The pounding of my feet against cold stone filled my head. I burst through black wooden doors to what I hoped was reprieve, as much from the monster inside as the one I'd just witnessed. Fate was kind and I emerged into an overgrown court yard. A tiered fountain gurgled innocently in the middle, ivy threatening the downfall of its admittedly beautiful black marble. A stone serpentine form, carved from the same marble, wrapped itself around the fountain. Atop the fountain, and a capstone to the serpent's form, was the torso of a beautiful woman. Her black marble chest glistened from the water that poured from a chalice she held aloft. The water trickled down her body, choosing paths that glided over her voluptuous curves until it found its way into the fountains tiers.
Rose bushes surrounded the perimeter, closed in by a high stone wall partially hidden by the low fog still in the air. These roses were unlike any I had ever seen. They were as black as midnight and seemed to snake their way over ground, tree and wall alike.
Beyond the courtyard, a sizable home stood. Gothic and ornate, it seemed to hold the attendants of the cathedral. I had known these as a rectory, but here in this strange land, I could only guess their purpose. Rectories, living quarters for the clergy, as I knew them were modest, often clothed in a thin veneer of self-piety to shield them from the perceived devil of desire. Not so this rectory. The house loomed, as tall as three stories, though I saw no stairs through the high, narrow windows. The dwelling looked not as though it were to enhance the modesty of the occupants, but to amplify their enjoyment.
Curiosity gripped me as I crept closer to the Rectory. A warm glow emanated from within, not red and wild like the candles of the Cathedral, but orange and welcoming. Large black curtains were pulled back, allowing me a full view of the lavish interior. Ornate furniture and lounges paraded the perimeter of the home, each adorned with pillows and silk blankets. Dark wooden tables and stands provided light from black candelabras. Their glow also illuminated the statues, dozens of them, all depicting the serpentine woman from the fountain outside. Her likeness, carved in ebony, displayed a different, often sensual, pose in each statue.
As I risked getting closer and seeing more of this hauntingly decadent home, the vaulted ceiling's purpose soon became clear. In the center of the room, motion caught my eye. Wild, sporadic motion of a woman dancing.