text: [Themes: Horror, creepypasta, horror, female protagonist, Stalker]
  
  > look around
  The kitchen is almost pitch black. You feel your way around. The ceiling seems lower.
  
  > go to the south-east
  The single candle in your hand is next to worthless. Everything
  beyond your little circle is invisible. You don't know where the doors are.
  
  The phone.
  
  > go west
  You reach out, your hand an inch away from the top lock, when it turns by itself. CLICK. Then the next one. CLICK. The door rattles. POP. The last lock bursts out of the flimsy wood frame. The door swings open an inch.
  
  The door opens. Someone is there. The beam of a flashlight shines in your face and you're blinded, stars flickering around you in the darkness. "Look, I made it sweetie. . ." The figure moves towards you. Hands on your mouth and waist. Wet cloth with something chemical and sickening.
  
  Darkness. Men's voices. Wet.
  
  It's light. The rain has stopped. You're on the couch. The apartment's quiet and cold. You seem all right. You shiver.
  
  > go to the north-east
  You stand up and head towards the door, shivering. You look over should shoulder. Oh, no wonder it's so cold. The front door is wide open.
  
  The cardboard box from your closet is sitting in front of the open door. A dark stain is seeping out from the black cardboard onto the carpet. You move towards it shaky, bruised. There are things lying among your clothes in the box. A pair of glasses. A finger. A Zip-Loc bag of something viscous. A piece of scalp. Somehow you recognize it. Harvey finally made it home.
  
  You may restore a saved game, start over, or quit.
  
  > get up
  Okay, you're no longer on the couch.
  
  The news is on TV right now. The grinning anchorman fills the screen.
  
  Rain taps on the little square windows.
  
  > get the candle
  You pick up the candle.
  
  The TV continues, "This is the fourth slaying of this kind to occur in the past three weeks. . . "
  
  > adjust the antenna
  Wierd static rises and falls as you move the delicate rods.
  
  The TV continues, ". . .and police are focusing as much on quelling the growing panic in the city as on catching the killer. "
  
  > turn the dial
  You twist the dial but the selection isn't that wide, Harvey doesn't have cable. You flick through a few news programs, some documentary about carnivorous plants or something and end up on the same station you began.
  
  The TV continues, "We have been asked not to broadcast the images we have of the crime scene, but the killer has left his usual macabre calling cards."
  
  > look in the couch
  There's nothing in the couch.
  
  The TV continues, "The young woman's internal organs had been removed, and several thin strips of skin shaved from the body."
  
  The storm is gathering force outside.
  
  > read the textbooks
  You flip through one of the big books and find a set of transparencies. First the skeleton, then the veins over that, then the bright organs, then the muscles, and finally the skin.
  
  The TV continues, "While not wishing to encourage the unreasonable fear spreading through the city, the police do encourage women living alone to keep all curtains closed and make sure their doors are securely locked."
  
  > go east
  You can't go that way.
  
  The TV continues, "In a related story, Mayor Anderson has significantly increased active police presence on the streets and has proposed another raise in pay."
  
  > go to the west
  Going out in the pouring rain in the middle of the night wearing only your Mickey Mouse pajamas would be ridiculous. You'd wanted to just spend a quiet night at home.
  
  The TV continues, "These raises come at a crucial time, as work related stress causes growing numbers of investigators resign every week."
  
  > go northwest
  The kitchen is deep and narrow, with sink and stove and refrigerator jutting out at awkward angles. It's not that the place is really dirty, but your mother wouldn't be able to stand it. The tile counters are washed-out yellow, slightly grimy, and the sink is more than half filled with this week's dishes. You can see about half the living room through the arch to the southeast, light from the TV flickering on the far wall.
  
  For a moment the TV is blurred by loud static. Damn antennas.
  
  > draw
  Your materials are in the bedroom.
  
  The static clears and picks up with the anchorman saying, ". . .continued threats of chemical warfare."
  
  > open the fridge
  There is cold bread and meat in the refrigerator.
  
  The TV continues, "In further world news--" and is cut short by low static.
  
  > eat the bread
  You nibble some red salami and some other tid-bits, but you don't have much of an appetite.
  
  The television growls with hushed static.
  
  The phone's ringing, in the bedroom.
  
