There is an apartment tower near the C-train line that is always dark at night. The lights never seem to go on, or if they do, they never do on the north face. The building never advertises any vacancies, and in fact almost never gives any outward signs of being inhabited at all. The building’s front door is always locked, but the side door that opens onto a nearby alley opens with ease. Unfortunately, the room on the other side is shin-deep in blood. Close the door behind you and begin to ascend the stairs.
Never Ever leave the staircase until you reach the top floor, no matter what you hear or see. The staircase itself is tall and long and steep,, and a steady stream of blood flows down it from the top. Once you reach the top of the stairs, you will see its source: A pulsating, bleeding tumour five feet across that has been nailed to the wall. Don’t touch it, or it will release its spores. Instead, go through the door into the main hallway of the top floor. Do not let it close behind you.
The walls of the top floor have been broken out and have been replaced with screens made of dried skin. If you touch it, it feels warm and moist, as though it were still alive. Some of the sheets have faces. At the center of this hall, you will find a man on a throne made of men holding awkward poses and contortions. He will smile at you, showing three rows of teeth, and offer you his hospitality. Do not accept. You do not want to stay in the tower like the rest of these poor souls. Instead, tell him you want to borrow a book.
Carelessly, he’ll throw whatever he’s currently reading at you. It’s entirely possible you’ll be left with nothing but a wrinkled John Grisham, but for the most part, his reading material is far more interesting and esoteric. Bring whatever book he gives you to Eddie Decae, who will offer you something that isn’t printed on human skin.