Rooms of Bloodshed

Rooms Of Bloodshed (Part 1)

Dyrsis walked along the sidewalk winding through the town. The candles on 

crooked doorsteps flickered and danced against the black of night. The cracked concrete was harsh against the bottoms of her feet, scraping them every few steps. She paid no mind to the dots of blood left in her wake, it was of no concern to her. Slowly, the dots of crimson blood faded to a metallic gray; the dots grew to puddles. At last she stopped and looked down. The lead colored blood collected around her feet. She frowned, 

“Every time, really? I am far too careful to be caught, but regardless, this 

makes it more difficult.” As soon as the words reached the depth of the empty void of air surrounding her, sinking in, as if the sky was reading into her every word, the concrete below her began to cave in, becoming a thick paste. She attempted to pull her foot out of the gray muck. 

“Ugh,” she whined, her smooth, honeyed voice swept away in the night, 

“Must this always happeeeen-” The word elongated as she fell, down.. down.. down. 

“What on earth was that dream,” Dyrsis said in a panicked sweat. She 

touched her face, “There was blood.. everywhere,” she paused, “It’s the second time this week too..” 

She packed her bag slowly, mulling over the strange, almost twisted dream. 

How could she ever understand what it meant, she wondered. 

“Dyr, it’s time to go,” her sister yelled from downstairs. 

“Coming, Erc,” she yelled back, trying to wipe the dream from her memory as 

she rushed down the stairs, “Ready?” 

“I’m the one waiting on you,” Ercia said, giving her sister a dramatic sigh, “You were up there for ages.” 

“Sorry, I slept in,” Dyrsis replied sheepishly, knowing that Ercia would bring it 

up at least thrice more at work. She quickly grabbed her lunch, a ham and cheese sandwich with gherkin pickles. 

“I don’t know why you insist on bringing pickles every day, don’t you want 

variety?” Ercia asked. 

“Nah, I could use a little repetition honestly,” Dyrsis grinned. 

“Suit yourself,” Ercia said, rolling her eyes as she picked up her lunch; a 

cucumber, turkey, and honey mustard wrap with baby carrots as a side. The two walked to work, they walked silently alongside each other, only breaking the silence once they arrived, 

“Good morrow my liege,” Dyrsis joked.

“And to you, my faithful confidante,” Ercia replied, mimicking the regal air 

Dyrsis had portrayed. The two took deep breaths in and walked through the doors, 

“What’s up Gabe?” Dyrsis smiled, waving to her coworker. 

“Hey Dyr,” Gabe said brightly, “hopefully we’ll get more customers today.” “Yeah, I need all the tips I can get if we’re going on that trip to Echoing Falls 

next summer. We might have to work weekends if we don’t get enough cash,” Gabe sighed, his smile fading slightly. 

“Don’t worry, we’ll get there,” Dyrsis grinned, grabbing a scooper from the 

drawer, and tossing it in the air. After completing a backflip midair, the scooper landed safely back in her hand. 

“I’ll never not be jealous of that,” Ercia said, snickering. 

“Hey, it’s all in a day’s work,” Dyrsis joked.  Suddenly, the bell on the door 

chimed, *Ding, Ding* 

“Hi! Welcome to Bettie’s scoops, what can I get for you today?” Dyrsis said 

with a smile. The customer smiled back, slightly wider, 

“Can I please have a.. Waffle cone with one scoop of the Custard Crunch 

please?” 

“Of course!” Dyrsis said, maintaining the smile throughout. She held the 

scooper over the heater, then scooped the ice cream into the cone. She handed it to the woman, “Here’s your ice cream, enjoy your day!” 

The woman nodded her thanks, pulling a wad of cash from her small purse, 

she stuffed it into the tip jar, 

“You too honey,” she said as she turned to leave. She seemed to drift out the 

door, almost as if she were a spirit. Dyrsis stared, wide-eyed at the tip jar, overflowing with cash. 

“Holy..” Gabe said in awe, this was the most money he had ever laid eyes on, 

let alone owned. 

“Lucky,” Erica said, “Well, you know the rules, it’s all yours Dyr.” 

Dyrsis stared at the wad, barely noticing as another customer came in, the only thing grabbing her attention was the soft jingle of the bell on the door. 

“Hello, welcome to..” the words seemed to evaporate the moment she 

noticed who the customer was. It was the same woman as before, she had a kindly smile, dimples dotting both cheeks. Her hazel eyes pierced Dyrsis’ own. 

