text: [Themes: Lovecraftian, Horror, surreal, horror]
  
  > Go downwards
  The ancient rungs creak alarmingly as you descend.
  
  The shuttered window at the end of the hall throws a gloomy rectangle of light onto the bare wooden floor. Doorways lead north and south.
  
  A rickety wooden ladder stands here, descending from a three-foot by three-foot square of darkness in the ceiling.
  
  > look up anna
  (in the nameplates)
  The nameplate reads "Anna Verlac, b. June 24, 1936, d. March 23, 1962". Like the others, this coffin is built of solid oak, sealed with lead.
  
  > search William
  In William's coffin is an animal's skeleton.
  
  > search skeleton
  The skeleton is in pieces; parts of it crumble even as you touch it. Only the animal's skull seems reasonably intact.
  
  > examine the skull
  The gruesome thing seems to leer at you with its bleached, toothy grin.
  
  > take the skull
  (slipping the letter opener into the pocket of your trenchcoat to get a hand free)
  Taken.
  
  > Go east
  Where once a building stood, there is now only cracked pavement and rampant weeds. A high chain-link fence surrounds this vacant lot; the only breaks lie to the west and southeast.
  
  The old man looks up at you with fawning admiration.
  
  > show the skull to the man
  The old man starts visibly when you show him the skull. "What about it?" he mutters.
  
  > ask the man about the skull
  "I don't know what you're talking about, so I don't," says the old man, but it's plain he's hiding something. He tries to crawl away, but is plainly too weak, and settles instead for rolling over on the mattress to face the other direction. "You're speaking gibberish. Go away."
  
  > ask the man about skull
  The old man bares his teeth. "You can't prove it! You can't prove anything, so you can't!"
  
  A flurry of dead leaves goes skittering along the ground, swirling past you in the wind.
  
  > continue
  "I'll not listen to lies!" screeches the old man, clapping his hands to his ears.
  
  > keep going
  "I'll not listen to lies!" screeches the old man, clapping his hands to his ears.
  
  A flurry of dead leaves goes skittering along the ground, swirling past you in the wind.
  
  > take the key
  (the small copper key)
  "Mine!" the old man hisses, clapping his hands onto his chest as though you were about to frisk him for it. "It's mine, and I won't let it go!"
  
  > tell the man about the coffin
  "I told you about that already," snaps the old man. "Why don't you leave me alone?"
  
  > Inventory
  You are wearing your trenchcoat, your clothes and your wedding ring; in addition, you have in your hands an animal's skull, a keyring, on which are four keys (an old-fashioned brass key, an old-fashioned iron key, a key to the house and a key to the cellar), a newspaper and a broom.
  
  The pockets of your trenchcoat contain a letter opener, a strange metal flute, a puzzle box (which is closed), a flask (which is closed), a slip of paper, Michael's faculty card, a bundle of soggy pages, a silver locket, a family album, a flashlight, a book of matches with six matches left, a torn journal, a typewritten notice, a lantern, your umbrella and a towel.
  
  > show the boy's picture to the man
  (first taking the silver locket)
  (slipping the newspaper into the pocket of your trenchcoat to get a hand free)
  The bum makes no move to take the locket, but he stares at the boy's picture inside with something akin to fear. "Ayuh," he whispers hoarsely, "that's him, so it is. That's the boy. That's William."
  
  > show the box to man
  (first taking the puzzle box)
  (slipping the keyring into the pocket of your trenchcoat to get a hand free)
  The old man stares at the puzzle box blankly, not sure what you want him to do with it.
  
  > show the pages to the man
  (first taking the bundle of soggy pages)
  (slipping the animal's skull into the pocket of your trenchcoat to get a hand free)
  The old man stares at the bundle of soggy pages blankly, not sure what you want him to do with it.
  
  > take the pages
  You already have that.
  
  > Go southwest
  The ground begins to rise sharply as the road climbs up into the hills south of town.
  
  The treeline falls away on the north side of this northwest-northeast bend in the road, giving way to a panoramic view of the Miskaton River Valley and the grubby little town of Anchorhead nestled within it. From here you can see the paper mill almost directly to the north; the solitary lighthouse and surrounding ocean to the northeast; and the dilapidated stone church below you to the east. Winding through it all is the oily black ribbon of the Miskaton, and almost directly in the center lies the little clearing of Town Square. You can just make out the shape of the obelisk from here.
  
  The cold wind cuts through your clothes, chilling you to the bone.
  
  > go to the north-west
  The lane runs up from the southeast and ends at a wide clearing surrounded by gnarled and ancient trees. A wide, curving driveway runs up to the front door of your house, which lies north.
  
