Rotted Soil

I was standing emotionless in the center of the main room. The rhythm of my heart was unsteady as I crept over to one of the guestrooms. Opening the door, I was greeted by an older man, possibly in his late 60s. I blinked, rubbing my eyes, as everything slowly began to distort. Explicit images of women's bare bottoms and odd depictions of feces scrolled along the walls, similar to a slideshow. The man now looked a bit off—diseased, or a nonhuman being.

Disgusted, I couldn't help but block the sight of it with my hand and attempt to run away through squinted eyes. The house is brittle yet solid. Where was I? I followed the main room's walls until I happened upon the basement door. With cotton in my ears, I used the stairs further down, darker and dimly lit, until I reached the bottom. The floor was muddied with dirt and filth and reeked of body odor. I hesitantly groped at my surroundings, my vision suddenly clearer. I scratched at my body, feeling bugs on my skin. I felt as if my heart was in my throat; it was the man again. How can I save him? Is he like this forever? He looked simultaneously pleased with himself and extremely embarrassed about his interests. The smell of rottenness and grime forcefully filled my nose. I retched, unable to use my hands against my face as a result of the fear of disease contaminating my mouth.

Backing away, I backtracked upstairs, only to trip on one of the steps. The sound of an unidentifiable thing speaking to me in a raspy voice, threatening me with some kind of sick joke. Shit. My limbs feel weak; it's hard to use them. I'm so fucking scared. As I finally reached the top of the stairs, I could see a woman now in the scarce light. The guestroom has begun to leak into the main room now, and nothing but those images were circling around. The woman was also nearly the same age as the man, but she looked very lifeless, and her movements were uncanny. Where the fuck am I? Can I escape? I ran to what I believed was the front door, only to enter a dark room with the sound of cicadas and crickets. I can't see a fucking thing. Am I outside? I smelled death. Nothing but rotted soil and stagnant air.

I wake up. The man and woman in front of me, only they look happier. Fuck, I'm finally out of there. I walked to the guest room. The same thing. The same fucking thing. The woman behind me, her eyes missing this time, I shoved her aside, seeing nothing but rooms and rooms. I was lost. The kitchen? Not anymore. Children? Fucking children? Please God, no. Help me, fucking god, get me out of here. The children were laughing and playing, but I couldn't make out their faces; it was too dark. They didn't look phased in the slightest. Not scared, not crying for help. I couldn't help but feel responsible for them. "Do you two need help?" I was choking on my fucking words. I felt lightheaded, and for a split second, I almost forgot everything.

What do you want from me? I just want this to end. I want it to all stop.