text: [Themes: horror, serious]
  
  "Um, let's go through here." You motion to the left, through a glossy looking lounge with a wet bar.
  
  Sophie follows warily. "Are you sure she went this way?" she asked you, as you tread softly over oriental rugs, and into a lush and tasteful dining room. "I swear I saw her go..."
  
  Just then you hush her. "I hear someone in the next room," you whisper.
  
  "Why are you whispering?" she whispers back.
  
  "Gosh, I don't know. I felt kind of weird creeping through this house. Let's just go ask whoever's in there if they can unlock the front door."
  
  You push through the swinging door. It's a kitchen, dressed up with chrome everything. It's not very well lit, and the only light is the pale rays streaming through curtains near the sink. And standing in front of that sink, facing away from you, is a woman. She has her red hair pulled back in a loose ponytail, and she is wearing a black bath robe.
  
  "Excuse me," you clear your throat. "But we're the cleaners that were hired, and well, I just remembered I left all my vacuum bags at home, so we really need to be going."
  
  Nothing. The woman is silent. All that can be heard in the room is the soft ping of water dripping into the chrome sink basin.
  
  "Uh, hello...?" Sophie calls. "Excuse me..."
  
  The woman turns around on you sharply.
  
  "Good god!" You choke out. Sophie grips onto your arm. The woman stares menacingly at you, her face a chilling mask of malevolence and rage. She grasps a large butcher knife in her hands, and is almost smiling in an insane way as she advances upon you.
  
  "What the hell?!?!" You and Sophie tear back out of the kitchen the way you came. As you run through the dining room, Sophie asks, terrified "What is going on?"
  
  You reply, breathlessly, "I don't really know" through the lounge you run, and into the foyer. You jerk frantically on the front door, but it's still locked!! You glance fearfully over your shoulder to see if you have company coming... but surprisingly, there is no one there.
  
  You look at Sophie. "What should we do? We're locked in here with some crazy woman!" she sobs.
  
  "Okay, let's just not panic. We'll just find a phone, or a sane person, and get the hell out of here," you tell her.
  
  "What should we do, Alex? Should we..."
  
  > say "Try going into the sitting room?"
  "Let's go back into the sitting room. There's probably a phone, or the maid might be back," you tell Sophie.
  
  The two of you walk into the sitting room. You jump as a roll of thunder rips through the room. Looking to your right out the heavily barred windows, you can see it has started to rain. As clouds move over the house, the room slowly darkens.
  
  "Ooh, I don't like this," Sophie shivers.
  
  The two of you search around for a phone. You can't find one, so you and Sophie head into the next room.
  
  You push on the heavy oak swinging door. It moves open with a low groan, and you enter a dim living room. You look over at a low table in the corner, and your eyes fix on the desired object on the desired object - a telephone! You rush over and grab the receiver excitedly. Putting it to your ear, you start to dial - but-
  
  "There's no dial tone..." you tell Sophie. She looks at you sadly, and tries the phone for herself. "Nothing," she whimpers.
  
  "Hey, look at this..." you say. There is a small phone book. Filed between the pages are strips of newspaper. You pull one out. It's a very faded line of "help offered" ads. You read a few which a circled. "Education student seeks part-time nanny position" "We will walk your dog! Call Jane and Katie."
  You pull out another strip. It is personal ads. There are three circled. "SWF, 24, pretty n' plump, seeks soul mate" "SBF, 22, loves red wine and Scrabble" "SWF, 19, N/S, N/D. I love everything. Let's meet!" You pull out yet another cutting. This is newer. Your eyes scan down, and you recognize the ad that you and Sophie placed. It is circled in magic marker. Sophie, who has been reading along, says "What do these mean?"
  
  You stand up. "Well, either there's a lonely guy, who wants a nanny and dog walker, livign here, or something really wrong is going on. I think we sh - "
  
  You stop and whirl around as you hear the door groaning softly. Through the dusty light of the room, you see a tall, well groomed man with black hair. He is smiling at you, his brows knit, and inquiry on his lips.
  
  Sophie stands up hurriedly. "Excuse me - I'm sorry, but we really need to be going and..."
  
  He approaches, a comforting smile on his face. "I'm very sorry," he says warmly. "I think you might have run into my wife in the kitchen." You and Sophie look at each other, remembering the knife-wielding maniac. He continues. "She's been ill lately. I'm sorry she turned on you with the knife. You surprised her while she was cooking. She's gone back to bed. I promise you she won't be a problem." He smiles again, his white teeth sparkling. "I'm sorry, we haven't been introduced. I'm Mr. Alexander, the owner of the house. You're Sophie and Alex, right? Pleased to meet you. Let's just get you the list of tasks ans you can get started."
  
  You bite your lip. His story is kind of plausible, but you're still troubled.
  
  What do you do?
  
  > Run!
  You see that he left the living room door open. You grab Sophie's wrist and you run for the door. Mr. Alexander quickly makes his move and grabs the two of you by the collars.
  
  "So, we're going to play it the hard way, huh?" he hisses into your ear. "Fine. But you'll wish you cooperated..."
  
  Suddenly he makes a choking noise and lets you go. You make no hesitation, and you dart out the door.
  
  As you and Sophie hurdle through the sitting room and up the staircase, you ask her, "What just happened? Why did he let us go?"
  
  "I kicked him in the nuts," Sophie replies.
  
  "Oh," you say. The two of you look for a hiding place upstairs. You see a room that looks like a children's playroom, so you hurry in there seeking shelter.
  
  You decide to hide behind a large bookshelf. But as you are climbing behind it, you bump into the wall. To your surprise, the paneling opens inward into a dark, foul smelling room.
  
  "What is this?" Sophie asks you.
  
  "Something else weird, I suppose..." you choke, gagging on the smell coming from the room.
  
  Just then, a small voice floats out of the darkness. "hello?"
  
  What do you do?
  
  > Answer.
  "Hello?" you tentatively call back. "Who's there?"
  
  A small figure lurches out slowly from the shadows. You start, but stay where you are. The figure stops just on the edge of the light, so that you cannot see it fully.
  
  "Have you come to help?" the voice asks. You realize now that this is a child. You are filled with pity.
  
  "Yes, yes, we've come to help you!" you answer. "Are you hurt?"
  
  "Yes..." the voice answers. "I've been hurt a long time...."
  
  And with that, the child steps into the light. It is horribly deformed, with large cysts on its face and chest. It does not have much hair and its mouth is malformed, twisted into a painful little bow.
  
  You gasp and ....
  
  > run for the door.
  You are disgusted and you run, stumbling over Sophie, to the door. You run as fast as your legs will take you, hurdling down the hallway. Just as you reach the end, a woman steps out from a doorway. You scream and stop! She has red hair and is wearing a black bathrobe, and she doesn't look friendly. You guess this from the 10-inch butcher knife she is wielding. Her eyes widen in a maniacal way as she advances. You turn on your heels to run in the opposite direction, but standing right behind you is Mr. Alexander, not looking too friendly himself. He grabs you roughly, pinning your arms behind your back.
  
  "How long are you going to run around this house?" he asks tensely. You feel a sharp sting, and then a prolonged burn. Not again... "Did you ever really think you could get away? It's our house after all..." His voice drifts off into the darkness as you sink into unconsciousness.
  
  But this time you never wake up! No chance to escape this time. Guess you died on the operating table. What a pity.