  The Verlac mansion looms before you, casting an air of menace over the clearing.
  
  A flurry of dead leaves goes skittering along the ground, swirling past you in the wind.
  
  > unlock door
  (first taking the keyring)
  (slipping the silver locket into the pocket of your trenchcoat to get a hand free)
  Taken.
  You unlock the front door.
  
  > Go north
  A cramped little annex off the main attic, with a tiny, shuttered window high up on the north wall. A pile of mouldering straw in the corner and what looks like pencil marks on the lower part of the walls seem to indicate that someone lived here once. Or, possibly, was kept here.
  
  Lying amongst the filthy straw is a gold locket.
  
  > take the locket
  (the gold locket)
  (slipping the puzzle box into the pocket of your trenchcoat to get a hand free)
  Taken.
  
  > turn on the light
  The flashlight emits a warm yellow beam.
  
  The ceiling descends here to no more than three feet from the floor; you are forced to crawl through the cramped darkness on your hands and knees. To the east the attic becomes more spacious, while the northwest corner opens into an oddly-angled corridor.
  
  > Go northwest
  As you make your way down the corridor, you begin to get dizzy, then nauseous. Lines seem to cross without bending, the ceiling becomes the walls and the floor becomes the ceiling. Half-blind, unsure even of which direction you were going in, you stagger forward and suddenly find yourself in a...
  
  The ceiling descends here to no more than three feet from the floor; you are forced to crawl through the cramped darkness on your hands and knees. To the east the attic becomes more spacious, while the northwest corner opens into an oddly-angled corridor.
  
  > turn on the light
  The flashlight emits a warm yellow beam.
  
  The pantry is empty save for a layer of dust on the shelves. A door to the south leads down to the cellar, or you can return to the kitchen to the southeast.
  
  The cellar door stands open, revealing dark stairs leading down.
  
  > Go south
  You descend the gloomy steps into the dank cellar.
  
  The old, flagstone walls gleam with unwholesome-smelling moisture, and the sagging timbers creak uneasily above your head. Ancient, frayed wiring festoons the ceiling like some strange species of clinging vine. Portions of the cellar extend south and east into the clammy darkness, though you could always beat a hasty retreat up the stairs to the north.
  
  One largish bundle of wires leads down to a rusty old fuse cabinet bolted to the far wall.
  
  > open the cabinet
  It takes some grumbling and some tugging and finally a good, sharp yank, but the cabinet finally pops open.
  
  > look in the cabinet
  There's about two dozen fuses lined up in there, the old-fashioned kind that look like round, glass plugs. Every last one of them is blown.
  
  > take the fuse
  You pull one of the fuses out and try to rub some of the grime off. Sure enough, the little metal strip inside is melted to a black, twisted cinder. With a sigh, you plug it back into its socket.
  
  > Go east
  This wing of the cellar is even older than the rest, with walls of piled, unmortared stone. The entire room is filled with wine racks. They cover every wall except for one spot to the west, where an exit leads back to the main cellar.
  
  All of the racks are dust-covered and empty except for one against the north wall, which contains some forty or fifty dark bottles.
  
  You are reminded of something Michael told you during the long drive up: about how when the police arrived after the shooting, they found the wine cellar in a shambles -- nearly every bottle thrown to the floor and shattered, and the whole place reeking of rotted grapes. All except the bottles in the north rack. None of those had been touched. No one could posit a motive for it.
  
  You smile a bit, recalling your husband's ability to turn a piece of insignificant trivia into a compelling story. Still, though, now that you're actually standing here... it all seems very strange.
  
  > examine the wine
  Which do you mean, the wine racks or the wine bottles?
  
  > Bottles
  Row after row of smooth, dust-covered glass. The wine inside is dark and murky, reminding you, somewhat irrationally, of blood.
  
  > take the bottle
  Strange; the bottles all seem to be fixed in place. They won't come out of the rack no matter how you tug at them.
  
  > examine the racks
  These racks must have at one time contained hundreds upon hundreds of wine bottles. Idly, you wonder which member of the family developed such a taste for what would have been, for the first few generations at least, a sinful vice of the basest kind.
  
  > search bottles
  There are dozens of bottles here. You glance over the rows, but nothing jumps out at you as immediately odd.
  
  > play the flute
  (the strange metal flute)
  (first taking the strange metal flute)
  (slipping the bundle of soggy pages into the pocket of your trenchcoat to get a hand free)
  Taken.
  You blow an open chord into the little flute, and it resonates with an eerie, metallic warble. The sound lingers in the air for a moment, then gently fades away.
  
  > cover the first hole
  You place your finger over the first flute hole.
  