“I believe I have forgotten something, I am very sorry, I meant to give you this 

dear,” The woman said, her smile unwavering. She passed Dyrsis a small folded up piece of paper, she then turned. In the blink of an eye, she was gone, as if she had never been there in the first place. The group, once again, was left in shock.

The shift ended. Dyrsis walked outside behind the building, she quickly 

unfolded the paper, it read:

‘Dear burdened one, I believe this may be a bit of a shock to you, please 

prepare yourself for such outlandish gibberish as this. You may have been plagued by dreams lush with blood, only few maintain this imagery. You may have received this quite some time after these dreams have begun, this is to keep what anonymity we possess. In your next dream, please attempt to enter one of the houses on the street, it is there that we will meet and communicate our reasoning for this message. Norma, the woman who delivered this note will meet you inside. Scenic dreams my love, signed, The Harrowed Rooms Of Bloodshed.’ The words sunk in; Dyrsis folded the paper back up, slipping it in her pocket. She met up with Ercia, and the two made the trip back home.

Once back home, Ercia finally broke the silence,

“Here’s the cash,” she said, handing it over. Dyrsis took the money, folding it 

over in her hand,

“Thanks,” she said, still thinking of the letter stuffed in her pocket. The two, 

being exhausted from the long hours at the ice cream shop, separated, going up to their respective rooms. Hours passed, the sisters had eaten, then settled into their cushioned beds, fragrant with the soft musky smell of fabric softener. Ercia had long since drifted into a calm slumber, although Dyrsis, rife with worry, stayed awake, her stomach knotted at the thought of the town awaiting her. She lay, her eyes pointing skyward for quite some time, blinking away the moisture in her eyes from increasingly often yawns. Dyrsis drifted in and out of consciousness, her eyes glazed as her lids fell shut.

The concrete felt solid beneath Dyrsis’ feet, her arms hung next to her waist, 

loose and freely moving as she walked her usual route. She chose not to notice the slow trickle of blood dripping from her heel, it was of no consequence. She looked solely at the house at the very end of the street, the only house that looked different from the other carbon-copies flicking past her as she walked. This house had a roof that curled as a witch’s hat would, as if it were a reaction to her malice. The window frames seemed to twist around itself, a vine in its own right. The door stood wide at the very top, slimming to the size of a pumpkin, freshly picked for carving on a breezy October night. The steps were crooked, varying in size and height, they led to a trio of oddly shaped candles, the flames wavering noticeably. Strange carvings ran along the wax of the candles, creating shadows when the light from the others revealed the indented circles and arches. The house was strange, but Dyrsis felt that this was the right place for such a strange meeting. Perhaps this was a test, to see which house she chose. Maybe she wasn’t even accepted yet. These thoughts seemed to rotate in Dyrsis’ head. She grew tired of the worry and dispelled them hastily. She continued walking, faster so that the blood would turn a metallic gray well after she had passed it. The number of houses ahead of her dwindled until dropping to one singular house, bewitching in more ways than one. She stepped carefully onto each misshapen ledge, still going at a quick pace. Leaning over into a curtsy-like position, she sighed. The flames arched backwards, compelled by her breath and dissipated into the night. Smoke lifted up around the candles, curling around Dyrsis’ face as if holding it in its grasp before being evaded by Dyrsis rising to knock on the door, which creaked open at her touch, as if shrugging away from her. The opening allowed for her to step through without disturbing much more than the charcoal black carpet coating the entirety of both floors. Taking a step inside, Dyrsis looked around as a long fluid creak sounded behind her. She looked back quickly, but the light had already cleared the room, leaving it as dark as the carpet. A figure behind the door walked slowly towards her, silent and searching.

“New member I suppose…” the figure whispered in her ear, her voice 

revealing the tone of a 20 something woman, a cold edge in her voice. She seemed calculating, as far as Dyrsis could tell. The woman moved in circling paths around her, a slow and precise movement, much like a predator looking for its next meal. Another figure crept down the stairs to the second floor, joining the dance; she was significantly shorter than the first, as Dyrsis would notice later. Several others emerged from the other nooks in the house, the dance became faster and faster, a wild clawing ring around her. She closed her eyes, dizzy from the air stirred by their movements, sudden light flooded her senses when next she opened her eyes. A long oval-shaped table hoarded most of the space in the room she had landed in; around it were around a dozen members of The Harrowed Rooms Of Bloodshed, all in long black cloaks, tailored and flattering on all of them. 

