Cursed objects at the local artist collective that just reopened near my work

My Christmas present for @cloudbattrolls arrived so now I can post this lil extra I included in the package :]

There is a pounding in your head. A cacophony of music reverberates in your skull. The whistle of a flute. The beating of a drum. A whispered folk tune. No one else can hear it but you.

You grip the handle of the knife tightly. The stench of rotten meat is suffocating. It’s all around you. It stains your clothing. It’s embedded in your nails. You taste it in your mouth. You feel sinew between your teeth. It covers the floor and embeds itself in the walls. Forms of flesh speak to you in a language you can barely understand. They scream in agony as you bring the knife down again, again, again. You don’t know why you’re crying. You feel so hungry.

You float in and out of dreams. The music screams in your head. The fire in your chest burns. Rage, rage, against the dying of the light. But why do you rage? You don’t know. You can’t stop it. You can’t stop the violence you can’t stop the anger you can’t stop the hunger you can’t stop the music you can’t stop-

In the haze of flesh and madness you see her. You see her gripping her sleeve tightly, her eyes wide with fear. You see her teeth chatter, the bags under her eyes, her tear-stained freckled cheeks, her unkempt hair. It’s the first time you’ve been able to see a troll’s face so clearly since you opened that damn book. How long ago was it? How long have you been under its spell? She opens her mouth, choking out the words she’s been holding back for so long.

“Glasya, I can’t. I can’t do this anymore.”