down the length of his long body from the base of his deer skull.

"No." Tamaska gasped as lightning lit the man's skull mask. He stepped back on instinct, slipping slightly on the floor. He chanced a glance down only to blanch. Blood pooled at his feet, coating the wood floors like a polish.

The masked man pulled a large blade from the back of his unassuming victim, blood drenched the bedsheets, the floral wallpaper, the night stand. Everything.

The man snapped his head towards Tamaska, eyes flashing from behind the mask. His blood froze, feeling as if someone threw him down a mountain. Tamaska, with whatever guts he had, bolted.

Except, instead of a staircase, a hallway met him, stretching back as far as the eye could see. Endless. He ran and ran and ran, until his lungs were heaving and his vision blurred from sweat, and still, he ran.

With each step, more and more bodies appeared from the darkness, all mangled and grotesque. Each one had black, empty holes where their eyes once were, carved out and weeping blood. Their innards were spread out like a feast, spilling from the bodies and sprayed on the walls. Tamaska felt sick, nauseous. His stomach rolled, bile sour and hot in his throat, but his body refused to throw up. Almost as if it wanted to see this.

Suddenly, from the end of the hallway emerged the masked man. Tamaska skidded to a stop, feeling his heart drop to his stomach. They stood at a standstill, until all at once, the masked man charged. Tamaska tried to back up, but his feet remained stuck to the floor. Unmoving despite his best efforts. He couldn't retaliate.

The man drew his knife from the folds of his clothes, sprinting like hell, like Tamaska was his last chance. Tamaska's body shook, fear overwhelming his every sense, he couldn't think, couldn't feel, couldn't move.

And then, the man stopped. The knife just inches away from Tamaska's eyes, as if trying to cut into them. Tamaska forced himself to look away from the knife and at the masked man. They met eyes, except, the deer skull had hollowed eyes with no human behind it. The thing put its finger to its lips, its mouth curving into a smile, a low, hissing noise escaping from behind its teeth,

"Shhhh..."