This place seems old.

Very old.

No torchlights just fire torches.

No guns just pitchforks.

As you followed the man in that covered cape , you passed by the dungeon.

There were no dried up bones of prisoners who died from dehydration nor headless bodies instead there were only shadows.

Dark shadows.

They sat in corners of the cell.

Avoiding those firetorches that hung on the sides.You could feel their stare on the walls of your skin.

You thought.

Am I a prisoner too?

But once both of you passed the dungeon, you knew you were safe.

Soon you reach a silent yet eerie hallway where webs hungs and rats run about.

It stenched real bad.

You were still in your rain boots and you could feel them sink into some gooey substance on the ground.

The ironicness? Either there were no windows or the curtains were not drawn.

Time passed real slowly until you saw a portrait of you.

Not one but several. Till then you realize.........