There's a dying room where an old cage is bleeding red rust all over, and the old meat-hooks keep swinging back and forth with no wind to help them. What were once cream-colored tiles have given way to years of grime, and all but one flickering light stopped illuminating them long ago. There's a chair, or part of one, and it sits in front
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Although, because I'm an honest person, just have to say: I think when talking about the meat-hooks swinging back and forth, adding the part about "no wind to help them" is pushing it a bit. The idea that they're in a closed environment and swinging is surreal enough.
Nice work.
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