The winds rose fiercely towards my curved window as I sat and bathed. I knew what season had just entered, and it was always something I found to dread.

  It made me chuckle in contempt, as I felt like those pesky noblewomen who could choose which silk dresses they would wear, which inbred noble man to swoon over.

  My eyes were closed shut forcefully as my body was rocked forth slowly. The waves of water always made me feel some kind of way. Like a disease-ridden rodent whose open carcass was swaying on top of shallow water. Uncaring for the breeze.

  Water always made me feel that way. Notches in the belly, careful turning of disgust and the quiet but eerie realization that it knew I should not exist.

  Most things whispered to me like that. As if I had offended them in a previous life or stolen their wives from their house. In quiet offense or in loud subservience to their makers. The gods, as man calls them. As they who have taken upon divine and declared themselves holy.

  Even my bath, which was made of dark cedar wood, would screech as I made my way towards my towel.

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  What could be more lovely than living in a cursed house as a skeleton_

  A cursed house, with even worse cursed owner and a loyal monstrosity of a cat. ehh, I sure do attract the wrong types, don’t I Magellan? I said as my cat teleported and hugged my feet as it purred loudly.

  I poured my morning coffee thinking about this house and the lush forest that surrounds me. The memories and moments that has made up my recent memory. It has been fun. Adding new things to the house has always been a pleasure. I retrofitted the underground cave in my house as a library and a workshop. A place where I can read old classics, make weapons and try to get myself drunk on honeyed mead from the isles. It takes me 14 cases of mead to get me mad drunk. Magellan gets angry when I drink too much, he telegraphs his meows in my mind, always telling me that I should not get drunk. but it rarely helps. Remembering the hard times does that to an old skeleton like me.

  Ahh, the trees yes. the forest trees and their cannibalistic nature. I remember the time I planted those carnivora trees a century ago and they seem to have matured greatly. I must thank Erios for the seeds. I have benefited from them as they have protected me for a quite a while.

  I remember fondly the time when I had to teach them by feeding them human corpses sporadically so they would develop a taste for them. They even eat the bones. There were times where I used to jump from my seat in the mornings when I heard their screams, but alas. I have quickly come to selectively ignore it as I make my morning coffee.