On reaching the terminus of a set of basement steps, I flipped the light switch and instantly recoiled in horror at sight of the bloated, grimacing face staring back at me. Its bared teeth and unblinking eyes told a story of torment; of a prolonged torture so solitary, silent, and dark that it beggared belief. The creature's hands were stiff and deformed, gnarled with the passage of time and atrophied with disuse. Amid the fear and desolation, however, springs eternal, futile hope. The creature--perhaps once as human as you or I--had gathered what scant material it could find in its dungeon and clothed itself in an crude approximation of what had once been considered fine society dress. Perhaps one day... I shall be released, it seemed to say. And when I once again greet the Sun, I want to look beautiful. Meters read, the light was once again extinguished. A breath of wind accompanied your intrepid meter reader back up the creaking steps. Perhaps one day...