The Icebound Clocktower and Other Noise Inspired Stories

The Fireplace Room

The Fireplace, Waterfall Noise, Timemakers

There is a room in an expansive complex, tucked just underneath a roaring waterfall. Water trickles down the one-way glass windows that take up nearly an entire wall and a small portion of the ceiling, blurring the night sky beyond them. It almost gives the illusion of a constant rain. The windows are cut into squares outlined in dull, black iron rods, and are cold and smooth to the touch. Polished to perfection, receiving as much meticulous care as everything else in the room.

The walls are of a dark wooden material, and mostly covered in a countless number of ticking, ringing, clicking, dinging, tocking priceless-looking clocks. One lets out a particularly startling clang that somehow manages to arrive unexpected every single time. Interrupting the display, and being the only source of light in the room, is a large, grim-looking stone fireplace, covered only by a foldable black iron grate. It's set on a small, square platform, with intertwining patterns carved around the edges. The fire crackles and hisses inside, warming the room considerably against the cold night.

The ceiling is a smooth, light grey stone surface that the fireplace seems to almost melt down from. It goes away from the waterfall diagonally, curved around the corners, and meets the other three walls a little less than a foot into their journey floor-wards. Looking at the floor, it's a combination of hardwood and a thick, intricately woven rug in colors of reds and golds. The red echoes the color of the curtains on either side of the wide window, which are currently held in place by a gold braided rope.

The furniture in the room is sparse, but comfortable. A small, round table in the center of a combination of a couch and two armchairs, which are spaced between two smaller end-tables, both with an unlit candle in a gold holder. The couch is wide enough for two, and seems to be made out of apple-red oval shapes framed in nearly black, polished wood with a strange, braided-looking design and four short little legs that curl out from under it and sit perched on the carpet on elegant spirals.

To the left of the couch is a small, circular end-table with a wooden top and a web of black iron rods supporting it. It separates the red couch from the burgundy armchair, and holds a strange dull-grey spherical knick-knack on a removable stand along with its candle. The candle looks as if it had been used many times. Both the burgundy and the brown armchairs look more comfortable than the red couch, as the cushions on it seem more decorative than practical.

The burgundy armchair rocks slightly, and the back is a slightly tilted rectangle with a small sort of... flick-y edge bit... on it. The arms are big rolls that are almost too big, and the seat itself is just a thick cube of ninety percent cushion and ten percent seat. The first impression of sitting in it is sinking into it just a bit. It's very easy for a small person to curl up in.

The second armchair on the far right is also separated by an identical end-table with an identical candle, but instead of a knick-knack it holds a book. There are a few other books tucked away on the small shelf underneath the central table. The brown armchair has a wide back that is curved at the top, and the seams are outlined in a smaller edition of the gold braid on the curtains. It is the only piece of furniture with a pillow on it, and it matches the same color and gold-seamage as the armchair. It's less permeable than the burgundy chair, with more of a leathery texture.

The room only has one visible exit, an imposing, heavy wooden door supported by the same black iron bars as around the windows and in front of the fireplace. It slams shut with a loud bang and seems to lock only from the other side...