text: > touch clown
  The clown reaches out and takes your hand, the merry-go-round's tinkly music swells, and you're spun out of the upstairs bedroom into that other place.
  
  Vague many-colored blobs of light float gently around you on all sides, and there are no shadows here. It's like being trapped inside a great big lava lamp, except that you can hear an off-key brass band oom-pahing not far away. The painted clown from the abandoned nursery, now no longer painted but quite real, is standing in front of you, gazing down at you with either pity or wry amusement (it's hard to tell which).
  
  > give the mat to clown
  "Hello again," you venture.
  
  "Hello again yourself," the clown replies. "I was wondering if you'd come back."
  
  The clown giggles. "I might have a use for a thing like that," he declares. "Oh, yes, truly I might. I just can't think right at this moment what use it might be."
  
  > take the skeleton
  Taken.
  
  The skull sags sideways onto your shoulder, giving you a nasty start. On close inspection, you find that the skull is awfully close to dropping free of the backbone.
  
  > give the skeleton to the clown
  You gesture at the skeleton. "Do you think these bones are what you need?"
  
  The clown inspects the skeleton gravely. "I do believe they'll serve. Where did you - no, don't tell me. I don't want to know. Whoever these belonged to doesn't need them anymore, that's all that matters."
  
  He picks up the skeleton. First he clasps it to him, so that it looks as if he's planning to dance with it. (The music is still oom-pahing away in the background.)  But then he ... it's hard to say exactly what he does with the skeleton. It looks a bit like putting on a pair of pajamas, except sort of inside out. It's as if the pajamas were putting on the person, somehow. First he steps on the skeleton's feet, and somehow the feet are inside his, and then the legs, and then the rest. In a moment the skeleton is entirely gone.
  
  The clown jumps up in the air and clicks his heels together. "Oh, I feel wonderful! So much more solid! You've done it - you've brought me everything I need to be a real person. I never doubted you for a moment, you know. I knew you'd do it." The clown digs down into one of the capacious pockets in his baggy trousers, produces the gold coin, and solemnly hands it to you. "You see? I've kept my end of the bargain, haven't I? Spend it wisely, young lady. Now, if you'll forgive me, I really must be going. I've so much to see!
  
  "Perhaps we'll meet again someday," he adds. "I'd like that. I do hope you'll stay safe until then. The world - what little of it I've seen so far, which is very little indeed - seems quite full of dreadful dangers. I do hope you'll be very careful! Farewell, then."
  
  The clown bows to you, and then turns and walks away with a kind of proud, sauntering stride, the spangly tails of the coat swaying behind him. As he goes, the blobs of color swirling around you begin to dissolve. In a few moments you're back in the upstairs bedroom - and the wall where the clown was painted is blank!
  
  You rush to the window and look out. A figure is just ducking out of sight around the corner of the house - a figure with red hair and a coat that seems to shimmer in the sun. He turns and waves, and then he's gone.
  
  This room has been mostly stripped of furniture. The wood floor is bare, the window uncurtained. A bulky, old-fashioned cradle stands in the center of the room. A metal heating grate is built into the baseboard in the west wall, and there's a small square table in the northeast corner, on which stands an old-fashioned model merry-go-round.
  
  You see a straw mat here.
  
  The merry-go-round continues tinkling its wistful little tune.
  
  > look at the coin
  The gold coin is about the size of a silver dollar. It has a striding Goddess of Liberty on the front, and an eagle flying across a rising sun on the reverse. It's dated 1907.
  
  The merry-go-round continues tinkling its wistful little tune.
  
  > Go west
  You can't go that way. The only obvious exit leads north, back to the upstairs hall.
  
  The merry-go-round falls silent and the little horses stop moving.
  
  > go to the south
  (first opening the door)
  
  The furnishings in the bedroom are about what you'd expect - a rumpled bed whose sour odor permeates the room and a dresser with a scatter of stuff on top. There's a wide archway to the east and an imposing-looking door in the north wall. The square hatch by which you first entered the room is set into the east wall at the northeast corner.
  
  > Go east
  This narrow, windowless room is lit only by the daylight that spills through the open doorway to the west, which leads back to the bedroom. A narrow table stands against the north wall, and at the foot of the table, in the east wall, a metal grate is set in the baseboard.
  
  In the east wall, where you might ordinarily expect to see a door to another room, is a massive slab of stone, both broader and higher than a door. In the upper center of the slab is a circular carving.
  
  On the shallow table are a purple-eyed figurine and a curved dagger.
  
