text: [Themes: Lovecraftian, female protagonist, horror]
  
  > look around
  You're in a brick basement bathed in the dismal glow of a single red-tinted lightbulb. A curved wooden writing desk sits directly beneath the bulb. The shelf-covered walls bulge with miscellaneous old hardware and junk, and a ten foot staircase leads up to the basement door. A freezer chest in the corner emits a low hum. The air down here smells metallic and unpleasant.
  
  You see a newspaper clipping on the desk.
  
  You see the mahogany podium with the buttons on it.
  
  (Music consisting mostly of a muffled beat rolls around uncomfortably in the background.)
  
  > examine the spot
  You return to the part of the wall singled out by the kaleidoscope. Carefully, you move your head around the surface - up, down, back and forth - but, frustratingly, the other noises in the vicinity distract your ears, and you are unable to rediscover the sound.
  
  (A weirdly undulating beat plays in the background.)
  
  > check your inventory
  You are carrying:
  Abril's ring
  a note from a seesaw
  a piece of chalk
  a shard
  a broken silver amulet
  a teapot
  a tiny leather journal
  Daniel Baker's note
  an old paperback book
  an old newspaper (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a metal flask (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a half-full styrofoam coffee cup (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a familiar gold wristwatch
  a glass jar containing an insect
  a pull-string doll (smelling faintly of mildew)
  The Modern Girl's Divination Handbook -- Volume Three
  a postcard of Big Ben (smelling faintly of mildew)
  the diary of Phyllis Cragne (smelling faintly of mildew)
  The Dollmaker's Journal (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a repaired page (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a wad of cash
  an antique locket (smelling faintly of mildew) (closed)
  a moldy, waterlogged journal (smelling faintly of mildew)
  Twin Hearts Between the Planes
  a trolley schedule (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a backpack features guide
  a grimy rock (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a long hooked pole (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a soggy tome
  an employee ID card (smelling faintly of mildew)
  some yellowed newspapers
  a rusty piece of metal
  Tolerating An Asinine God (smelling faintly of mildew)
  loose bricks (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a black business card (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a trophy for a dog race (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a rusty flathead screwdriver
  a pair of garden shears (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a gallon jug of white vinegar (smelling faintly of mildew)
  some mildewed leather gloves
  a key from an urn
  a bronze urn (closed)
  a copper urn (smelling faintly of mildew) (closed)
  a spray bottle that used to contain fungicide
  a waterproof flashlight (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a pamphlet of home listings (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a mallet (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a gold jacket (being worn)
  a filthy rug
  a hovering spark (haunting you) (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a giant milkweed leaf (being worn as a mask)
  a Jansport backpack (being worn and open)
  a hidden pocket (open but empty)
  a key pocket (closed)
  a book pocket (open but empty)
  a side pocket (closed)
  a trash pocket (closed)
  a trolley pass (being worn)
  
  (A weirdly undulating beat plays in the background.)
  
  > Lfo
  You press the LFO button. Its light goes out. The undulations disappear from the music.
  The air trembles and your surroundings change.
  
  The Music Room (Wade Clarke)
  You are in a large modern studio space, not unlike a concert hall but without any seating. Dark, golden-hued wooden paneling lines the floor and walls, imbuing the area with an intimate atmosphere in spite of its size. The walls curve inwards in a carefully designed asymmetrical fashion (some kind of acoustic treatment?) and electric-bulbed faux chandeliers fill the place with ruddy light.
  
  A doorway leads out of the music room to the west.
  
  Standing against the center of the eastern wall, facing you, is a mahogany podium with four push-buttons on it.
  
  (A steady beat plays in the background.)
  
  > say francine
  You say, "Francine."
  
  (Slowly-pulsing beats and a high, elusive melody play in the background.)
  
  > pick up the phone
  You pick up the phone. There's no-one on the line, just a dial tone, so you put it down.
  
  (Slowly-pulsing beats and a high, elusive melody play in the background.)
  
  > pick up the phone
  You pick up the phone. This time there's a sound like television static coming down the line. After a few moments the line goes dead and you hear a soft thud nearby. Looking around, you see a small black box at your feet. You have an impression it fell out the bottom of the telephone.
  
  (Slowly-pulsing beats and a high, elusive melody play in the background.)
  
  > get the black box
  Taken.
  
  (Slowly-pulsing beats and a high, elusive melody play in the background.)
  
  > open it
  Opening the box reveals a pair of green stone earrings.
  
