Picture, Picture on the wall.

I paid for my meal leaving me with one hundred and thirty-five dollars but I had no worries. In three days I would be out of this dank town which I would later realize in the most bizarre of events it was first known as Misty Cresent before its name became Drakesville.

I walk the short distance to the Maze Inn and push open the oak door of the well-kept establishment. The interior of the receival room was fitted with plush burgundy chairs with armrests so slender they were no doubt for style rather than for its purpose of being armrests.

In the middle of the room was a semi-circular stylish desk of dark mahogany, on it was a gleaming handheld silver bell and a leather-bound guest book with a long silk bookmark of gold knit threading resting between its open pages.

I look about to see if anyone would come forth from the closed door behind the desk or down the long staircase, but all I saw were silk curtains so soft they appear to ripple like red wine being poured into a slender wine glass, potted plants so green they appear plastic and on walls that were not cover by silk drapes or broken by a window intricately place paintings of what I soon discover to be the forests that surround the Drakesville rested in lifelike splendor.

I walk up to one of the paintings as if drawn there like a wretched sailor to a siren's song. In that picture I see a house so resplendent that I drank in the features of its tall victorian towers, its open bay windows precisely line above each other as it went up a floor along with its intricate inlay of orange-red bricks.

I took in the way the running flowers hug it with their delicate wisps. I stare at the artistical landscaping of the lawn plants and the small gardens that border the steps that lead up the pillared veranda and the sleeping porch of the captivating house.

I could feel my feet walking on the pebbled walkway, my fingers gliding against the dome shapes trees as the scent of roses, hibiscus and jasmine filled the air. I saw myself now standing by the small wall that cushions the house that was surrounded by the vast forest.

I was mystified by the way the part of the forest offers you the full delight of the house it surrounded. It bid you entrance but it was also clear it also protects it like a dark medieval knight ready to strike if you dare to harm its precious offering.

I felt myself being pull in and I felt my eyes flutter close. I watch as I stood in a hall border by doors that held little tables with artistically designed legs painted gold, each table had an urn of different size and shape atop bright green purple, and red filigree lace table covers.

I walk to the last table with an urn that was of black opal as I stood there. I saw the door by which it stood open as if on its own accord. I walk just to the threshold and there I see a woman completely naked with skin of alabaster and hair so raven it blended with the darkness of the room giving her face a creepy ambiance laying upon a bed of twisted sheets.

I stare in and see her face convulse in pain and grunts of anguish rip from her throat. I rush from where I stand further into the room ready to offer some help. She was hurting. I hurry to the bed but it was I who scream as I stare down at her naked body cover with blood, embryonic fluid, and a torn abdomen. I watch in horror as the thing inside rip her from within some more and then tore her further open. I try to move away from the mangled body but I was held prisoner by a force unknown to me and further rooted into place by a cry, not of this earth in which it was now born.

I shiver with dread as I look at it and saw that in its somewhat animalistic face my eyes shone. The thing with its matted body of jointed limbs and twisted frame and skin of sickly pastel yellow withered across the still figure that it busted from and stared at me. I saw its oddly form lips parted and from within its throat, one word erupted.

"Mama".

I stagger wildly from the bed my need to run away cripple now by the phantom being that I came to realize stood watching from the distance darkened corner of the room. I could feel its powers and I say it because I knew it was no human that had me enthralled.

"Alley," I heard it breathe my name in a voice that drove me to fear yet compelled me to further standstill. How did it know my name?

"Madam?" it said again but this time it sounded more human and I was no longer standing in a bedroom of the unimaginable but the aesthetic ambiance of the parlor/slash receival area of the Maze Inn.

I blink furiously as I try to pry myself from the all-so-real feel of being in the house; in the painting where the scent of blood and body fluid mix with something too dark and sinister to comprehend rage with my sense of reality and misconception.

I step back and turn to the figure of the voice that was addressing me out of concern and curiosity.

"Are you alright?" he asks. I focus on it trying to warp myself back to reality but it was as if a part of me was left behind in the house that was just an array of brilliant brushstrokes and superb artistry.

"Yes," I croak my voice seeming to lodge in the pit of my throat as I try to reassure the rotund and gallant character that was gripping my hand out of what I deem as a concern.

"Come have a seat and a glass of water," he said gushing about to retrieve the latter after he had me safely sitting in one of the arms chairs I had earlier admired. "It seems as if that painting of Scarlett Ruins took your breath away."

If only he knew how true that remark was. It was as if all of me was taken however and not just my breath as I had stood gazing on the canvas that depicted the scenery with such lifelike finesse it was eerie, but I did not say this as I took the glass he hand to me and allow myself a much-needed drink.

When I was satisfied I was once again my 'don't give a damn and ready to get my five mil and kiss this damned dead-ass town with its eebie jeebies goodbye self' I look back at the man who was to my mind a little too overdressed for just the running of a mere inn.

My dear gentleman was sporting the attire of those gentlemen that boasted class and wealth of late 1890.

He had on a dark navy suit which consisted of a long loose-fitting thick wool dress jacket with wide lapels and a three-button down wide closer that was open to reveal a vest of mint green that fitted close to his bulging stomach with lapeled pockets.

Underneath the vest was a white shirt boasting a stuffed collar with small points, his necktie was Edwardian in a color close to mustard.

His pants fitted close to his chubby legs in a tubular style with cuff ends that rested upon highly polished lace-up leather boots of deep bark brown.

When my eyes came up to rest on his face again he semi balding head was tilt to the side and his face with plumb red cheeks and piercing eyes of an odd gray and a mustache curled at the end held a look that was unnerving as his scrutiny of me was boarding on sadistic.

I watch as he pulls himself quickly together looking at me now smiling his actions once again merry and gay. When he spoke again he was heading over to the desk and I got up and follow him only to discover a walking stick and a bowler hat resting by the visitor's book completing his vintage attire.

Who were these people? I found myself wondering for a bit but his voice drags me back to him handing me a key and instructing me where to find my room. I took the key and look at his smiling face thinking I was too tired to decipher any of this outdated and modern-day mix-up shit.

"Thanks," I said taking the key and walking to the stairs where my carryall sat forgotten when I stood staring at that creepy painting. I pause then turn back to the desk and ask. "Do you happen to have the time?"

You would think I would start to get a bit apprehensive at the sight of the timepiece he pulls from his pocket base on its appearance yes, but no.

I just stood and watch as he took the silver sphere from his pocket with a flourish the silver chain dangling as he flips it open. The shiny miniature clock held in his palm the upper half which was made to cover its face boasting the replicated designs of the old woman's bracelet bore me no concern or curiosity I just wait for him to pass on the time of day to me.

"It's now 13 o'clock."

I nod and walk away, retrieving my bag I continued up the stairs and head on to room 806 which was indicated by the tag on the key I was given.

I desperately need to bathe and get some sleep. I found it to be the last room at the end of the long carpeted hall with six rooms in total four on the left and two on the right. I only saw these rooms with their doors boasting intricately numbered plates tack firmly in place.

I did not see the eyes that followed me intently or that the window which took up the full closure of the wall at the end of the hall showed the exact display of the picture by the staircase as I unlock the door and slip into the room.