  > go to the southeast
  The living room is small, the couch takes up all the space. Some of your sketches hang on the walls above the TV and the cinder-block-and-boards bookshelf. You can see the kitchen to the northwest and the bedroom door to the northeast. The door to the outside hall is to the west.
  
  The TV continues to hum.
  
  > go to the north-east
  The bedroom is really much too small for everything in it. It was
  ok when it was just Harvey's big waterbed and his dresser, but when you brought in your drafting desk with its lamps and everything, the room just got too crowded. You have to practically crawl over the desk to get to the closet to the east and the door to the bathroom to the west is almost as blocked. Piles of Harvey's socks and clothes crouch on the floor. He's been used to being a bachelor for so long. You can see the living room through the arch to the southwest.
  
  The static on the TV gives out to total silence.
  
  > answer the phone
  You grab the receiver. "Hello?" No answer. You ask again and hear heavy breathing on the other end, panting. You stand there for a moment, trying to think of some response, something biting and clever, but you can't, and the harsh wheezing continues. You hang up the phone and stand there for a moment.
  
  > draw
  You sit down at the desk and grab a fresh piece of paper. You start moving your pencil over the smooth surface, letting it form whatever shapes it wants. A long dark gash on the paper resolves into a man's shadow. Diagonal lines mist into the slashing rain. Details, a long coat, a suitcase, a knife. . . You stop drawing and crumple up the paper. Another time.
  
  The sound on the TV suddenly comes back in, loud.
  
  A fat cockroach scurries over your bare left foot. Without thinking you jerk away and smash it with the ball of your right foot and it crunches under your skin. You quickly wipe the guts off your sole onto the floor and shudder.
  
  > draw yourself
  I don't know how to draw yourself.
  
  A hyperactive TV weatherman blurts out, "Well folks, tonight doesn't look too good."
  
  > Go east
  The closet is tiny and dark, barely enough room for you to stand in.
  A few of your clothes are hanging on the one bar but most of them are still in a big box on the floor.
  
  The TV continues, "This storm is gonna continue right up until tomorrow morning, and it is one monster of a storm."
  
  > look at the bar
  It's a plain metal pipe fitted into the walls. A few of your nice dresses are hanging from it.
  
  The TV continues, "Winds up to seventy-two miles per hour have been reported, and the rain just keeps coming down."
  
  > examine the dresses
  These are some of your nice clothes, the ones that you didn't want to just leave bunched up in the box.
  
  The TV continues, "It's like the end of the world out there."
  
  Lightning flashes brightly for a moment, lighting up the whole apartment. The thunder comes almost at once.
  
  > look at the box
  The box is a big cardboard thing that says "Rothschild's Vodka" on the side. The liquor store always has extra cardboard boxes, which you needed when you moved. The box is filled with most of your clothes, the stuff you haven't had time to unpack yet.
  
  There's a sudden clap of thunder outside and the wind starts picking up. The transmission on the TV starts to fade.
  
  > Go west
  As you start to leave the closet you hear sounds coming from the living room. CLICK. CLICK. The locks on the front door. Harvey must be home, finally. You call out to him, "Hi, honey," but there's no reply. CLICK. You hear the door swinging open, slowly and quietly. "Honey?" you call. No answer. Quiet feet in the living room.
  
  The sound on the TV fades in and out. You hear snatches of words and phrases.
  
  > go to the southwest
  You can't go that way.
  
  From the TV you hear, "Buy Fleischmann's. . .static, garble. . .
  it slices, it dices, it. . . static, garble. . . "
  
  > Go southeast
  You can't go that way.
  
  From the TV you hear, "In our last story. . .garble. . .Good-night from. . .static. . . "
  
  > go to the east
  You can't go that way.
  
  From the TV you hear, "Stay in. . .static. . .if you need. . .static. . .to go out. . ." and then complete silence.
  
  > go to the west
  You step out into the bedroom and look around. No one. You listen carefully but you can't hear anything but the TV.
  
  The bedroom is too small for everything in it. You have to
  practically crawl over the desk to get to the closet and the door to the bathroom is almost as blocked. Piles of Harvey's dirty clothes crouch on the floor.
  