  (Slowly-pulsing beats and a high, elusive melody play in the background.)
  
  > look at the earrings
  (first taking the earrings out of the box)
  
  You remove the first earring from the box and take a closer look at it. Actually, there are no pins or clips on this ovaloid object. Its curved, organic contours remind you of something else. An ear. Could it be something that goes in the ear canal? An earplug?
  
  Your idea gains credence when you take the second stone out of the box and find it to be a physical mirror image of the first.
  
  The earplugs appear to be made out of jade or some other ornate green mineral, but to the touch they don't have the coldness of stone you'd expect. One earplug is specifically shaped to fit in the left ear canal, the other the right.
  
  (Slowly-pulsing beats and a high, elusive melody play in the background.)
  
  > wear them
  You put the earplugs in your ears. Strangely - very strangely - they have no effect on the quality of your hearing. You expected everything to become muffled, at least as much as if you'd put your fingers in your ears and probably more, but that hasn't happened.
  
  (Slowly-pulsing beats and a high, elusive melody play in the background.)
  
  > Lfo
  You press the LFO button and it lights up. The music begins to undulate rhythmically.
  The air trembles and your surroundings change.
  
  You are in a small, damp-smelling circular chamber flagged in an iridescent sea green. There's a hole in the ceiling leading into a sloped shaft, and a drainage grille in the floor. The plinking of distant water echoes up through the grille. Some weak bluish light bounces down into the chamber from the shaft. The light catches scratches on the floor.
  
  You see a child's kaleidoscope tube set on a metal stand, like a telescope.
  
  You see the mahogany podium with the buttons on it.
  
  (A weirdly undulating beat plays in the background.)
  
  > examine the spot
  You return to the part of the wall singled out by the kaleidoscope. Carefully, you move your head around the surface - up, down, back and forth - and manage to isolate the source of the sound to a spot on the wall only a quarter of an inch in diameter. This is definitely the source of the voice you overheard.
  
  (A weirdly undulating beat plays in the background.)
  
  > Continue
  (to the spot on the wall)
  
  "Francine," intones a deep, old male voice, "today we admit you to the station of Xanthic Alderman of the Variegated Court."
  
  A long pause.
  
  "Xanthic," says Francine. "That's yellow, right? Have you ever seen me wear yellow? The color of cowardice and liver disease?"
  
  > Keep going
  (to the spot on the wall)
  
  The man raises his voice, though his tone is placating. "Your blood and your presence are essential to the continued power of this court. Don't make light of this station. With your strain of the blood, your gifts, you may be the last of your kind. That's why we are bestowing this honor upon you, quite in spite of everything that you do. You cannot be wasted."
  
  "No," Francine says quickly, "I'm not the last of my kind. You're the last of your kind. All of you in this above-ground crypt passing for a home. I'm the first of my kind. I've only just realised it."
  
  > continue
  (to the spot on the wall)
  
  The man: "Sit down, you promiscuous cunt!"
  
  "Did you charm your wife with that talk, Calvin? No wonder she killed herself, you daughter-fucking piece of shit."
  
  A strangled cry comes from the man, numerous chairs scrape the floor and everyone starts yelling.
  
  > Continue
  (to the spot on the wall)
  
  Francine projects her voice over the top of the din: "You can't move against me while you need me in that chair. So I'm going to leave it empty. And I'm going to kill you by outliving you, Calvin. Because you're old."
  
  You hear Francine's booted feet thump out of the room as the situation disintegrates into a cacophony.
  
  > Keep going
  (to the spot on the wall)
  
  The noise diminishes as people storm out of the meeting. Eventually you hear a door close. Then silence.
  
  > Continue
  (to the spot on the wall)
  
  You hear the ambience of a large, empty room, as if you were in it yourself.
  
  > Continue
  (to the spot on the wall)
  
  The silence of an empty room.
  
  > Lfo
  You press the LFO button. Its light goes out. The undulations disappear from the music.
  The air trembles and your surroundings change.
  
  The Music Room (Wade Clarke)
  You are in a large modern studio space, not unlike a concert hall but without any seating. Dark, golden-hued wooden paneling lines the floor and walls, imbuing the area with an intimate atmosphere in spite of its size. The walls curve inwards in a carefully designed asymmetrical fashion (some kind of acoustic treatment?) and electric-bulbed faux chandeliers fill the place with ruddy light.
  
  A doorway leads out of the music room to the west.
  
  Standing against the center of the eastern wall, facing you, is a mahogany podium with four push-buttons on it.
  