  As you're wondering what to do next, Beauregard Phelps rushes up to you and grips your arm so hard you cry out in pain. "So," he says. "We got ourselves a sneak thief. Luisa tells me you got into my room. Well, no harm done. But I reckon we'll have to put you away where you can't get in no more mischief between now and the time for the ritual."
  
  You try to protest that it's all a silly mistake, but he only laughs. Not letting his grip slacken for an instant, he drags you down to the cellar of the house and thrusts you into a big shipping trunk. The lid slams shut, and you're left curled up in a painful knot in total darkness.
  
  A long time passes - you're not sure how long. When you hear footsteps approaching, and voices, a flush of hope jolts through you. The trunk lid springs open and you're hauled out. You start to protest about your treatment, but then you see that Aunt Caroline is carrying the white dress, and your words freeze in your throat. Your aunt's mouth is set in a grim line.
  
  While the others watch, ignoring your shame, she and Honey Hartwell force you to take off your clothes and put on the white dress. Then the whole party, with you in the middle crying and trying to get away, marches out to the meadow where the block of stone is standing. "It's almost time now," Phelps says, his voice bubbling with an undercurrent of glee.
  
  As sunset arrives, there's a thickening in the air, a sense of a foul presence gathering. Shortly you can see it hovering above the stone block, a huge form that grows darker and more solid by the moment. The monster's fangs and claws are exactly like those on the little figurines, but far larger and more terrifying.
  
  The demon reaches toward you, its thick red tongue writhing out obscenely. Your aunt and a well-dressed man whose aftershave smells, nauseatingly, of mint force you down on your back on the stone block, and Beauregard Phelps stalks ponderously forward, raising his curved dagger high and bringing it down toward your breast in a swift slashing arc.
  
  > Wait
  Time passes...
  
  Luisa comes down the stairs, moving slowly and heavily. Not looking at you, she resumes her ironing.
  
  > ask Luisa about jessie
  Luisa snuffles and wipes her eyes. "I don't want to talk about that," she says hoarsely.
  
  > ask Luisa about doll
  "The doll in my room, you mean?" Luisa glares at you. "What do you been sneaking in my room for? Well, it don't matter. I don't got nothing anybody'd want to steal. That doll, it used to belong to the little girl I told you about, the one who lived here, Jessie. After she wasn't here no more, I took the doll upstairs so I could look at it sometimes and not have to go in the room with the clown."
  
  > put the teaspoon and candle in the sack
  teaspoon: Done.
  fat white candle: Done.
  
  > ask Luisa about the doll
  As you start to speak, Luisa scowls at you irritably. "Why don't you go outside and play?"
  
  "The doll in my room, you mean?" Luisa glares at you. "What do you been sneaking in my room for? Well, it don't matter. I don't got nothing anybody'd want to steal. That doll, it used to belong to the little girl I told you about, the one who lived here, Jessie. After she wasn't here no more, I took the doll upstairs so I could look at it sometimes and not have to go in the room with the clown."
  
  > go east
  This narrow, windowless room is lit only by the daylight that spills through the open doorway to the west, which leads back to the bedroom. A narrow table stands against the north wall, and at the foot of the table, in the east wall, a metal grate is set in the baseboard.
  
  In the east wall, where you might ordinarily expect to see a door to another room, is a massive slab of stone, both broader and higher than a door. In the upper center of the slab is a circular carving.
  
  You see a straw mat (on which is a skeleton) here. On the shallow table are a purple-eyed figurine and a curved dagger.
  
  > take the figurine with the tongs
  As you reach toward the figurine, the dagger rises into the air, guided by no hand that you can see, and slashes at your face! You back away quickly.
  
  > put the kettle on the table
  (first taking the tea kettle)
  The tea kettle is too large for the table.
  
  > put the kettle in sink
  The tea kettle is too large for the sink.
  
  > take the kettle
  You are already carrying the tea kettle.
  
  > turn on the stove
  You switch on a burner, and shortly the burner begins to glow with heat.
  
  > Light candle
  What do you want to light it with?
  
  > put the candle on the stove
  Putting things on the stove while it's switched on would be dangerous.
  
  > turn off stove
  You switch off the electric burner.
  
  > turn on the stove
  Turning on the stove while there are things on it other than the kettle could be dangerous.
  
  > ask Aunt about glasses
  "We can talk about that later," Aunt Caroline says firmly.
  
  > take the glasses
  You glance at the glasses and instantly dismiss them as unimportant.
  
