Story 1

   A drip of fear was coming from the ceiling. Or was it just that cold, yellowish fluid? Perhaps. It was dark, cold, and a layer or… steam? Musk? Some gas coated the floor so densely that at some areas, you could not see the cold, stone floor. It also had a much thinner presence through out the room. The walls were made of a very dark gray, stone brick. Moss clung to them so tightly you would think they were a father and son who were sharing a hug after being separated for a long, dreadful stretch of time. No windows. No food or drink. If this was a torture chamber of some sort, it must have been quiet isolated, for not a single scream could be heard coming from other rooms. Only a horrible ambience that resembles the woful cries of a ghoul. The room was about the size of your average living room, only ten times taller. A perfect square as well. No doors. No windows. No source of light. The man assumed he must have been here for a while for his eyes to adapt to the darkness, or else there could not be any way he could see in this… this… purgatory.

   Why was the man here? The details of his life escaped him. Although the vague idea of a possible crime haunted him. Murder? Thievery? Treason? Why did it even matter. He proceeded to look about the room with a higher level of scrutiny. The mortal could not find the strength to raise himself to his feet. When he looked down to his legs, he was terrified to see that his trousers were shredded, and stained with blood. His legs were even worse. They bared the marks of some horrid form of torture. THe flesh was peeling off, and blood dripped from the many deep slices in his flesh. A dark green infection was plaguing most of the lacerations. and yellow puss was oozing out. Worse yet, his sudden realization of his injuries caused a surge of pain to overcome his body. He writhed in agony, moaning like a starving animal thrown to rot in a cage. He was like this for many an hour, until he controlled himself.

    The man had to find a way out of the room. He was cold, hungry and injured. He dragged himself over the dap stones, feeling against the walls for a sign of hope. None appeared. He was the only living thing in this chamber. Not even rats roamed about. Perhaps not even he was living. He felt like a husk, rotting away alone. Hope was nowhere to be found in this dungeon. Was alone. this is where he would die. His sanity was escaping him, the quickness of it's escape was accelerating every second. His mood changed rapidly, his blood pressure rose and dropped. he was about to die. alone. In this wretched tomb that housed all of his sins. But he would not die a rested soul.