Just Beyond the Edges, eye ride
What happens when you venture deep into the bowels of the Underlook below the farmhouse in Gnaw Bone, Indiana? For those who may be new guests in the Underlook, allow me to introduce you. For those who have been guests here before, welcome back.
The Underlook was designed by Daedalus. Originally just an underground maze with as many dead ends and traps as the Winchester House, he redesigned it when the farmhouse was burned to the ground in the winter of two thousand twenty. When you first enter the hotel (you have to enter through the back door of the farmhouse), you descend the staircase. You do so with some doubt, because the staircase is really just a set of concrete steps that lead down to the basement. When you get down there, though, you're greeted by a grim bell hop. He hands you a key. He already knows what room you're looking for.
But what happens if you don't go to your room? What happens if you wander? I advise against it. But, at the same time, I encourage it.
It's still a labyrinth of twisting corridors, but dressed up with unsettling wallpaper that, if you look closely in some spots, is peeling back and revealing the dirt walls that it's covering.
So how deep do you want to go?
Don't pay attention to the bell hop. He'll try to stop you. What fun is he?
That's it. Follow me. I'm in the mood for some folklore. Something tells me a certain Astro Creep is waiting for you. Isn't that who you're here to see, anyway?
We walk through the corridors. The sound of the Eagles' 'Hotel California' can be heard playing on the speakers in the hallway. It's scratchy, and somewhat hard to hear. But the tune is unmistakable. We descend past the first floor... the second... the third... all the way down between the tenth and the eleventh. Your legs are tired. You see Pisces scurry from one room to the room across the hall. That's the one you'll want to go to. Oh, don't worry. Pisces kept it unlocked for you. Just walk on in. You won't scare her. She's expecting you.
Me? I think I'll stay here this time. Pisces will be your guide. She doesn't talk much, but she knows where to go.
You enter the room and she's waiting for you. To your surprise, she does speak. You don't expect her to move as quickly as she does into the darkness, so you nearly trip over yourself as you follow and try to keep up. You can feel the floor beneath you slant downward slightly. There isn't enough light for you to see your surroundings, but it seems like you're turning left constantly (how boring, right?). You assume that you're walking on a downward spiral of some sort of hallway, but you can hear noises that you're thankful you can't see. One noise is clicking. Like the sound of bones, or teeth.
You can hear Pisces ahead, her childish gown shuffling as she quickly guides you to your destination, and you begin to wonder if you're descending another ten stories in this desolate hallway hidden in this mysterious room.
A smell wafts your way, and your stomach turns. You stop suddenly as the smell is unbearable, put your hands on your knees, and vomit on the dark red carpet. It's the smell of death. Something is rotting in here. You hurl again, until you're just dry heaving, before you compose yourself and stand at full height. To your surprise, Pisces is inches from your face, impatiently glaring at you.
Pisces: Come on!
She turns and rushes back into the darkness and you follow, if for nothing else than in hopes that the smell will go away. In the midst of your rush, you don't even notice the corpse of Dead Seb leaning against one of the walls in the room. The smell softens, and eventually fades away altogether as you continue to follow. Just as you're wondering how much further, you nearly run right into Pisces, who stands with eerie stillness in front of an arched doorway. The door looks like it's been carved from some mystical tree. She points to it and turns her head to you. She giggles without her mouth moving, and then takes off back the way she came, leaving you alone here. You question whether she actually giggled or if it was just in your head, when a thud can be heard on the other side.
You sigh, but you've come this far already. There's no turning back now, right?
The hell there isn't, you think, as you turn to follow Pisces. But you nearly flatten your nose like those cartoons on a wall that wasn't there before. There literally is no turning back now. So, you rub your face, wiping the little bit of blood that's dripping from one nostril, and turn back towards the wooden door. And you push it open softly.
Tarrytown, New York
You step out of the tree and into the woods. In the distance, you can see a Native American chief float through a thick fog that hovers above the earth. Sounds of the night fill the air, which smells much different than the air at home; fresher, cleaner. That's the only comforting thing here, though. You decide on a direction to walk in, hoping to find a path that leads out of the woods.
To your horror, a skinny man is sitting against a tree trunk, slouched over and decapitated. You see trees, layers of trees. And beyond them, a clearing.
And that's where you see him. He's standing, with a shovel in his hand, next to a row of gravestones. Some of which have open graves in front of them, and some are freshly packed. Just beyond the edges, he rides. The Hessian specter called the Headless Horseman. He doesn't seem to see the gravedigger. And the gravedigger ignores the Headless Horseman. Instead, spotting you, he waves slowly, then motions you to come.
You oblige. Not by choice, necessarily. It feels like the stage in Mario where the screen forces you to move forward. You reach the clearing and step onto the sematary grounds. the gravedigger nods and steps aside, displaying the headstones, first the two that have been filled:
The Omen
Died of a Broken Heart
And beside the engraving, on the same headstone:
Rogan MacLean
Persistence Doesn't Always Lead to Success
He steps aside and points towards the three open graves and you gaze unto them with the sense of dread that everyone feels around the gravedigger:
Travis Pierce
Death by Deadair
Dave Rydell
See: Rogan MacLean
Vespertine
Death By Devil
You look back up at the gravedigger and he nods slowly and cheerfully. He waves at you, still clutching the handle of the shovel, spade up, tightly in his hand like a farmer holding a pitchfork. Suddenly you feel yourself floating backwards. You can hear the galloping approach you. And you know what he's after. You duck, hoping to evade, and just as you feel the wind from the midnight-colored horse pass through you...
...you wake up. In a pool of sweat? Perhaps that's not sweat. Let me ask you...
Which grave was yours?