  > Go southwest
  The living room is small, the couch takes up all the space. Some of your sketches hang on the walls above the TV and the cinder-block-and-boards bookshelf. You can see the kitchen to the northwest and the bedroom door to the northeast. The door to the outside hall is to the west.
  Sitting on the floor is a Polaroid picture.
  
  The storm is getting even worse, the rain drowning out any other sound.
  
  > examine Polaroid
  It takes you a minute to figure out what the blurry, close-up picture is of. When you realize, your stomach knots, the bile rises in your throat. You fight down the nausea.
  
  > go northwest
  The kitchen is narrow, with sink and stove and refrigerator jutting
  out at odd angles. The tile counters are washed-out yellow, and the sink is half filled with dishes. You can see about half the living room to the southeast.
  The refrigerator seems to contain some bread and meat.
  
  The sound on the TV jumps back in with raucous peals of laughter, some stupid sitcom or something.
  
  > turn off the stove
  You twist the timer knob and turn off the bell. You'd forgotten about the lasagna you put in to cook an hour ago. Harvey brought it home from the deli last night. You take it out of the oven and put it on the counter, still steaming.
  
  The tone of the TV changes and you hear, "We interrupt your regularly scheduled programming to bring you this important message."
  
  > cut the lasagna
  What do you want to attack it with?
  
  > go west
  You think about the Polaroid. There is someone out there. Not in the apartment, there wouldn't be anyplace to hide. But if you left, even to get to the other apartments in the building, you'd have to go out alone, down the unlit outside hall, and then around the hole length of the building in the dark and rain. Harvey has to be almost home.
  
  Static on the TV.
  
  > close the door
  It's too far away.
  
  Static on the TV.
  
  There's a white hot flash of lightning outside the window and something that sounds like an explosion. The apartment goes completely dark.
  The power's out.
  
  > go to the west
  You think about the Polaroid. There is someone out there. Not in the apartment, there wouldn't be anyplace to hide. But if you left, even to get to the other apartments in the building, you'd have to go out alone, down the unlit outside hall, and then around the hole length of the building in the dark and rain. Harvey has to be almost home.
  
  > get photo
  Taken.
  
  The phone.
  
  > go to the north-east
  You're disoriented in the total darkness. You can guess roughly
  where the bed and the table are, but you're not sure.
  
  > answer the phone
  The ringing is driving you crazy. You search the darkness desperately before your hands land on the phone and you snatch up the receiver.
  
  "What the fuck do you want?" you growl. There's silence for a moment.
  
  "That's not very nice language sweetie. I don't want to have to punish you more." You don't reply. "Is my pretty sweetie mad at me? Well don't you worry, I'll take care of that. You just stay right there." click. You drop the receiver.
  
  > call 911
  You pick up the receiver and punch 9, then 1. . . Then you pause. Nothing's really happened, why are you so panicky? You take a deep breath and hang up the phone.
  
  > call 911
  You dial 911 and wait. Ring. Ring.
  
  "Hello, 911, is this an emergency?"
  
  "Um. Yes, kinda. I've had some unusual phone calls--"
  
  "Let me patch you through to the police, and may I remind you that this number is for emergencies only." There's a sharp click, a pause, and then faint jazz and a voice telling you you're on hold. You slam down the receiver.
  
  From the darkness of the living room you hear noises. Rattling, at the door. Two sharp clicks. A loud pop. The door creaking open.
  
  > go southwest
  The single candle in your hand is next to worthless. Everything
  beyond your little circle is invisible. You don't know where the doors are.
  
  The door opens. Someone is there. The beam of a flashlight shines in your face and you're blinded, stars flickering around you in the darkness. "Look, I made it sweetie. . ." The figure moves towards you. Hands on your mouth and waist. Wet cloth with something chemical and sickening.
  
  Darkness. Men's voices. Wet.
  
  It's light. The rain has stopped. You're on the couch. The apartment's quiet and cold. You seem all right. You shiver.
  
  > check your inventory
  You have a set of pajamas (being worn).
  
  The cardboard box from your closet is sitting in front of the open door. A dark stain is seeping out from the black cardboard onto the carpet. You move towards it shaky, bruised. There are things lying among your clothes in the box. A pair of glasses. A finger. A Zip-Loc bag of something viscous. A piece of scalp. Somehow you recognize it. Harvey finally made it home.
  
  You may restore a saved game, start over, or quit.