  > play the flute
  (the strange metal flute)
  The flute emits an eerie, almost sub-sonic note. The sound lingers in the air for a moment, then gently fades away.
  
  > cover the second hole
  You place your finger over the second flute hole.
  
  > play the flute
  (the strange metal flute)
  The flute emits an odd mixture of metallic, warbling notes which intertwine and harmonize eerily with each other. The sound lingers in the air for a moment, then gently fades away.
  
  > cover the third hole
  You place your finger over the third flute hole.
  
  > cover the fourth hole
  You place your finger over the fourth flute hole.
  
  > cover the fifth hole
  You place your finger over the fifth flute hole.
  
  > cover the sixth hole
  You place your finger over the sixth flute hole.
  
  > cover the seventh hole
  You place your finger over the seventh flute hole.
  
  > look at the flute
  (the strange metal flute)
  It appears to be some kind of wind instrument, fashioned out of ornately carved, greenish metal. Seven holes of varying sizes are drilled along the top Your fingers are covering the first, second, third, fourth, fifth, sixth and seventh holes.
  
  > put the flute in the coat
  (the strange metal flute in the trenchcoat)
  You slip the strange metal flute into the pocket of your trenchcoat.
  
  > examine the flute
  (the strange metal flute)
  It appears to be some kind of wind instrument, fashioned out of ornately carved, greenish metal. Seven holes of varying sizes are drilled along the top.
  
  > examine the gold locket
  It is oval-shaped, the clasp open to reveal a tiny picture inside.
  
  > show the gold locket to the man
  The bum starts to reach for the locket, but his hand stops a few inches away. His fingers are trembling. He gazes at the woman's picture with grief and regret, and a hint of something akin to love. "Why," he whispers, "that's the very likeness, so it is. That's my Anna. Pretty little Anna..."
  
  > show the flask to the man
  (first taking the flask)
  His eyes burning with greed, the old man snatches the flask from your hand, unscrews the cap and tips it up into his waiting mouth. Then, sputtering angrily as he realizes there is no whiskey in it, he hurls the flask across the lot and glares at you with something approaching real hatred.
  
  > put the broom in the pocket
  The broom is too long to fit in your pockets, deep though they are.
  
  The cold wind blows harder, tugging at the hem of your trenchcoat.
  
  > go south
  Perhaps it is merely the effect of some unwholesome vapour rising from the murky waters of the nearby Miskaton, but the temperature along this street seems perceptibly cooler than normal, even for a New England autumn. Two dirt roads lead south and southwest, into the dense woods at the edge of town.
  
  The cold wind cuts through your clothes, chilling you to the bone.
  
  > examine the ivy
  The ivy clutches at the weathered stones as if trying to drag them back down into the earth.
  
  > examine door
  At least a dozen sturdy boards have been nailed across the sturdy oak doors; even with proper tools, it would take you days to pry them loose.
  
  > examine the window
  You can't see inside at all; the windows are completely boarded up.
  
  > examine the boards
  The boards are sturdy pine, securely nailed across every visible door and window.
  
  A flurry of dead leaves goes skittering along the ground, swirling past you in the wind.
  
  > look at the padlock
  The padlock, which is the size of your fist, is so thoroughly rusted that it looks like one huge homogeneous lump of corrosion. Although it's still quite strong, you might be able to break it if you had something heavy enough.
  
  > check your inventory
  You are wearing your trenchcoat, your clothes and your wedding ring; in addition, you have in your hands a flask (which is open but empty), a gold locket, a keyring, on which are four keys (an old-fashioned brass key, an old-fashioned iron key, a key to the house and a key to the cellar) and a broom.
  
  The pockets of your trenchcoat contain a strange metal flute, a bundle of soggy pages, a puzzle box (which is closed), a silver locket, an animal's skull, a newspaper, a letter opener, a slip of paper, Michael's faculty card, a family album, a flashlight, a book of matches with six matches left, a torn journal, a typewritten notice, a lantern, your umbrella and a towel.
  
  > hit the padlock with the broom
  You can't get in a good blow with the broom; you need something heavier.
  
  > hit the padlock with the flashlight
  (first taking the flashlight)
  (slipping the keyring into the pocket of your trenchcoat to get a hand free)
  You can't get in a good blow with the flashlight; you need something heavier.
  
  > hit the padlock with the skull
  (first taking the animal's skull)
  (slipping the gold locket into the pocket of your trenchcoat to get a hand free)
  You can't get in a good blow with the animal's skull; you need something heavier.
  
  > examine the underbrush
  The woods are ancient, thick with undergrowth and full of shadows. Branches creak, leaves rustle beneath unseen, half-imagined footsteps, and strange birdcalls echo through the trees.