Chapitre 37: Chapter 37

They say you can know someone’s personality and soul just by looking at his possessions. I prayed to God this wasn’t true because if it was, if it held the slightest speck of truth, then we were royally screwed. Everything in this place screamed darkness all over. From the medieval lamp hovering over us with the ominous threat of its downward spikes, to the deadly centaur with needle-like teeth and to the carnivorous Minotaurus swallowing the naked woman’s head, Camus’ soul looked to be the most pitch black soul I’d ever seen.

Dark hallways lined with dim ornate lanterns made way for places my soul begged not to know. Towering vaulted ceilings promised hidden shady secrets one’s ears recoiled at. And the living room, with its flaring fireplace, spoke of inner passions and musings one’s untarnished mind couldn’t even process.