  (A steady beat plays in the background.)
  
  > examine the gig
  Printed on the gig poster in hectic green and black writing that you can barely read is:
  
  Coming up at The Carfax!
  
  Bread Loaf Mountaineers
  Pyramidial Tension
  Xavier feat. The Cosmos
  Francine C
  
  Each of these bands' logos fights for space on the poster in a cacophony of typefaces.
  
  (Underneath cold and muffled tones, a dull beat plays in the background.)
  
  > examine Mountaineers
  You scrutinize the Bread Loaf Mountaineers logo on the gig poster. The letter O in "Loaf" flickers once, almost imperceptibly, and you feel something touch the inside of your right hand. You open that hand to discover a ring.
  
  (Underneath cold and muffled tones, a dull beat plays in the background.)
  
  > look at the ring
  Which do you mean, the far place ring, Abril's ring or the rubber ring?
  
  > examine the far place ring
  A simple ring with a coppery hue.
  
  (Underneath cold and muffled tones, a dull beat plays in the background.)
  
  > Wait
  Time passes.
  
  The earthquake intensifies so that there's nothing more to reality than incredibly violent motion. Everyone screams, the sound merging with the bestial roar of some third party whose black form erupts through the floor of the bedroom. It takes all of you.
  
  > drop the chalk
  (the piece of chalk)
  You toss the chalk out into the room through the gap between the doors.
  
  "There!" yells the boy. You glimpse Francine's hand snatching up the chalk, then she bends over to draw something on the floor. The earthquake immediately stops.
  
  "How'd you do that?" shouts the boy. "How the hell'd you do that?"
  
  "Shut up," says Francine, panting, milling around in front of the closet. She looks flushed and excited. A single drop of sweat falls from her wet brow onto the front of her singlet. You see her face alter subtly into a relaxed mask before she turns back to the boy. "We were never going to die. I just wanted to scare you properly."
  
  "Well, it worked," says the boy, sounding exhausted. "I've never seen levitation shit like that at the Maximas dojo. Come on, you have to show them you can make this stuff happen."
  
  "I'm still waiting for them to show me something," says Francine. You hear the chalk clink to the floor. A door opens and someone walks out.
  
  "Don't talk 'round me, France. I hate that." The boy's voice trails out of the room. The door shuts and a lock rattles. It's probably safe for you to leave the closet now.
  
  (A steady but dulled beat plays in the background.)
  
  > Leave
  You get out of the closet.
  
  You see the mahogany podium with the buttons on it.
  
  You can also see a piece of chalk and a closet here.
  
  The room smells bad. It could really use an airing.
  
  (A steady but dulled beat plays in the background.)
  
  > get the chalk
  (the piece of chalk)
  Taken.
  
  The room smells pretty bad. It could use an airing.
  
  (A steady but dulled beat plays in the background.)
  
  > open the window
  You slide the window up and are grateful for the fresh breeze that starts to billow into the room. From this vantage point, you find that you have a splendid second floor view of the grounds of Cragne Manor.
  
  In this light, at this time, the place could pass for normal.
  
  As you step back, you are startled by a paper plane. It flies in through the window, brushes past your head and lands on the bedroom floor.
  
  (A steady but dulled beat plays in the background.)
  
  > get the plane
  Taken.
  
  (A steady but dulled beat plays in the background.)
  
  > examine it
  The paper from which this plane is made is brown and stained. Is this the same plane you saw the child Francine throw out the window? You never did see what was written on it.
  
  (A steady but dulled beat plays in the background.)
  
  > unfold it
  You carefully unfold the paper plane to reveal a child's drawing.
  
  (A steady but dulled beat plays in the background.)
  
  > look at it
  This primitive, colored marker drawing is of a female corpse. The body lies straight out in repose, the eyes are crosses and the tongue lolls over an upside down U of an unhappy mouth. A circle has been drawn around the whole body, and two rings have been drawn with more than stick figure care on the stick figure fingers.
  
  (A steady but dulled beat plays in the background.)
  
  > Lfo
  You press the LFO button and it lights up. The music begins to undulate rhythmically.
  
  The air trembles and your surroundings change.
  
  You're in a brick basement bathed in the dismal glow of a single red-tinted lightbulb. A curved wooden writing desk sits directly beneath the bulb. The shelf-covered walls bulge with miscellaneous old hardware and junk, and a ten foot staircase leads up to the basement door. A freezer chest in the corner emits a low hum. The air down here smells metallic and unpleasant.
  
