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Mad Spire

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Silence.

That was what unnerved Ada the most.

The silence.

The eerie stillness of the room.

No footsteps, no echoes, no heavy breathing - nothing. Absolutely nothing. No noise except the creaking when Ada shifted around. She was almost sure no one else was in this unknown abyss. Just herself, and the mysterious chair she had been placed in.

And yet with each passing moment spent in this pitch black room, Ada could feel a presence all around her, slithering around in the air like a predatory serpent. It wrapped around her small, lithe form, encompassing her, oppressing her.

Ada didn't have the courage to try and escape; she remained seated in the uncomfortable chair, just in case whoever brought her here actually remained still in the darkness, ready to strike.

Ada couldn't make anything out inside the room. Whatever lights were in this room hadn't been turned on yet, most likely to keep her on edge. All she could do was feel, feel the unknown presence, feel the patchy velvet on the back of her thighs, the coldness of the musty air.

At last, with apprehension, Ada slowly lifted up her bare foot from the rough carpet. Within a few moments, the top of her foot connected with an object, revealing the limited amount of leg room. From the rough texture and cold temperature, it felt like the back of another chair. With a sense of caution, Ada then began to move her right arm away from the armrest, slowly swinging it out to test her surroundings. She felt the top of a backrest- another chair.

A row of chairs, she thought.

A theater. Ada was in some kind of theater.

Right as Ada figured out the location, the area in front of her lit up. She gasped, her body tensing up, arms instinctively coming back towards her chest. The spotlights had turned on, she realized, and illuminated the red-and-yellow-striped curtains, the ends of the fabric stained with some rust-colored substance.

This room... oh god.

Ada began to panic, her breaths coming out in loud gasps as she began to hyperventilate. She subconsciously drew her legs closer to her body while her hands gripped the head of the armrests tightly, her knuckles turning bright white. Ada remembers this theater; she remembers the performers on stage, now shielded from view by the blood-stained curtains.

She remembers his face.

She remembers their bodies.

She needs to leave.

Suddenly, the high-pitched squeaking noises of old pulleys dominated the room, bringing Ada back from her mind.

The curtains began to open.

Ada's eyes widened. No.

She wasn't ready to face him. She never wanted to see the monster ever again.

She threw her hands over her face, shielding her from the stage, and closed her eyes.

Suddenly, Ada felt her body lift up from the theater seat below. Her feet weren't touching the carpet anymore. She relaxed her eyes, and moved her hands from her face, resting her arms by her sides. A small part of Ada wanted to open her eyes and see what was happening, but the rest of her wasn't ready to see her tormentor yet. She silently waited for someone- something- to reach out and grab her. Yet nothing ever came for her in this new darkness.

Despite the terror of this situation, Ada felt calm, completely detached from her previous state of fear. She couldn't feel the invisible creature in the air anymore; she couldn't even smell the mustiness of the theater. She couldn't feel anything, except a slight chill all around her. Ada was somewhere else entirely.

She was floating. She was free.

Then, the monster spoke.

“Welcome to the horror show, Ada..”