The world beyond the door was full of pitch-black darkness, no life, no sound, no name; there wasn't a single thing visible, just a stone hallway, endlessly creeping like the inside of a fossilized beast.
The only landmark was the dollhouse door behind her, glowing faintly., "I... This is not looking good."
Far ahead, a few flickers danced— maybe fireflies, maybe lamps— but they were too far to be trusted, feeling more like a dying star rather than a source.
"Let's not be idiotic."
Absentia ducked back into the dollhouse, searching through drawers and scattered belongings until she found a vintage oil lamp and some old cosmetics. They weren't exactly useful survival gear, but still, she grabbed them with the urgency of someone about to board a sinking ship.
Her porcelain fingers clicked against the metal as she twisted the dial.
*Fwoom*
With the flame flared to life, Absentia stepped forward. The lamp's flickering glow did little to chase off the ink darkness, and instead of piercing the permeating gloom of a corridor, it felt more like illuminating the inside of a closed mouth.
The only sound she could hear was the rhythm of her own heartbeat, followed by tiny footsteps and shy echoes that hesitated to ripple too far.
"I feel better... lighter..."
"..."
She turned to glance behind her, "Aren't you gonna shut the slam? This would be the perfect moment!"
The air swallowed the light of the dollhouse greedily, but that's it; at most, it made it hard to see the door.
"Thanks... at least I have a home then."
The road onwards was a straight corridor, nothing interesting, nothing amazing. She walked for what felt like minutes, porcelain feet tapping rhythmically against stone with an unnatural coordination, until she arrived at a crude fork road.
North, East, West.
Knowing she came from the south, she pulled out the lipstick and scribbled a shaky arrow pointing back toward the house.
"It's barely visible... I think I would be better off without it."
The corridors stretched out like veins in a long-dead god, with most light sources extinguished by the unstoppable march of time.
"Hello?! Someone?" She said into the nothingness.
She brushed the damp, cool walls, getting the tip of her porcelain nails caught on the rough stone. An awkward chuckle escaped, "It kinda feels cold. Heh..." It felt similar to when she dropped to the ground, like a phantom sensation.
"...Mmh..."
She began to hum, perhaps a memory from the past, or just some internal peace-seeking motion, "When you're rife with devastation, there's a simple explanation... You are a toymaker's creation!" She chuckled, "Trapped inside a crystal ball—"
Making random noises, it grounded her, because apart from her voice, the labyrinth was quiet in the worst way— like a place meant to trap sound itself, with every step, her breath caught in her throat, making the stillness press against her skull.
Every ten seconds or so, she continued this rite of marking the walls, painting lipstick arrows of different colors for different paths, which consisted of arrows, symbols, and even crude little drawings of a house.
"Huhuhuhu! As I said, I'm not stupid if I stick to the left, I'll never lose myself." She continued humming that incomplete song, speaking to the tone of it, "And maybe find someone before I start giving my shadow a name, because I'm pretty sure they would disapprove of this unhygienic monologue."
Another turn.
More silence.
Corridor.
Room.
...
"Oh..."
She quickly looked inside.
Compared to the outside, it was pristine... Too pristine.
In the center of this new room stood a massive, glittering chest, which shone like a carnival prize ready to be claimed by any lucky individual who came across it.
Her face twisted into one of pure disgust. Absentia immediately turned around to meet the imaginary camera that accompanies every person, "A GLEAMING CHEST, in the middle of nowhere..."
She didn't even bother glancing at it again. Just walked past, offended, like it had insulted her common sense.
She continued walking and walking.
More hallways. More silence. More nothing.
She cursed softly, "Hiaaa... I'm running out of lipstick-"
*Slurp*
"!!!"
Something moved in the periphery.
A shape.
Alive in this dead space.
Her eyes quickly changed size, hyper-fixating on the vague humanoid that formed in the shadows.
It should've been a miracle, it was proof of life inside this desolate place, but instead, terror full slammed into her like a freight train.
She felt how thousands of leaf-cutter ants crawled down her toe, painfully nibbling towards her head.
A humanoid figure, feminine in form but skinned in shape, her entire body was just raw red muscle wrapped elegantly, obscenely, around its towering frame. Its flesh folded unnaturally, forming what looked like robes with a transparent stomach permitting the internal organs to float visibly, like a living anatomy display.
In that mere second of getting into contact, Absentia instinctively turned her neck upwards to meet the face of the tall nightmare.
Bulging blue and red veins pulsed across its features. Its hair— no, not hair— tongue. One massive, writhing human tongue flowed from her scalp like a grotesque ponytail, coiled into place with a crown of jagged teeth.
Then the face opened.
Dozens of tiny, deep-blue irises opened along her face and chest, all turning, all watching her.
*Shrrrkk*
With a horrible tearing sound, the creature's face split open, revealing rows upon rows of saw-blade teeth that glinted wetly in the dim lamplight, forming a joyless red smile.
Delightful dread bloomed.
Danger
Absentia tried to back away slowly, resisting the urge to bolt, but the tongue-hair launched forward like a coiled whip, slicing through the air with terrifying speed.
She sidestepped with grace flowing through her legs, a grace that she didn't even know she had.
*CRACK*
The wall exploded beside her, fractured open like paper over stone. And not only that, but the air around her face felt sharp-thin, from just the displaced air.
Her vision narrowed. 'That could have killed me. No, that WOULD have killed me.'
She glanced at the gash left behind, feeling her chest tighten— Porcelain or not, she didn't want to find out how resilient to death she really was.
Her head buzzed.
IDIOT! WHY AREN'T YOU RUNNING?!
"RUN!"
She sprinted down the corridor, the dim lamp bouncing wildly at her hip. Behind her, she heard the sickening slap-slap-slap of the monstrosity's hunt.
The tongue-tendril whipped through the air, brimming with burning bloodlust.
Then a bone-shaking banshee, "SKRAAAAIIILLL-WAAAEEEYYYHHH." a skeletal scream from a throatless soul.
*Rattle*
She stumbled.
The corridor in front of her was extremely clean; the smell of it was sterile, unreal, too clean.
She turned.
The creature slithered into view, a massive, undulating form, a grotesque mimicry of a humanoid shape, lashing forward like a cannon shot.
"FRICK FRICK FRICK FRICK FUCK! THERE IS NO TIME TO CHOOSE ONE!"
Sliding under the incoming whip, she tucked and rolled— just in time.
The tendril slammed into the impossibly clean corridor ahead.
"SKRAAAAIIILLL!!!!!"
It twitched. Spasmed. Vibrated. Hissed.
There wasn't a better description than... It melted.
She grinned in short-lived triumph. "Ha—"
Her thoughts shattered like glass.
A reflection.
Another tendril.
From above.
Barely visible and just beyond the lamp's flicker.
Absentia pupils shrank to dot size, the impeding doom pressed violently with a hard grip onto her heart.
Its sharp end was mere centimeters away from brutally piercing her skull, turning her thoughts to porcelain dust, guts and blood.
She couldn't scream.
She couldn't move.
Only one thought consumed her: a suffocating, irrational terror of something touching her.
C H I R O P H O B I A