  On the desk you see a newspaper clipping and two torn sheets of paper.
  
  You see the mahogany podium with the buttons on it.
  
  (Music consisting mostly of a muffled beat rolls around uncomfortably in the background.)
  
  > put the far ring on the body
  You slip the far place ring onto one of the corpse's fingers.
  
  > look at what you're carrying with you
  You are carrying:
  a drawing of a corpse
  a piece of chalk
  a pair of stone earplugs (being worn)
  a black box (open but empty)
  Abril's ring
  a note from a seesaw
  a shard
  a broken silver amulet
  a teapot
  a tiny leather journal
  Daniel Baker's note
  an old paperback book
  an old newspaper (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a metal flask (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a half-full styrofoam coffee cup (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a familiar gold wristwatch (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a glass jar containing an insect
  a pull-string doll (smelling faintly of mildew)
  The Modern Girl's Divination Handbook -- Volume Three
  a postcard of Big Ben (smelling faintly of mildew)
  the diary of Phyllis Cragne (smelling faintly of mildew)
  The Dollmaker's Journal (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a repaired page (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a wad of cash
  an antique locket (smelling faintly of mildew) (closed)
  a moldy, waterlogged journal (smelling faintly of mildew)
  Twin Hearts Between the Planes
  a trolley schedule (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a backpack features guide
  a grimy rock (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a long hooked pole (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a soggy tome (smelling faintly of mildew)
  an employee ID card (smelling faintly of mildew)
  some yellowed newspapers (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a rusty piece of metal
  Tolerating An Asinine God (smelling faintly of mildew)
  loose bricks (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a black business card (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a trophy for a dog race (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a rusty flathead screwdriver
  a pair of garden shears (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a gallon jug of white vinegar (smelling faintly of mildew)
  some mildewed leather gloves
  a key from an urn
  a bronze urn (closed)
  a copper urn (smelling faintly of mildew) (closed)
  a spray bottle that used to contain fungicide
  a waterproof flashlight (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a pamphlet of home listings (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a mallet (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a gold jacket (being worn)
  a filthy rug
  a hovering spark (haunting you) (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a giant milkweed leaf (being worn as a mask)
  a Jansport backpack (being worn and open)
  a hidden pocket (open but empty)
  a key pocket (closed)
  a book pocket (open but empty)
  a side pocket (closed)
  a trash pocket (closed)
  a trolley pass (being worn)
  
  (Strange music plays in the background. Beats, pulses and dissonant high notes move in and out of time. The whole piece ripples up and down in frequency.)
  
  > put the abril's ring on the body
  You ease Abril's ring onto one of the corpse's fingers.
  
  > examine the body
  You want to understand more about what's happened here, or why, or who this is, but it's dark and you're numb and afraid. Your mind feels like it's retreated under a rock.
  
  (Strange music plays in the background. Beats, pulses and dissonant high notes move in and out of time. The whole piece ripples up and down in frequency.)
  
  > look at chalk
  (the piece of chalk)
  A piece of plain white chalk.
  
  (Strange music plays in the background. Beats, pulses and dissonant high notes move in and out of time. The whole piece ripples up and down in frequency.)
  
  > draw with the chalk
  That won't help.
  
  (Strange music plays in the background. Beats, pulses and dissonant high notes move in and out of time. The whole piece ripples up and down in frequency.)
  
  > draw the circle
  You maneuver your way around the corpse, scrawling a series of chalk arcs on the ground until you find yourself back where you started. The woman's body is now enclosed within a circle.
  
  The wind begins to rise. The trees whip about even more violently. Clouds slide over the moon, plunging the clearing into a gritty darkness. The ground stirs. You find yourself instinctively stepping away from the corpse.
  
  Two points of light appear in the dark: the two rings on the corpse's fingers. They glow for a moment and then wink out.
  
  Now the clearing fills with a new, cold and sourceless light, rendering it a frozen landscape. The background music devolves into a quiet roar. There's no detail or tone in the sound. It's just a presence.
  
  You are shocked by a blast of heat about your person, and find yourself hurling Francine's drawing of the corpse to the ground, where it bursts into a fireball. Then it's not there anymore.
  
  A woman stands up at the edge of the clearing. She leans one hand on a tree, the hand with two rings on it. Dressed all in black, her red hair licked by the wind, she looks somehow magnificent in the frozen light. You glance down to Francine, destroyed and headless on the ground, then back to magnificent Francine leaning on the tree. She looks into your eyes and her wide mouth shows the slightest smile. Then she turns and hurries away into the forest. You are alone with the corpse again.
  