“Please, sit,” The woman from before said, a command, as her graveled voice 

allowed for nothing less. She placed her hands on the table, her fingers interlocking. Dyrsis sat in the only chair available, which happened to be directly next to the woman. Grabbing Dyrsis’ hands, the woman introduced herself, a gracious mask covering her usual demeanor,

“My name is Jana, you may call me High Mistress,” she paused, allowing for 

any interruption— which there wasn’t, she just wished to reinforce her position of power— she then continued, “So newbie,” she said the word with disdain, “what is yours,” she demanded.

“Dyrsis,” she said quietly so as not to provoke Jana. It felt as though a pin 

drop could set off the room, and she did not lust for a knife at her throat. 

Jana removed her hood, revealing an angled face with dark, angry eyes 

looming behind the soft hazelnut hair framing her sharp cheekbones. Her hands came to rest again on the table. 

Next to her was the shorter figure that came down the stairs when Dyrsis first 

entered the house. She raised her withered and shaking hands to lift the hood back behind her head. Norma raised her gaze to Dyrsis’ eyes, the lines on her face crinkled as she smiled in a kind, grandmotherly way. The others followed suit, revealing mostly young faces. Once every hood had been lowered, Jana, The High Mistress, stood, she passed a black cloak over Dyrsis’ head. The cloak shrunk, cinching to her body as soon as it had hit the floor. Jana’s hands rested on her shoulders,

“You are now an official member of The Harrowed Rooms Of Bloodshed,” 

Jana said, her stance strong as her eye contact, “You may depart, in two nights time you will return, be there and do not tarry, you do not want to find out what will happen if you do,” Jana warned.

Dyrsis nodded, she would not test Jana’s patience, as it was already wearing 

thin, “I’ll be there,” she agreed, feeling herself fade from the scene. 

Two nights later she returned wearing the garment of the organization. She 

stepped above the concrete, her feet separated from the prick of the concrete spikes pushing up through the cracks. Reaching the door, she blew out the candles, carving a dot into the center of one of the circles already neatly dug out in the wax, opened the door, and stepped through. The others waited patiently upstairs for her arrival. Jana sat on a throne made of various knives and bottles, many digging into her back. The room seemed to bow down in her presence, allowing her to be the focus. She sighed loudly, the only member awaiting Dyrsis impatiently,

“How much longer, Norma?” she demanded.

“Not much longer High Mistress,” Norma said, putting Jana’s anger 

temporarily at ease.

Dyrsis crept up the stairs, attempting to miss the creaky boards, being 

somewhat successful, she reached the top and rounded the corner. A few moments later, she reached the room. Before entering, she slid the hood over her head, then, with her head down, she entered, the lights bathing her hood in a soft amber glow. She bowed, her hair peeking out around the hood,

“I am sorry for my tardiness, High Mistress,” she said, her voice pleading.

“Hm, I suppose I may forgive it just this once, but do not even let it cross your 

mind to repeat this misdeed,” Jana said sternly, her eyes staring daggers at Dyrsis’ head beneath the hood, “Sit.”

Dyrsis did as she was told, her head still tilted down in what could be seen as 

shame, but in reality, was simply a knowing that she ought to be. She felt grateful for the cloak, it shielded her from Jana’s harsh words, and the embarrassment that came with a face, unlike the shadow she was now. 

“We may now begin, since everyone has joined us,” she said, Dyrsis could feel 

Jana’s eyes on her.

“Yes, please note that the usual time of meeting is around 9PM,” Norma said 

sweetly, her smile hidden by the shadow of her cloak.

“Mhm,” Jana continued, “We will begin commissions shortly, Haruna, please 

ready the parcels.”

Haruna nodded silently, she stood, pulling an array of scrolls from a drawer in 

the corner. She began passing them around, murmuring names to ensure that the scrolls were given to those intended to receive them. She made her way around the oval, finally, only one remained in her hand, 

“Dyrsis?” She mumbled.

“Yes,” Dyrsis nodded, receiving the parcel. She slowly unraveled it, two 

sentences could be seen, her commission. The parcel read: Your commission is in the upper Rooms Of Bloodshed. Proceed with caution, burdened one. 

“Your commissions must be completed in two nights time, we meet the 

second night to receive your reward,” Jana said with a rare smile, cold as if she had gained some sort of advantage. She signaled to Norma, tapping a finger on her armrest. Norma stood, she spoke loudly, making sure she was heard, 

“Dismissal has befallen us, please go forth and stay safe, burdened ones,” 

she said, regarding the group. Many of the members stood, making their way towards the door. The room cleared slowly, the only remaining member being Jana. She tapped the armrests to some sort of unheard tune, though surely best played on a lute. She began humming along, she being the only person who could bring such a chilling song to life with only the tapping of the pads of her fingers and the soft, eerie tune sang by her unsettling voice. 

