The room wasn't very big to start with, and was made even smaller still by the stacks of boxes filled with forgotten objects, piles of old rags, blankets, clothes, canvas, paper, and books, and numerous other things occupying it. The floor was almost entirely hidden, and what could be seen was a dirty mucky grayish brown with age. Ants had found their way into the room, looking for stale bits of food that they had to fight with the mice who lived in the opposite corner of the room to obtain.

Sunlight penetrated the room through small rips in the curtain that hung like a dead animal in the small window, the light reflecting off of tiny bits of dust that still floated in the air even though nothing but the tiny scratches of mice paws disturbed the silence.

The room had been closed so long that the smell of mold, dead insects, and droppings had become quite strong, so much so that anyone who might per chance happen to try entering the room would be driven out to find a mask that would keep the sent from killing them.

Some of the rodents that lived there had just ventured out of their hole onto a stack of books to look around when they where given a shock so huge it nearly stopped their hearts from beating and sent them like a flash of lightening for cover.

Almost in the middle of the room, a figure trembled as he pushed himself to his knees, ripping the garden hose off of his arms and twisting around. Striking a match against the tinder box he held in a death grip, the flames nearly burned his fingers as he moved them to touch the edge of the canvas in front of him.

As they caught hold of the dry fabric, the figure dressed completely in black fell backwards to land on the garden tools again, his lungs working to force air into his body as he watched the paint bubble and melt together, the faces watching him slowly disappearing.