  The strange light fades. The clouds part for the moon. The natural state of things returns.
  
  The Music Room (Wade Clarke)
  You are in a large modern studio space, not unlike a concert hall but without any seating. Dark, golden-hued wooden paneling lines the floor and walls, imbuing the area with an intimate atmosphere in spite of its size. The walls curve inwards in a carefully designed asymmetrical fashion (some kind of acoustic treatment?) and electric-bulbed faux chandeliers fill the place with ruddy light.
  
  A doorway leads out of the music room to the west.
  
  Standing against the center of the eastern wall, facing you, is a mahogany podium with four push-buttons on it.
  
  Francine's voice says, "Thank you, Naomi." She draws out the
  syllables of your name in a mocking fashion. "You've been helpful.
  I wonder if you get how helpful. I knew the right person would visit the music room eventually."
  
  The voice sighs, like she's stretching. You feel you can almost see her before you. Your mind suddenly recalls the madness in the eyes of that little red-haired girl calling out to invisible things in the dark of her bedroom. How did she, and you, arrive at this point together? You try to think only of finding Peter again. That goal is an anchor of sanity.
  
  "What am I going to do for you? Well, I pity anyone who has to
  play stupid games with my family here in the manor. So I'll help you cheat. But I can't just say certain Cragne secrets out loud. That would break the protection on this room.
  
  "You already overheard one thing you need to know when you were listening in l'oreille. And about the other thing. Did you
  know that I have a familiar? The animal was seen at my grave."
  Then she adds, "My first grave."
  
  A paper plane suddenly flies through the doorway into the music room. It lands at your feet with a thud.
  
  > look at it
  This paper plane is a little heavier than the last one you held.
  
  > open it
  You unfold the paper plane. It's a police report.
  
  > look at it
  The police report has several pages.
  
  > read it
  The report is three and a half pages long. It reads:
  
  Commander's interim report to the Public Safety Commissioner on the investigation into the murder of Francine Cragne
  
  Keith Browne, Jr.
  
  January 18, 1999
  
  The bulk of this report comprises a summary of the five month investigation into the murder of twenty-seven-year-old Francine Cragne in the town of Waterville, Lamoille County, Vermont in late 1998. The report concludes with a description of the investigation's recently broadened scope. The FBI are assisting Vermont State Police with the investigation as of the date of this report.
  
  In the early morning of August 5, 1998, two Vermont fishermen called police after finding the body of a woman in forestland in Waterville. They had been walking along a nature trail when a bird flew across their path and startled them. (They say the bird turned out to be a peregrine.) Searching for the bird, they found it in a tree overlooking a clearing. A woman was lying on her back in the clearing. The location was approximately 300 feet northwest of the Montgomery Covered Bridge. The woman's clothes had been lifted to reveal her stomach. The words "FUCK YOU" were written on her stomach in blood. The fishermen said they could not see the woman's head.
  
  First responding troopers located four shotgun shells near the corpse. From the amount of blood present and its concentration around the neck of the corpse, our initial take on the crime scene was that the woman was killed where she lay by several shotgun blasts to the head. Based on its condition, we estimated the body had only been in situ for ten hours at the most. We believed there was probably more than one perpetrator involved because the woman was not bound, and had not been bound. Only an exceptionally powerful individual would be able to subdue and control an uncooperative victim while manipulating a shotgun all by themselves. That scenario seemed far-fetched for the crime scene.
  
  We quickly came to regard the profanity and disrobement as poor false staging of the crime scene - unconvincing attempts by the killers to lead us into thinking the motive for the crime was sexual or sadistic in nature. The overkill used on the victim suggested the killers were inexperienced, and simply wanted to be sure the victim was dead. While destruction of the head can imply a personal motivation, it can also be carried out in order to make identification of the victim more difficult. In this case, fingerprinting the corpse led to a quick identification, and in retrospect we believe that the killers must have known the victim would be readily identified.
  
  As you now know, the murdered woman was twenty-seven-year-old Francine Cragne. She was a Vermont native with a criminal record, major involvement in underground occult culture and a colorful history.
  
