The First Death
Who: William Turner, Ichabod Crane and OPEN! (Tag everyone and anyone!)
When: Late night around 10 or so
Where: Den
Rating: R for mention of blood and death
Status: Incomplete

Dear William was sitting in the den with his nose deep in a book. He was frustrated that it seemed to him that he was the only one that was trying to figure out how the hell he and everyone else got here and more importantly how the hell to get out.

He groans and slams the book closed and throws it back to the rest of the pile. The cloud of dust floating up as he pinches the bridge of his nose. This electic light was wonderous for reading but it hurt his eyes. He found himself missing the sea more than Elizabeth. He didn't sleep at night since he was supposed to be shepparding the souls at this time, yet each book only spoke of the history of the house and the structure than he's more important questions.

He sighs and leans over to pick up the next book. He leans back and opens to start reading once more.