The Memory of a Dark Lord

The memory is mostly a blur of pain and fear. My aunt took great care in creating this, focusing like a preschooler with some sort of demonic macaroni craft. The atmosphere was suffocating as every nerve in my body stood on an edge. Without warning, the coaster slid to its first destination, making a screech as the wood scraped over the glass. I remember thinking to myself, maybe they'll tell her to let me go.