The Tapestry of Odette

When she opened her eyes, she was standing in a huge dark room. The commanders, the table, the flickering candles, were all gone. She could barely make out the vaulted ceiling high above and no walls were visible. The floor was made of stone, and it was so quiet that the ruffling of her clothing sounded loud. The vilest of scents assaulted her nostrils, overwhelming her so much with its ghastly odour that she almost vomited. Pinching her nostrils shut, she looked around, peering curiously into the darkness. There were pillars of carved stone surrounding her. Gargoyles and demons leered at her out of the darkness, cold grey eyes watching her every motion. She wasn't sure what to do, she took a timid step one way, then would stop and go another direction only to stop again and turn around in a circle. Then she began to hear a sound, incredibly soft at first, but slowly growing louder and louder until she could make out that it was two sounds, screaming, and a sad wailing song sung by many voices. Then it got close enough for her to hear the words of it. Travelling forever down such a lonely road, Surrounded by legions but always alone, Bearing upon our backs such a heavy load, Remember our candles that flickered and shone, Snuffed out by time just as we, Now to be bound by an iron chain, Never again let us wander free, Please hear our screams in the pouring rain, The darkness will hide us if we can only fly, Sheltering arms that await our return, Hopelessly we weep and cry . . . Suddenly the room Odette stood in was illuminated by a bright blue light that drifted around the pillars like a stream of banners in the air. Shimmering white figures, in the shape of skulls and disfigured heads, began to float upwards through the stones of the floor, into the blue light, which seemed to grow and grow as more spirits floated into it. Every head that floated past Odette turned in the air to look at her, their eyes replaced by abyssal black voids. She could hear the rattling sound of iron chains dragging across stone as the ghosts continued to sing their plaintive dirge. The rattling grew louder, like the singing, and then a ghostly skull appeared with a hook driven through its jaw. A long rusted chain, dripping blood, dangled behind it as it floated into the blue light. The screaming grew louder, until it was almost impossible to hear the words of the song over it. Odette covered her ears, but it did nothing to drown out the horrible noises. The blue light covered the whole ceiling now, brightly illuminating the vast room she stood in. There were huge stained glass windows high on the walls, looking out into pitch blackness. Each one of them was illustrated with portraits of death and despair, chained skeletons, bleeding heads mounted on spears, a ghastly figure with rotted flesh in a white robe, a pile of corpses being burned. She tore her eyes away from the windows, but the carvings and sculptures on the pillars were no less gory. Then she noticed that the walls themselves were smeared with blood, and golden basins filled with blood and human organs stood at the base of each pillar. Skeletons and rotted corpses dangled by their necks on chains hanging from the roof, and there were bones scattered across the floor, shoved into big piles in the corner. Strips of human skin and chunks of bleeding flesh hung from hooks on the pillars. Odette collapsed to the floor, a cold sweat breaking out on her skin, and a loud pounding noise in her ears. Her stomach began to churn, and she tried to hold down her bile, but she couldn't. She closed her eyes as she lay on the ground, but she could still smell the foul stench, taste the vomit, and hear the screaming of the dead. "What is this place?" she whispered, still keeping her eyes tight shut, as little respite as that was. "It's the Cathedral of Death," a sepulchral voice echoed behind her, followed by the sound of wood tapping against stone. Odette whirled around to face a ghastly figure; a skull with faded brown skin stretched tight over its surface, blue lights blazing in its eye cavities. It wore a hooded red robe and clutched a gnarled deadwood staff in the bony fingers of its left hand. It threw its head back to reveal long black hair flowing down from the top of the skull. "Who are you?" Odette gasped, bones rattling around her as she scrambling backwards. "Tisk, tisk, so many questions," the foul apparition croaked, limping forward a couple steps, leaning heavily on its staff. Then it stopped, and grinned broadly, a horrible sight. "I'm Death, obviously." "Am I dead?" Odette asked, trying to catch her breath. "Again with the questions," Death groaned. "I swear I'm going to be replaced by a receptionist someday. And no, you can't die . . . not here, anyway. You are more fragile elsewhere. But here . . . I'm the only thing you see right now that you did not create. I have added a few touches though, I'll admit." Odette scrabbled to her feet, dusting herself off. She did her best not to look around, the images of gore just sickened her. Several more questions sprang to her lips, but she visibly swallowed them down. "Ask away, little goddess," Death grimaced, leaning on his staff. "Why am I here?" Odette demanded, starting to feel a little more secure. Comfortable would be too much to ask in a hellish place like this. "That I can not answer," the apparition answered. "But I will suggest that it would be amiss for you not to view this visit with a certain sense of . . . foreboding. But I am a simple shepherd, not a prophet." "You mean I could die?" Death shrugged, taking a seat on a stone bench that sat beneath one of the pillars. A basin of blood, collecting red drips that fell from the roof, stood beside it. "People die all the time," he said. "Gods . . . not quite so often." "You said I didn't create you," Odette said, walking forward. "If I didn't, who did? And why are you here, in my world?" "Death is everywhere," the robed figure answered, looking off into the darkness. His voice took on a vaguely wistful tone. "I am in every child's dreams, whether they remember it or not. I am invested in every little deed, every twist, every motion, of humanity, and thus I am present in every creation of that species. And, child, you are human, and no matter how long you flee from that fact, one day it will overtake you with jarring force." "I'm not running away," Odette said defensively. "I never asked for this. I don't remember creating anything, I just fell in the middle of it." "You don't remember . . ." Death looked at her with a strange smile on his face. "Well it was a long time ago. We are all flawed in some way. Even I am just a product of humanity's collective imagination, the manifestation of their fear of their own demise. Hence my soul-harrowing appearance. Human thought can be shockingly powerful."