Mother Glee

Deep beneath the floorboards of an abandoned Victorian asylum lies the Nursery of the Unfinished. The central figure, known only as Mother Glee, was born from the collective nightmares of children who were told to "smile or else." Her grin is fixed, a row of needle-sharp teeth that never moves, even when she whispers. Her "children" are failed attempts at joy—small, damp things that crawl through the weeping walls to fetch her shiny trinkets: brass buttons, teeth, and broken glass. To look at Mother Glee is to feel an overwhelming urge to laugh until your lungs give out, a final, hysterical joke before you become just another lumpy shadow in her corner.

Mother Glee doesn't want to hurt you—she wants to fix you. She believes that any expression other than a wide, toothy grin is a "mechanical failure" of the soul. Her small, stunted attendants—the Glee-lings—scuttle through the vents of the world above, looking for anyone who looks "broken" (sad, tired, or lonely).

If they find you, they don't drag you away. They simply whisper your name until you find yourself walking down into the damp, lightless basement to join her court. Once there, Mother Glee will sit you in her rusted chair and begin the "Correction."

The lightbulb hanging above her head isn't powered by electricity; it glows with the stolen "brightness" of her visitors. As you sit before her, your ability to feel anything but a manic, hollowed-out joy begins to drain away. Your face muscles tighten, your lips pull back, and eventually, you find that you can no longer close your mouth.

You become a permanent resident of the Grinning Nursery, a silent, smiling shadow huddling at her feet, waiting for the next "broken" person to arrive so you can show them how happy you finally are.