Throughout the upper floors they came upon many signs of the cultists’ presence: fair statues and paintings crudely altered, religious items defaced, sorcerous scrawls, rotting filth. Clothing, especially of children, they found slashed, scorched, and scattered. There was a small prayer book, and somehow all the writing had been turned backwards as if in a mirror. That rich and elegant mansion was like a dollhouse which had been infested by rats.
They found another cultist, sitting languidly in an armchair. He looked up at the inspector as if he recognised him.
“So you’ve come at last, and with your beautiful hound. Well, I have nothing to do; take me to my master.”
Allen put him in manacles and told him to come quietly.
“Happy to,” he said, smiled, and slumped forward. He was dead.
(Excerpt from a project nearing completion).
#DailyCreatedOOM #WrittenOOM 2023/05/09