The screams echo through these hollow walls.
The fungus on the ceiling pours its rancid tears,
deteriorating and eating the brittle wooden floorboards.
A rat knocks over a fifty-year-old bottle of absinthe that seeps into the cracks of the floor.
A skull nestled underneath opens its mouth and gets the first drop it has had in decades.
The lack of a palette ensures that it tastes nothing.
Feeling empty, it cackles and the sound fills the halls.
Meanwhile, a worm crawls into its eye socket, screams in terror, and crawls back out hastily.
The ooze from the fungus drips from the ceiling and runs over the skull’s eye socket.
A roach crawls from the night into a crack of a dirt covered window and drops dead.
The skull looks up at the wall above him from a crack in the floorboards,
staring at the portrait of a beautiful woman covered in cobwebs and dust.
Blood pours from her acrylic eyes and drips into what was once the skull’s nose.
The skull wonders how long its torment will last.
Suffering should end at death, but alas, it still lives to anguish,
To rot and decay and to suck the life out of everything around it.
The Lady In the Portrait grins at the skull, her cackle making the Man in The Moon wince.