Catacombs 'neath the Chapel
You're walking home late one night when you pass a dilapidated gray brick chapel wedged between two apartment buildings. Odd, you think to yourself, Has this always been here? Though it must have, and for quite some time, as the front door is boarded up. Through the broken windows, however, you catch a whiff of incense and spot the telltale glow of candlelight. Curiosity getting the better of you, you check the frame for glass shards, and gingerly climb in.
Feet crunching on old debris, you make your way around to the altar, where the incense seems to be wafting from. At first, you spot nothing out of the ordinary... and then you hear an ominous creaking below you. A trapdoor, dusty and rusty, but slightly ajar. Undaunted, you lift the hatch and descend the wooden ladder.
Hello, and welcome to my... admittedly grimy abode. Face masks in that box over there if you're allergic to dust like I am, yet extremely committed to the aesthetic. Don't worry, none of that surgical blue crap; these are all imported, and range from pastel orange and yellow, to navy blue, dark gray, and purple. I lugged a generator down here and have tea in the works, and there are also plenty of places to put your feet up for the night. Or day. Whatever.
Chat with me, before I pick up a stray skull and start reenacting Hamlet. |