  > go to the west
  The kitchen is large and not especially neat. The appliances are all ancient, their surfaces dented and chipped. The refrigerator stands against one wall, the stove against another, and there's a cupboard above the sink. Against an inner wall stands a small square table, with a wooden chair beside it. An exterior door is to the south, interior doorways to the east and north.
  
  You see a tea kettle here. The cupboard contains a juice glass.
  
  > go northwest
  Tyrone shrugs and goes back to work on the van.
  
  The gravel driveway runs behind the big house, which looms over you to the east. At the north end the driveway passes through a high hedge, and at the south it opens out into an area in front of a shack, where a dusty van is parked. A pair of low doors angles out from the foundation of the house at this spot.
  
  You see a dead possum here.
  
  > ask the boys about the gap
  "Hello again," you say, trying to sound cheerful. "I'm back."
  
  "Was she gone?" the smaller boy says. "I din't notice."
  
  The larger boy sticks a finger in his ear and twirls it around, wrinkling his face in concentration. "You hear a skeeter?" he says.
  "I thought I heard some buzzin'."
  
  > ask the boys about the brambles
  "What you askin' us for?" the smaller boy says. "Bet you know all the answers already."
  
  The boys make loud kissing noises at you.
  
  > ask the boys about the road
  The boys both shrug. "Don't mean nothin' to us," one of them says.
  
  The boys edge toward you casually.
  
  > Inventory
  You are carrying a burlap sack (which contains a pill bottle, some faded photographs, a flashlight, a croquet hoop, a partially crumbled piece of burnt toast, a bad fuse, a sketchbook, a stone bracelet, a gold locket, an old shovel, an indecipherable map, a poker, the key to Cabin One, a screwdriver, a brown envelope, some fire tongs, and a fat white candle) and a teaspoon. You're wearing your clothes.
  
  > Go east
  Knowing the boys are likely to make fun of anything you say, you just turn and walk away without saying goodbye. As you walk away, you hear the boys snickering about something.
  
  The narrow, potholed ribbon of blacktop runs east and west between thorny thickets to the north and south. A narrow gap in the shrubbery to the south might be wide enough for you to squeeze through.
  
  > ask Tyrone about the oil
  You mention the squeaky screen door to Tyrone. "Can't you oil it or something, it's driving me crazy."
  
  He only shrugs. "Gotta get the van runnin' right now. I'll get to it later. Maybe tomorrow, maybe next week. You don't want it makin' a racket, just don't go in or out through there."
  
  > ask Tyrone about the batteries
  You ask Tyrone whether he might know where there are some fresh batteries for the flashlight. He presses his lips together, looking exasperated - but at himself, not at you. "I was supposed to pick some up, you know, yesterday when I was in town, but I plumb forgot. Sorry, honey."
  
  > examine the blood
  The shallow pool of blood in the middle of the floor is spattered and smeared, as if something has been dragged through it. Flies are circling above it.
  
  > take it
  Picking up a pool of blood would be impractical, pointless, and really creepy too.
  
  > touch the blood
  Getting blood on your fingers, especially the blood of someone you just met ... what a dreadfully repulsive thought!
  
  > tell David about the clown
  A little diffidently - you're pretty sure he'll think you're crazy - you tell David that you had a sort of hallucination when you were upstairs in the house, a vision in which you were dancing and talking with a clown that had been painted on the wall.
  
  David listens solemnly. "Not even the wickedest force can wholly banish the good," he says.
  
  > tell David about Lydia
  You consider telling David how you restored Lydia to life - but could he possibly believe the story? You're not sure you believe it yourself, and you saw it with your own eyes.
  
  > examine the locket
  The gold locket is an old-fashioned oval no bigger than the last joint of your little finger. It's suspended from a delicate gold chain. Inside the locket is a tiny snapshot of a woman's face.
  
  > tell David about the statue
  "The figurines ... ah, yes. Nasty little things, aren't they?" David frowns at his knees. He looks so sad you want to hug him, but you don't.
  
  "They have some sort of magical linkage," he says, "to the actual demon to whom the sacrifice is to be made. They make their way out into the world somehow - I have no idea how, but I do believe they're not quite as inert as they may appear - and attach themselves to certain individuals who are predisposed to want what they have to offer.
  
  "Once the attachment is formed, no one else can touch the figurine. It's quite impossible."
  
  > Go north
  You can't go that way. Obvious exits lead south; east; and west, back to the south end of the croquet court.