“Blood stained skies invade thy mind mother, why have you brought her here 

only to be killed,” Jana said aloud. It wasn’t a question, although she awaited an answer. 

The room seemed to shift, the lights became brighter as the darkness 

crowded in a corner.

“You ungrateful wretch,” the shadow crowed.

“It’s nice to see you Mother,” Jade said.

“Do you truly wish to meet, or are you just pestering me for kicks?” The 

shadow said sourly.

“You know me, I wouldn’t dare waste the Archmage’s time,” Jade said with a 

sly grin, “Who do you take me for?”

“An insolent child.”

“I’m flattered,” Jade said, hands to her heart as if she had received a 

compliment too rich for her to accept and still appear humble. 

“Don’t. Get to the point Jade. What do you want?” The Archmage crossed her 

arms, still shrouded in darkness by the shadows.

“Let her live for just a little while longer, I believe she could be a much needed 

asset,” Jade said.

“Of course you would think so, Ugh! Fine, keep your little toy, but if she can’t 

prove herself, it’s her death.”

“Alright.”

The night of Dyrsis’ assignment, she went to bed early, attracting some 

suspicion from Ercia. She slipped into a shallow slumber, appearing in the town somewhat see through. She grabbed the rung of a rusted metal ladder from above, pulling it down to the ground. She began to climb upwards, barefoot and wincing as the rust snagged the cuts on her feet. As she climbed the ladder, the world seemed to take on a ruby red glow. The glow spread, tinting all around her.

“This is your stop, burdened one,” a crooked voice told her. 

Dyrsis nodded, stepping off the ladder, her feet resting on an uneven path 

covered in red fog. 

“Good luck,” the voice paused, “you will need it.” 

“Thank you,” Dyrsis said shakily. 

“Who are you talking to, sweet girl?” A tall man asked, his black brows 

furrowed over seemingly kind brown eyes.

Dyrsis kept her head down, attempting to avoid him.

“Dyrsis.”

She looked up, the biggest mistake she made all night…

“My dear, please stay for tea,” the man said, snapping his fingers. The scene 

shifted to a modern living room, presumably his, “what kind of tea would you like? Vanilla and raspberry? Ah you cannot speak, I did forget about that part. Please allow me your company, although I suppose you cannot refuse. Being a demon is much more complicated than you would think, child.” The man rambled. He stood to get the teapot, filled with boiling water. He grinned, “You have two options. Would you like me to allow you to leave to finish your quest, the catch is that I must stay with you, or would you like me to kill you, and put you out of your misery.” The man paused, then quickly started up again, “Nod for one, take a sip of your tea for two.”

Dyrsis nodded.

“Hm, no one ever picks the fun option, I was told, though it’s quite disheartening to 

see in person,” he frowned, his black hair curling down over his face. He tucked the strand back in place gently; his hand did not fit the profile of a killer. No blisters marred his palm or fingertips, they looked as if he had never worked a day in his life. He sighed, “Oh alright,” he said, snapping his fingers. The scene returned to the one prior. 

“Thanks,” Dyrsis said in a graveled voice.

“Don’t mention it, just tell The Harrowed Rooms Of Bloodshed members that 

Orin bested their new recruit for me, will ya?”

Dyrsis stayed silent.

“I suppose that would paint a bad picture of you though, just keep me around 

without trying to get rid of me then, that’s how you’ll repay me,” he grinned.

“O-k,” Dyrsis agreed, still somewhat shaky.

“Good, now where are we headed?” Orin asked, leaning over to peer at the 

scroll in Dyrsis’ hands, “Hm, upper levels, I imagine they want you dead, newbie.”

A scared look crossed Dyrsis’ face as she looked up, imagining the horrors 

awaiting her.

“Not to worry, now you have me,” he said. 

“Why are you..”

“What? Going after you? There have been certain.. messages telling of a 

new member, it’s been quite some time since they have accepted someone new,” Orin explained, “well, you should be on your way. After you,” he said, motioning to the ladder in front of them. 

Dyrsis climbed the rungs at a slowed pace in anticipation of what she would 

encounter once she got to the top…

Francesca Laporta, a student at Providence Day School in North Carolina, uses dark imagery to portray a strife-filled time in her life. She used her experiences to fuel what she calls now her horror phase