Narrative: descriptive prose

The entrance is old, but grand. A giant wooden door made of rare wood and stainless steel metal. The stench was overpowering once the door was opened, with books overturned everywhere, and broken glass bottles, surrounded by chemical spills. The unsightliness of left over food from a week ago, which flies hovering around it. "Subjects" kept in metal traps, from worms to tigers. The sound of sparks made by exposed wires, the pictures of success on the wall all old and worn out. The sign over hanging from the top of the entrance to each and every single room, in which the rooms seemed to be infinite. The family picture of him and his parents. His father, in scientist suit. The sofa, unused but extremely dirty. The table, filled with maggots and cuts and holes. His walls, filled with cobwebs and cracks. The source of light, a light bulb, strong and bright, the light rays reaches out to every corner of the room. The floor, creaky and dusty, with footsteps all over it. But surprisingly, a part of the room seems to be extremely clean. The experiment corner, depicted by a sign, with blood and gore in the drain, and strange creatures that no one has every seen, in small cages made of a rough and special material.