  Miss Cragne was a member of the wealthy Cragne family of Backwater. Cragnes have been in trouble with the law ever since law existed in this state. Members of the family have been implicated in a dozen murders and disappearances during this century alone (see supplementary report A) and the Cragnes continue to be regarded as outsiders by the Backwater community. Various Cragne family members have been placed under surveillance by Vermont State Police over time in relation to criminal activity in Vermont's occult communities. In spite of decades of thorough police work, no Cragne has ever been charged with more than a misdemeanor. As a result of this historical anomaly, I believe a cultural problem has developed within Vermont law enforcement such that the lower ranks consider it a waste of time to work crimes involving the Cragne family.
  
  Regarding Miss Cragne's murder, we've been working our long list of suspects and we currently have seven members of the Maximas temple under surveillance. (See supplementary Maximas Surveillance Report for details of our progress.)
  
  Regarding Miss Cragne's activities while she was alive, we now have reason to believe she may have been involved in some or all of the following unexplained disappearances and deaths:
  
  David Corey - Missing (Vermont)
  Brace Cragne - Missing (Vermont)
  Arthur Griswold - Deceased (Maine)
  Olive Hobart - Missing (New Hampshire)
  Victor Kesick - Missing (Ohio)
  Abril Navarro - Missing (Vermont)
  Ida Rodriguez - Deceased (Pennsylvania)
  
  We are now pooling our investigative resources with the FBI.
  
  Commander Keith Browne, Jr.
  Vermont State Police
  
  > examine the coffee
  The swirls in your cup form a blank, mirrored surface. Lack of a symbolic image means that you have accomplished everything you must in your current environment and should move on to find new challenges in order to grow as a person.
  
  A faint smell of mildew emanates from it.
  
  > look at the coffee
  The clouds in your cup form no discernible pattern. Lack of a symbolic image means that you have accomplished everything you must in your current environment and should move on to find new challenges in order to grow as a person.
  
  A faint smell of mildew emanates from it.
  
  > go to the west
  Rec Room (Zack Johnson)
  
  > break the cabinet
  No way. What if one of the board games uses broken glass as its playing pieces? You'd never know which piece of glass went where.
  
  > Go south
  A long and narrow room, with a satin wallcovering in rich, patterned green above the creamy wainscot paneling. The room is overcrowded with paintings and furniture. There are doors at either end of the gallery, leading north and west.
  
  It's a godawful mess in here and it's entirely your fault. It looks like you've cleared the path through the room, and there may be nothing left to do but enjoy the paintings.
  
  You can see a photograph here.
  
  > examine the photograph
  A rather abstract photograph in black and white. You're not sure what it represents. Perhaps a line drawing of a hand with an eye in the center?
  
  > go west
  Foyer (Greg Frost)
  Standing in the narrow entry hall is like being at the mouth of a cave. The only light comes in through tall windows on either side of the door and a half-round window above. All of the furniture has been removed from the foyer, leaving tracks in the heavy dust.
  
  That's odd. When you first entered the house it was morning, but judging by the light coming through the windows it's already afternoon. Hallways lead west and east into other parts of the house. A doorway leads north; the front door is to the south.
  
  > Go north
  Landing at the Bottom of Stairs (Mark Sample)
  This is a dark alcove with a narrow stairway rising into the gloom upstairs. The landing feels unwanted, neglected, as if its sole purpose were to get you somewhere else more important. You know that feeling well. You touch your wedding ring in an offhand way.
  
  Shadows lurch over a doorway to the south. Opposite those shadows lies another doorway, in even darker shadows. What little light there is seeps in from a small elliptical window high on the wall. A ramshackle bookshelf squats under the window like a sunken chest on a murky seafloor.
  
  > About you
  In the darkness all you really see is a shadowy outline. The effect is so creepy you're almost afraid to look again.
  
  > look at the coffee
  The swirls in your cup form a sturdy oak. Botanical images mean that while there is much left to accomplish in the present situation, your immediate environment sustains you, and you have everything that you need.
  
  A faint smell of mildew emanates from it.
  
