The floor in this room is made of human hair, long tresses tightly braided and packed together. The walls are made of human bones, femurs, tibia and ribs, locked and imbricated. Inset skulls hold candles. The flames burn green.
I sit and I watch and, in time, the gloom is suffused with sparkling atomies, motes of light which swirl and dance as they slowly gather into a shimmering globe. A soul!
I reach out with the fingers of my mind. I squeeze and mould the globe to a little ball. As I do so, it darkens and reddens. I squeeze and compress until it is like a tiny, vivid ruby.