厄舍府的倒塌 Episode 14 活埋｜死亡與甦醒之間的最後恐懼 | The Fall of the House of Usher Episode 14: Buried Alive
死亡是否真的是終點？當棺木緩緩合上，黑暗吞噬最後一絲光線，真正的恐懼才剛剛開始。在厄舍府的廢墟之下，一場介於生與死之間的掙扎，即將揭開最後的真相。
Some horrors begin only after the coffin is sealed. Beneath the ruined House of Usher, where silence has replaced every whisper, one final nightmare awakens between life and death, forcing an impossible struggle against darkness itself.
中文
當最後一面石牆倒塌後，我本以為自己終於逃離了厄舍府。然而就在離開山谷的途中，一陣劇烈的頭痛突然襲來，眼前景象開始扭曲，腳下的大地逐漸消失。我失去意識前，只聽見有人低聲說了一句：「真正的離開，還沒有開始。」當我再次睜開雙眼時，四周一片漆黑。我無法伸直雙腿，也無法舉起雙手，狹窄的空間散發著潮濕木材與泥土混合的腐朽氣味。我伸手摸索，指尖碰到粗糙的木板，這才驚覺自己竟躺在一具棺木之中。驚恐瞬間吞噬理智，我拼命拍打棺蓋，大聲呼喊，然而回應我的只有沉悶的撞擊聲，以及頭頂不斷掉落的泥土。我開始瘋狂推撞木板，指甲因過度用力而裂開，鮮血滲入木縫，但棺木紋絲不動。漸漸地，空氣開始變得稀薄，每一次呼吸都像吸入滾燙的灰燼。就在絕望即將吞噬我時，耳邊再次傳來熟悉的低語。那不是厄舍家族祖先，也不是黑色湖泊的聲音，而是所有曾被活埋於這片土地的人。他們低聲訴說自己的名字，述說最後一刻如何在黑暗中等待救援，又如何慢慢接受死亡。那些聲音沒有怨恨，只剩無盡疲憊。我忽然發現棺木內側刻滿密密麻麻的文字，每一道刻痕都代表一位曾被困於此的人。他們有人記錄日期，有人刻下家人的名字，有人只留下簡單一句：「我還活著。」越往角落摸去，竟找到一塊早已磨平的金屬片，上面刻著一句令人心寒的話：「真正困住你的，不是棺木，而是恐懼。」我努力讓自己平靜，開始仔細傾聽周圍聲音。除了自己的心跳，我竟聽見另一個節奏，一下、一下，像有人正從外面緩慢敲擊泥土。我用盡最後力氣回應那節奏，棺木外的敲擊聲也逐漸加快。然而就在希望升起時，整個空間忽然開始劇烈震動，四周泥土不斷滑落，棺木迅速向更深處墜落。我感受到自己並非被埋在普通墓穴，而是滑向厄舍府地下更古老、更深遠的空間。棺木最終停下，四周再次恢復寂靜。忽然，棺蓋竟自己慢慢打開。一道微弱藍光照入眼前，我緩緩坐起，發現自己身處一座無數棺木排列而成的巨大石室。每一具棺木都微微震動，彷彿裡面仍有人呼吸。石室中央站著一名身穿黑衣的人，他背對著我，低聲說道：「每一位踏進厄舍府的人，都必須經歷一次死亡，才能真正離開。」他緩緩轉身，我驚恐地發現，那張臉竟與我一模一樣，只是神情冰冷，雙眼空洞，如同早已死去多年。他露出淡淡微笑，輕聲說：「歡迎回來。」就在那一刻，我終於開始懷疑，真正被埋葬的人，究竟是眼前的他，還是一直以為自己活著的我。
English Version
I believed the nightmare had ended when the last stone of the House of Usher disappeared beneath the earth. The valley lay silent behind me as dawn slowly spread across the hills. Then an unbearable pain pierced my mind. The landscape dissolved into darkness, and a single whisper reached my ears before consciousness faded. Your departure has not yet begun. When awareness returned, there was no light. I could neither stretch my legs nor raise my arms. Every movement met rough wooden walls pressing against my body. Damp soil filled the air with the smell of decay. Slowly, horrifying certainty emerged. I had awakened inside a coffin. Panic erupted without restraint. My fists pounded the lid above me while desperate cries vanished into layers of earth. Dust filtered through tiny cracks as splinters tore into my bleeding hands. The harder I struggled, the heavier the darkness became. Breathing turned difficult. Each breath carried less air than the one before. Just as despair threatened to consume every remaining thought, faint voices drifted through the confined silence. They did not belong to ghosts haunting the mansion. These were the forgotten voices of countless souls buried alive beneath the valley across generations. Each quietly shared the final moments of hope before surrendering to inevitable silence. Their stories held no anger. Only exhaustion remained. Running my fingers across the inside of the coffin, I discovered countless scratches carved into the wood. Some recorded names. Others marked passing days. One simple message appeared again and again: I am still alive. Hidden near the corner rested a worn metal fragment engraved with another sentence. The coffin is never your true prison. Fear is. Those words forced me to stop struggling. Instead of fighting blindly, I listened. Beneath my heartbeat came another sound. A slow rhythmic knocking echoed through the surrounding earth. I answered by tapping the coffin lid. The mysterious rhythm replied immediately. Hope returned for a single precious moment. Then everything shifted violently. Soil collapsed around the coffin as it slid downward through unseen tunnels beneath the valley. The descent seemed endless until sudden stillness returned. Without warning, the coffin lid slowly opened by itself. Pale blue light spilled inside. Rising cautiously, I found myself standing within an immense underground chamber filled with hundreds of coffins arranged in perfect rows. Every coffin trembled faintly, as though someone inside still breathed. At the center stood a solitary figure dressed entirely in black. His back remained turned as he spoke calmly into the silence. Everyone who enters the House of Usher must experience death once before truly leaving. He slowly turned toward me. My blood froze. The stranger possessed my face, my voice, my every feature, except his eyes contained nothing alive. They reflected endless emptiness, as though life had abandoned them centuries ago. A quiet smile crossed his expression. Welcome back, he whispered. Standing before my own impossible reflection, I could no longer distinguish memory from reality. Perhaps I had escaped the mansion after all. Or perhaps the person who believed he escaped had died long ago, leaving only another echo waiting beneath the earth for someone else to awaken inside a coffin and ask the same terrible question: who had truly been buried?