  > Inventory
  You are carrying:
  a police report ("Francine Cragne")
  a piece of chalk
  a pair of stone earplugs (being worn)
  a black box (open but empty)
  a note from a seesaw
  a shard
  a broken silver amulet
  a teapot
  a tiny leather journal
  Daniel Baker's note
  an old paperback book
  an old newspaper (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a metal flask (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a half-full styrofoam coffee cup (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a familiar gold wristwatch (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a glass jar containing an insect
  a pull-string doll (smelling faintly of mildew)
  The Modern Girl's Divination Handbook -- Volume Three
  a postcard of Big Ben (smelling faintly of mildew)
  the diary of Phyllis Cragne (smelling faintly of mildew)
  The Dollmaker's Journal (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a repaired page (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a wad of cash
  an antique locket (smelling faintly of mildew) (closed)
  a moldy, waterlogged journal (smelling faintly of mildew)
  Twin Hearts Between the Planes
  a trolley schedule (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a backpack features guide
  a grimy rock (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a long hooked pole (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a soggy tome (smelling faintly of mildew)
  an employee ID card (smelling faintly of mildew)
  some yellowed newspapers (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a rusty piece of metal
  Tolerating An Asinine God (smelling faintly of mildew)
  loose bricks (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a black business card (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a trophy for a dog race (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a rusty flathead screwdriver
  a pair of garden shears (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a gallon jug of white vinegar (smelling faintly of mildew)
  some mildewed leather gloves
  a key from an urn
  a bronze urn (closed)
  a copper urn (smelling faintly of mildew) (closed)
  a spray bottle that used to contain fungicide
  a waterproof flashlight (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a pamphlet of home listings (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a mallet (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a gold jacket (being worn)
  a filthy rug
  a hovering spark (haunting you) (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a giant milkweed leaf (being worn as a mask)
  a Jansport backpack (being worn and open)
  a hidden pocket (open but empty)
  a key pocket (closed)
  a book pocket (open but empty)
  a side pocket (closed)
  a trash pocket (closed)
  a trolley pass (being worn)
  
  > examine the bookshelf
  The bookshelf might once have been the centerpiece of the landing but now it's tired and battered, leaning unsteadily to the right. The dark wood is heavily burled, triggering a dim recollection in the back of your mind. A few picture frames rest on top.
  
  > look at the frames
  A grey mold blossoms across all the frames. Funny, you never saw mold growing on metal before. The photographs are torn out of every frame. Only the ragged edge of each photo remains, jagged white teeth encircling a vacant center.
  
  > examine the Wood
  The wood is cruelly knotted. You inexplicably recall an episode of This Old House when Bob Vila explained that the burls so
  prized in Victorian furniture were often the result of horrible fungal infections.
  
  You touch your wedding ring in an offhand way.
  
  > examine the ring
  (the Your wedding band)
  You remember the day you swore to be Peter's, forever. You look down at the gold band and study its intricate woven inlay that almost looks like--No, that can't be.
  
  > examine the inlay
  Maybe it's the dim thanatopic light writhing through the elliptical window overhead, but something seems different about the ring. You feel like you're looking at its woven pattern for the first time. It reminds of you of chains, gates. Cages.
  
  > remove the ring
  (the Your wedding band)
  Strange, the wedding band usually slides right off, but something about this house seems to have tightened the ring around your finger. Constricting, that's the word that comes to mind.
  
  > pull the string
  The doll intones: "Avoid the small elliptical window! Something small represents secret ability!"
  
  > look at the window
  A vague recollection of This Old House stirs in your mind. A
  cameo window, you think it's called. Warped wooden muntins crisscross the horizontal ellipse, reminding you of sties on an infected eye. The glass is filthy, hazy. It's not a window so much as a cheerless smear looking out to grounds of the Cragne Manor beyond.
  
  You stand on your tippy toes, but you can't quite see through the window from here.
  
  > jump
  The floorboards moan, and a hollow thud vibrates up your spine.
  
  > climb the bookshelf
  You slowly step onto the bookshelf. It creaks. It strains. But it appears to hold your weight.
  
  For now.
  
  A sudden gust of wind batters the house. The eerie silence that follows is defined as much by what's there as by what's not.
  
  Landing at the Bottom of Stairs (Mark Sample) (on the
  bookshelf)
  You're standing on the ramshackle bookshelf. What little light there is seeps in from a small elliptical window that's now eye-level.
  
  > look at the window
  Panes of glass streaked with grime obscure most of the view. You catch a glimpse of movement in the shadows outside. Is it the white pines, so tall they resemble a fleet of square riggers bemasted with gigantic fascicles of needles? Or is it something else in the shadows? Whatever it is, it's big.
  
  > look through the window
  You thought you saw something through the window, but now you're not so sure. The towering trees sway in the wind, but there's nothing there.
  
  > examine the pines
  Towering white pines crowd the grounds of Cragne Manor. The woods are dark, inpenetrable. You think someone should make a horror movie about kids lost in the woods. Even with no monsters, it would be scary enough.
  
  > examine the bookshelf
  The bookshelf might once have been the centerpiece of the landing but now it's tired and battered, leaning unsteadily to the right. A few picture frames rest on top.
  
