The room is very, very dark. It is empty save for a small coffee table against the wall, next to a door directly across form the one that led me here. There is a broken chair beside it. A single flickering candle is melting directly on the table, its wax dripping quietly onto the floor. It is about to go out. In the dim light I can make out a glass vase with two roses: one dead, the other dying. Their shadows dance on the wall, jumping, laughing, twirling, jesting. I jerk my head suddenly to the side as I notice a man sitting perfectly upright in the chair, his hands on his lap. Was he there before? I didn’t see. “Excuse me, sir? Could you tell me w-” Hold on. Something’s not quite right. He’s sitting perfectly still, too perfectly, his eyes faintly glimmering as he stares at the flame. He smiles with a savage grin that only grows wider and wider. I don’t understand. “Is everything okay? I’m a little lost, if-” I jump back as he beings to laugh, a maniacal cackle that rings in my ears. I reach for the door, but it is now locked. The fire starts to spread, no, jump-to the man, then the candle, then the man, then the candle, and back, until he is consumed by a roaring blaze. It is quiet again. The candle still flickers. He is gone, but I hear his voice sing a slow, eerie melody in a language I don’t understand. I’m intrigued and horrified. I walk up to the chair, cautiously poking at it with my feet. I slowly sit down and start to wonder what it was the man saw in the flame. I notice now that behind the candle, on the side of the room previously to my left, there is a mirror. It reflects the candle. The roses. The shadows on the wall. And my face. I put my hands on my lap and I can feel a smile slowly creep into my expression. I look around the room, and back at the candle, the smile becoming harder to resist. Oh, here’s something curious: all of the walls are mirrors.
The door opens. I can’t look. I can’t turn my face to see who or what it is.
There is no escaping the fire.