text: [Themes: Horror, Lovecraftian, research, strong NPCs, violence, female protagonist, child death, child abuse]
  
  > Go downwards
  You pass through the gate and down the stone steps, which curve northwest as they lead down to the edge of the river.
  
  The ponderous stones of Whateley Bridge arch overhead, casting this little concrete ledge into deep shadow. At your feet, the dark waters lap quietly against the stones with a hollow, subterranean sound. Stone steps to the southeast lead back up to street level.
  
  A small metal door, blotchy with rust, is set into the south bank of the river, underneath the bridge.
  
  > fill the flask
  What do you want to fill the flask with?
  
  > Water
  You dip the flask into the Miskaton, collecting a small quantity of river water.
  
  > give the flask to man
  His eyes burning with greed, the old man snatches the flask from your hand 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.
  
  > pour the water
  The small quantity of river water spills out over the ground, where it quickly trickles away.
  
  > ask the man about the whiskey
  The bum perks up. "More whiskey?" he asks greedily.
  
  > Go east
  As the lane winds along from east to west, it narrows until the steep, jagged rooftops on either side of the street practically touch each other. To the south, a side street leads across Whateley Bridge toward the center of town, and a twisting lane leads up a hill to the northwest. A short flight of steps to the north leads down to the local watering hole.
  
  The cold wind blows harder, tugging at the hem of your trenchcoat.
  
  > go north
  A dank, drafty old drinking hole lit by flickering, oil-burning lanterns. Smoke collects in greasy pools among the rafters, and shadows crowd thick around. The bar runs the length of the room to your right, while to the south a low doorway opens onto the street.
  
  Mill workers and fishermen occupy a few of the tables, drinking beer or puffing grimly at long-stemmed pipes. Each is wrapped in his solitude, soaking up the general miasma of dreary fatalism.
  
  > go east
  The exit is to the south.
  
  > Examine bar
  A dark and dour expanse of wood, pitted and scarred and stained with the rings from over a hundred years' worth of slopping beer mugs.
  
  > look behind the bar
  Not a bartender in sight.
  
  > examine the people
  The patrons of this place are taciturn and grim. No one speaks. No one looks anyone in the eye. No one, in fact, even looks up from his beer. A heavy aura of resignation -- and, it almost seems, dread -- hangs palpably over the whole crowd.
  
  > ask the people about the bum
  No one answers you, or even looks your way.
  
  > ask the people about Michael
  Suddenly, although you wouldn't have thought it possible, the pub becomes even more icily silent. Even the lantern flames seem to pause their flickering. The nearest of the locals turns toward you, squinting through eyes like black glass embedded in his ancient leathery skin. His lips barely seem to move beneath his salt-encrusted beard.
  
  "Some things best left alone by outsiders, ma'am," he rasps. "Some things best left alone by decent folk altogether."
  
  Back in one of the darker corners, someone spits deliberately on the floor.
  
  And then all eyes are back on their beer. It's as if you didn't exist at all.
  
  > examine the ring
  (the wedding ring)
  Staring at your wedding ring like that tends to make you sentimental.
  
  > look at the iron ring
  It's just an ordinary-looking iron ring.
  
  > pull iron ring
  The iron ring is high out of your reach.
  
  > examine the hieroglyphs
  They are not Egyptian, which is what you first assumed from the general shape and design of the obelisk. In fact, though you're no archaeologist, these carvings don't look like any sort of ancient writing you've ever seen. The characters, which must have been carved very deeply in order to survive this much erosion, twist and squirm in disturbing ways, flowing into and through each other and almost seeming to shift slightly as you try to follow their lines. The effect is deeply unsettling, and you have to suppress an urge to take a step or two back away from the monument.
  
  > get the iron ring with the umbrella
  (first taking the umbrella)
  (slipping the flashlight into the pocket of your trenchcoat to get a hand free)
  The iron ring is high out of your reach.
  
  > climb the obelisk
  The sides of the obelisk are much too steep and smooth to climb.
  
  > knock on it
  No one answers.
  
  > Go west
  The rooftops above you lean so close together as to nearly block out the sky altogether, making this a particularly dark and unpleasant section of the city. The street leads away to the east, and a shadowy driveway leads through a high brick wall to the south.
  
  > go to the south
  The grim, white-washed edifice of Danvers Asylum bounds this tiny, shadowed courtyard to the south, its narrow, barred windows staring blankly down at you like ranks of shriveled, empty eye sockets. You can escape through a narrow gateway in the high, brick wall to the north.
  
  > Go south
  Ugly, mint-green tiles and walls of whitewashed cinderblock comprise the decor of this inhospitable waiting room. A hard little sofa upholstered in avocado vinyl and a feebly struggling potted palm are provided for the comfort of visitors, although you get the feeling that few inmates of this institution are fortunate enough to have visitors. A metal gate bars entrance to a southern passageway, which you assume leads to the inmates' section. The exit lies north.
  
  An orderly sits by the gate, leisurely perusing a pornographic magazine.
  
  A large key dangles from the orderly's belt.
  
  > look at the orderly
  The pockmarked and overweight orderly is absorbed in his magazine, which is just as well, since it's kept him from turning his leering attentions to you. He occasionally pauses to tweak a swollen blackhead on the back of his neck, or to mutter some crass observation about one of the women in his magazine.
  
  There's a name tag pinned to his expansive chest.
  
  > examine the sofa
  It is the apotheosis of utilitarian decor, little more than a horizontal slab with some vertical slabs around the sides to keep people from falling off. And it is avocado.
  
  > examine tag
  It reads: "CHUCK".
  
  > ask Chuck about the Asylum
  "Listen, I just work here, lady."
  
  > ask Chuck about the rebis
  The orderly shrugs. "Wouldn't know," he mutters.
  
  > examine the palm
  (the torn journal)
  It's a slim little book, no bigger than your hand, bound in imitation leather. The mice really have been at it; most of the pages have been chewed away.
  
  > ask him about Edward
  The orderly squints at you. "Who? -- Oh, wait! You mean the guy, ventilated his whole goddamn family early this year. Yeah, I remember him. What a nutball. We put him in a rubber room, he lasted two weeks. Bashed his fuckin' brains in on the little observation window. Reinforced glass, took him right out." The orderly scratches his head. "Christ, I gotta get around to cleaning that mess up one of these days." Then with a heavy sigh, he returns to his magazine.
  
  > get the potted palm
  That's hardly portable.
  
  > examine the large key
  Presumably, it opens the barred gates, providing access into (or out of) the asylum.
  
  > Go south
  (opening the barred gate first)
  The orderly laughs at your attempts. "Nice try, lady, but you're never gettin' in there without this," he says, patting the key on his belt.
  
  > take the large key
  The orderly slaps your hand away. "Nice try, lady, " he sneers, "but I got eyes in the back of my head; I'm like a fuckin' hawk."
  
  "... ooh, yeah," whispers the orderly, ogling his magazine.
  
  > take the large key
  The orderly slaps your hand away. "Nice try, lady, " he sneers, "but I got eyes in the back of my head; I'm like a fuckin' hawk."
  
  > hit the CHUCK with the broom
  Much as you'd like to, it probably wouldn't be wise in the long run.
  
  The orderly honks loudly into a handkerchief, pauses to take a quick peek at the goods, then stuffs the rag back into his pocket.