  > stand
  You shift your weight to step down from the bookshelf. A sharp
  crack breaks the silence of the alcove. The bookshelf
  collapses and you scramble away, slamming onto the old wooden floor.
  
  bones. A thick, putrid effluvium wafts up from the floor.
  
  > examine the shelf
  A heap of gnarled wood lies on the floor. It looks like your fall has broken through the rotten floorboards underneath the old shelf, revealing a small alcove. The smell of ancient sewage emanates from the alcove.
  
  > examine the alcove
  The hole in the floorboards is a moldering, rotting place. There's something here. A thing.
  
  > look at the thing
  In the gloaming of the landing you can't see clearly into the foul hole. You're afraid you'll have to pick up the thing to see what it is.
  
  > get it
  You gasp when you touch the slippery, oozing thing. In your hand is a gelatinous piece of severed tentacle.
  
  You think there might be something else in the alcove.
  
  > Continue
  You already have that.
  
  > search the alcove
  The hole in floorboards is a moldering rotting place. Now that you've pulled out the loathsome tentacle you see a thin leather volume lying in the hole.
  
  > get Book
  (a thin leather volume)
  The book is damp and clammy but you pick it up. It's like shaking hands with a cadaver.
  
  > look at the thin Volume
  The title of the thin volume appears in distinctive heavy gothic lettering. It's called De Zeven Testamenten van de Krijsende
  Zeeworm. There's a--what's it called, the snake eating its own tail?--etched onto the cover. The book is bound in a wrinkled leathery material. You can't quite place the feel of the material.
  
  The back of the ancient book is defaced with a sticker bearing some sort of insignia that makes it clear the book belongs to the Backwater public library. The insignia looks vaguely Masonic. Two sallow crescent moons stand guard on either side of an icy, watchful eye. And the eye gazes down upon an open book.
  
  > read Book
  Which do you mean, De Zeven Testamenten van de Krijsende
  Zeeworm, the tiny leather journal, the old paperback book
  (smelling faintly of mildew), the old newspaper (smelling faintly of mildew), The Modern Girl's Divination Handbook -- Volume Three, the postcard of Big Ben (smelling faintly of mildew), the diary of Phyllis Cragne (smelling faintly of mildew), The Dollmaker's Journal
  (smelling faintly of mildew), the moldy, waterlogged journal (smelling faintly of mildew), Twin Hearts Between the Planes, the soggy tome (smelling faintly of mildew) or Tolerating An Asinine God (smelling faintly of mildew)?
  
  > read the Volume
  Which do you mean, De Zeven Testamenten van de Krijsende
  Zeeworm or The Modern Girl's Divination Handbook -- Volume Three?
  
  > read thin Volume
  You crack open the thin volume--quite literally. The leather binding cracks as you open the book. It must be ancient. You can't imagine why a public library would have such a book in circulation. Even more incomprehensible is why the book was hidden under the floorboards. Afraid to break the binding more, you close the book without reading it.
  
  As you finish reading the passage, the spark moves through the book with an eerie hum, leaving frost behind on the library insignia.
  
  > search the alcove
  The hole in floorboards is a moldering rotting place.
  
  > examine the coffee
  The clouds in your cup form a stochastic pattern resembling television static. Lack of a symbolic image means that you have accomplished everything you must in your current environment and should move on to find new challenges in order to grow as a person.
  
  A faint smell of mildew emanates from it.
  
  > look at the tentacle
  Where on earth did this come from? About a foot long, the membranous tentacle tapers to a horrific curling point. It's a dim glowing green, the color of a dying glow stick. It reeks of something ancient. Your mouth unaccountably begins to water.
  
  The tentacle is still warm.
  
  > Lick tentacle
  With some primeval impulse you cannot fathom, you decide to taste the awful raw tentacle. You bite down, imagining the tentacle is an exquisite ceviche.
  
  It tastes like...
  
  Power.
  
  The original, cosmic power.
  
  You feel the tentacle's warmth spreading through your body. And suddenly it's a torrent of thick, clotted blood roiling through your veins.
  
  And your eyes. Oh, your eyes. They see everything. Through every layer of reality you see, through all of them. As if every dimension of space and time turned transparent. A yawning, moorless chasm lies beyond. And finally, you see, you sense--you know--just what
  it means to be a god.
  
  And then your mind, your consciousness, your soul, whatever you call it, stretches inside out and covers you whole and thus everted you vanish into the maw of nothingness.
  
  You are more than dead. You are no more.