She gazed at the words scrawled across the pages grabbing her frayed gray hair in frustration. The stories she's recently written, all completely stale as she looked at draft over draft of her every chapter. The yellow hue of the lantern perched on her desk only did so much to help her see. With a growl of frustration, her long veiny hands ripped the inked papers to mere pieces. The sore joints of her pale arms strained under pressure as she got up from the wooden seat.
She decided she needed inspiration, and what's better than a dream from a good night's rest? Grabbing the lantern, she hobbled over stone tile the long nails on her feet briefly catching on her dress with every step. Maybe if her ears weren't so worn down from age, she would've noticed the irregular pattern of the waters drip around her. Perhaps if her brain wasn't so torn from the stress of writing she would've stopped to wonder why she heard any kind of drip at all, her basement while old is perfectly structured. The only part about her not dysfunctional as the years roamed on was her eyes but she barely had time to look up at the drop of strangely sticky water landing on her head before it was bitten clean off.
Her frail body barely made a sound as it collapsed onto the ground blood gushing out the gap where her head should've been attached. The only real trace they had of her was a crimson red puddle as her lifeless form was dragged away, eaten a most probable conclusion that many had made. Until one of the new inhabitants of the old house opened the cellar the very same lantern in hand and with a scream crawled away from the still lifeless yet pristine body of Ann Christine.
"Damn that's pretty crazy, how's the girl holding up?" Trell, better known as bellhop asked placing the file back down and chewing on yet another doughnut.
*Absolute glutton* Clare irritably thinks eyeing the growing mound of crumbs tucked into the crook of the other's mouth.
Swallowing up her disgust, she responds, "Worryingly unwell and still violent or unresponsive, not saying that isn't a normal reaction to seeing a beheaded dead body casually lying on the floor but..."
"She hasn't even blinked" Sal finishes behind her ambling into the break room. Opening the fridge heavily freckled hands rummage around for the probably contra-banded bottle of Gin hidden away near the back. "Y'know she's like, a zombie or something dead-eyed and everything," he mumbles trying to get the bottle open unsuccessfully. He sighs, "At least she didn't try to attack me, unlike you" he then starts shaking the bottle vigorously in Claire's face.
Clare grabs it from him and squeezes off the cap raising a thin dark eyebrow "Maybe she didn't try to attack you because you don't have a brain" she shoots back grabbing a plastic cup from the counter.
"Hey whoa there what about me?" Bellhop whines placing a hand over his eyes in a dramatic showing of woe.
"It's your turn to try and get some answers out of her, and it's very uncivil to drink on the job" Clare states shooting a mild glare and the happily seated Sal.
"Okay okay just, get more doughnuts for me please? I'm almost out."Bellhop begrudgingly says getting up from his well-used seat.
"No." Comes a stern reply.
"Sure." Comes a sly one.
A beat of silence hovers over the three as Clare looks about ready to start arguing with Sal, again. Bellhop silently exits the room sending Sal finger guns and his best smile.