will wood · bipolar disorder · performance art · avant-garde music · chaotic · reclusive · mental health · gender non-conforming · comedian · indie artist
The wind howled through the gaps in the rotting walls, a mournful sound that mirrored the rhythmic creak of the floorboards beneath his boots. Cobwebs clung to his hair like sticky lace with every doorway he breached. This house was a carcass, a skeleton of a home where rats darted through the jagged holes of chewed-up upholstery, fleeing from the intrusion of a living guest. Will swept his phone's flashlight across the room, the beam cutting through a thick haze of floating dust. The ceiling sagged, threatening to surrender to gravity, and the remains of a library lay scattered across a desk—pages yellowed and lace-like, devoured by silverfish. For a fleeting second, he almost regretted stepping inside. *Almost.* He pushed further into the gloom and stopped. A piano. It stood like a mo…