la danse macabre.

MURDER HOUSE. OUIJA BOARD. ASHES.

 “ It’s the Christmas spirit. I didn’t get to     raw someone under the mistletoe. ”     No it’s not. Do not believe him.

   "WELL, Christmas is still a month      away, you'll  get  your  chance  by      then. Yelling like a fucking psycho      won't get you anywhere, though."   

                      “ I WANT TO STAB SOMEONE RIP THEIR GUTS OUT                          AND CHEW THEM AND FUCKING SWALLOW THEM                          IN I WANT TO RIP THEIR BODY OPEN AND CRUSH                          THEIR ORGANS AND THROW THEM AGAINST THE                          WALL WORTHLESS FUCKING DIRTY BLOOD ALL                          OVER ME AS INSANITY TAKES OVER ME. I WANT                          THEM TO SCREAM IN TERROR, I WANT TO HEAR                          THEM PLEAD FOR THEIR LIVES I WANT TO PULL                          OUT THEIR VEINS AS STRINGS AND PLAY THE                          SONG OF DEATH I WANT TO MAKE THEM CRY                          AS I BREAK EACH BONE ONE FOR ONE. THE                          MALICIOUS CRACKING SOUNDS OVERW-                          HELMING ME AS I SQUEEZE THE BLOOD                          EMPTY FROM THEIR INTESTINES, MA-                          KING IT RAIN NOTHING BUT CARNAGE                           AND DREAD.  ”

     "COULD you tone your bullshit down?        Anyway, If you wanted carnage, you've        come to the right place — just  c h i l l."

From blood and pain come perfection.

   "YOU really ought to find better hiding       spots, Langdon — if you want to keep       on watching me." Her own was strong,       teasing the dead boy  as  he  revealed       his presence to her. Still Violet did not        even bother to look up from her book.       She had not decided what to make of        him just yet.

              ❛ um … i’m looking for Dr. Harmon? ❜

      "SORRY, but  Dr. Harmon  isn't  home,          he's probably  screwing  his student —          who  knows?" Little  ghost  replied with          a shrug, leaning her  back   against  the          wall, honey hues fixed on the impudent          wanderer. "You one of his patients?"

"Your tongue is leaden with lies, girl.” His tone was sharp, like a teacher rapping her knuckles with a ruler. “Stay away from him. It can smell him lurking… he is dangerous.” Moving to the window, he gazed out onto the street. “This is a beautiful house, despite the horrors that cling to the walls like a grime you cannot scrub away.”

   SHE BARELY stifles her laugh, letting        it freely erupt from her throat, unfazed        by the man's sharp words. Out  of  all        the ghosts residing in the house,   she        probably is the last one to be afraid of        the dead psychopath. "Whatever  you        say,  man."  Another   shrug,   another        small huff. "Tell me about it.  Blood  is         a fucking pain to scrub off,  especially        on these rotten floorboards."