Sophie lay in bed, staring up at the ceiling of her cell. Her vacant eyes seldom blinking. She silently counted the number of new webs the spiders wove over the night. The morning sunlight pouring through the solitary window cut into the stone wall cast the gently swaying silhouette of a corpse over Sophie's bed. The body was left hanging from a tree just outside the window by Sophie's brother, the sovereign. He left it close enough for her to reach out and touch. It dangled in the pine needles like a Christmas ornament its state of decay, another reminder to Sophie of how long she'd been confined to the convent. With clockwork precision, Sophie's attendant Maria started pushing open the heavy wooden door to Sophie's room. The elderly Maria moved slowly but with a preserved poise of grace. "Good morning, archduchess," she greeted Sophie. Sophie blinked in response. Sophie stood limp and motionless while Maria undid the ties on her nightgown. Dressing
This is a collection of anecdotes from the fringes of reality, a tapestry stitched together from our dreams as well as our nightmares, from the fears that haunt the collective imagination. These are the symptoms of the sickness known as the human condition.