I blinked twice. Checked three times. But I couldn't figure it out. It seemed... nothing was holding these arms up. They just floated there, resting against the wall but never touching the ground. Making an "L"shape with my hand, I positioned the right side of my index finger just to the left side of the axe handle. Hesitation. I cautiously applied pressure towards the axe. Nothing. I pushed against the axe. Nada. I shoved my palm repeatively against the handle, grunting with each thrust. I hurt my wrist. Taking a step back, I rubbed the soreness from my hand and looked over the tall, boney axe. Somehow, all these pieces were firmly fitted against the wall and refused to budge.

This must have been the day of realizations because I had just noticed one more thing. This room only had one door. The one which has closed behind me. The one which had upon its back, a rather large vampire-ish looking skull with a handle grip dripping from its mouth and five various lengthed scythe-like blades from its bone-carved hair. This room had the same warm, enticing, glow (maybe even more so) as the rest of the house, but something about being closed in a room with floating murder tools sent a sudden chill up my spine. You know the feeling when you're talking to someone, then you look and the person you were talking to turns out to be a complete stranger? Completely unrelated situation (which has happened to me way too many times), but that's the feeling.

I've had enough of this room. Aiming my hand for the doorknob, just to the left of the vampire skull's smallest fang, I closed my eyes and reached for it. A rock-like texture dragged against the back of my hand as I turned the knob. My teeth pinched together and I pulled the door towards me. Quickly jumping through and closing it right after. I shuddered, forcing the skull's stagnant glare to become a distant memory. I wouldn't mind looking around more, some of the armor was artisticly attractive, but I'm not that "in" to violence or its fashions. I exited the empty room and entered the living room.

"Food" graced my mind once again. I still haven't found that storage room. Where could it be? Ding! Ding! Underneath the staircase a narrow door seemed to chime at me.
Good god, how did I miss that?
I rubbed a soar spot on my back, I grimmiced then walked over to the door. Extending my hand, the door started to shake as if in fear.
What the-?
No. The door wasn't shaking. I was shaking. No. Everything was shaking. The glass panels on the windows jittered. Soot and ash shot out of the fireplace as the flames whipped the air violently sending vivid orange red reflections across the polished floor. I shrieked and fell to my knees. The stinging feeling of my bare flesh molded with the vibrating of the floor. A pounding buzz, which sounded almost like dozens of high pitched trains racing each other, forced its way through the house. I wrapped my arms around my head and laid straight on my face.

The whole expierence was disorienting. The shaking of the house drived deep into my skin and made me feel numb all over. I could hardly tell whether or not I was still on the floor. The stairs screeched, I heard wooden plates and bowls hit the floor in the kitchen. Outside birds were calling and one by one all these things seemed to blur together. I couldn't tell how long the buzzing and shaking had been going on but I felt more and more like it was going to last longer than I was. A headache had started in my temples and was getting stronger as all the sensations were absorbed into it. Then the headache started to subside. All the other sounds and feelings blurred together, they all seemed to collide and fade. My eyes felt swollen and I could only assume that I had closed them. Moving with the floor, I knew it was still shaking but it felt solid beneath me. Everything else seemed to swirl above, slowly becoming a shadow that was blanketing me, thick and heavy. I now felt comfortable. Then it stopped.

Nothing was shaking. My eyes were opened. Maybe I never closed them. Flickers of the fireplace soon quieted and wiggled normally. It was as if nothing had happened, but I felt cold and damp. I slowly picked my upper body off the floor and looked toward the last unexplored door. There was a silence outside and a ringing in my ears. My arms still shook, I laid backwards and looked at the roof.
I don't want to move until Tremarch comes home...

I laid for a long time. Staring at the ceiling, staring at the back of my eyelids, staring at the doorway above my head. I was scared that if I moved that Thing would start again.
What was that "Thing"? What just happened?
It felt like I had woken up from a dream. Slowly hunger pains, once again, started to build up on me and I sat up. My whole body felt tired. Picking myself up, I looked over at the door which I assumed was the storage room. I quickly decide against opening it and stagger for the kitchen.

Grabbing the match book, I light one and throw it in the center of the table. The cauldron was on its side at the other end of the room. I pick up a bowl off the floor and head for the bucket of left over stew, against the wall on the other side of the table. I scoop out some stew and toss the bowl after the match. It splashes half of the stew onto the lightly lit coals.
How come none of the wood burns around here?
Hunching over the table with my fingers dangling in its center, my mind blanked, but I could feel the coldness of lonliness. The house was too quiet.
I've been away from home for months. How is it that now I decide to feel lonely?
I rested my head against the insides of my elbows until the smell of spilt stew starting to burn registered in my brain. I lifted my head and looked. The stew on the coals was bubbling and a thin, dark thread of smoke seeped up from it. Grabbing a fuzzy towel off a counter top, I pulled the bowl out from the middle of the table. There was a dirty fork already on the table. I wiped it with a fold from my dress then stabbed a piece of meat and dragged it through my teeth. It was still cold. I followed the meat with a potatoe and continued to pick the chunks out of the bowl. I'm getting cramps. I think about going to my room but an icey shiver in my ribs makes me forget the thought. I push the sloppy bowl out of the way and rest my head again. I don't fall asleep until I move to the floor and watch the glowing coals beneath the table.