#the odeon

The Odeon again, without, and with an ethereal mist filter

The Odeon. Legend.

Motes floated through the rafters. The gaps between the oak stared like an open mouth, the splintered edges, a conglomeration of teeth in a myriad of conjoined smiles. Isaac turned away from the ceiling to face the wall. Scorched black and soft with mold. Isaac assumed it was a sudden fire. A candle set too close to some paper or a cigar left burning. A family left asleep, oblivious to the danger. After having finished their suppers, they all retired to their rooms, eager and ready for bed. All of them succumb to a greater sleep. To death. The marks were old, but not forgotten. The entire room was painted over in soot. An accident. A mistake.