Fissures in the roof of the cavern ooze. Water drops into a pool methodically, like the ticking of a clock. The sound of each drip sends a ping which echoes in the cavern as if it is the first sound ever to touch the darkness. Rock teeth jut from the floor, creating a mouth which yawns at the entrance, daring anyone to enter. A dank smell stands guard to repel anyone who may have ventured this far. It festers in the still air, like a pile of garbage left to rot in the sun.
The darkness suffocates. It fills the space, like water fills a glass, until it seems there is no room for anything else. The darkness allows a chill to control the air. Not a chill which raises one’s hair, but one which sees any form of warmth as an intruder. The chill reaches to the source of the warmth and engulfs it, pairing with the darkness to overwhelm it and defend their territory. They press against everything in the cavern, allowing for no escape.
Bits and pieces of the past litter the more prominent points. A fragment of frayed fabric hangs between a few of the fingers. A scrap of paper clings to another claw. Shards of glass litter the floor, like confetti scattered everywhere after a party.
A flame, secluded in a corner, struggles to assert itself. Angrily, the darkness struggles to extinguish it, but to no avail. Its flickering reveal hints that this place has not been completely void of life. The coals drive the chill from their tiny sphere of influence.. The golden flame is a beacon of hope, like the blinking of a lighthouse through the fog. The golden light of the flame turns to silver as it jumps off the glass, adding a small amount of color to the otherwise dreary cavern. Once past the sentries at the door, adventure and a story is to be found, for one brave enough to push through.
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