text: > go downwards
  The floor is hard and cold beneath you, there's nowhere to go down.
  
  You cover your ears for a little while, just to drown out the noise. You need to move.
  
  > go north
  You don't know where you're going, but you have to keep moving, keep hoping you're growing and not reducing the distance between you and that sound. Next thing you know, you're hurtling down a slope, picking up speed. The only thing you can do is brace your arms over your head and hope.
  
  You tumble and you tumble and you tumble, until finally the floor levels out and you come to a stop. For a moment, you just stay lying on the floor, breathing hard. Maybe you've at least escaped whatever was coming after you?
  
  But the hope is brief - you can still hear that incessant, unfamiliar, noise, now somewhere above you.
  
  The floor here feels soft, like carpet. And, maybe it's your eyes playing desperate tricks on you, but you think you can see the faintest glow of light in front of you.
  
  You can still hear it, something, slowly, inevitably, moving towards you.
  
  > examine light
  The light is so faint... is it even there? You move closer to it, and you realise it's like the orange glow of a street lamp. Is this a window?
  
  There's got to be a way to make the noise go away... You've always known that bad things happen in the dark, it's like they're attracted to it.
  
  > open the window
  You're not sure what is is yet - but when you reach out, your hands come into contact with the soft fabric of curtains. You pull them open, and more of the orange light streams in. It's dim, but it's something.
  
  There's got to be a way to make the noise go away... You've always known that bad things happen in the dark, it's like they're attracted to it.
  
  > touch the floor
  That won't help make the darkness go away.
  
  There's got to be a way to make the noise go away... You've always known that bad things happen in the dark, it's like they're attracted to it.
  
  > examine the carpet
  It looks just like when you were a kid...
  
  There's got to be a way to make the noise go away... You've always known that bad things happen in the dark, it's like they're attracted to it.
  
  > examine the light
  The dim orange glow of a street lamp outside.
  
  There's got to be a way to make the noise go away... You've always known that bad things happen in the dark, it's like they're attracted to it.
  
  > enter the window
  You know it won't open far enough for you to fit through.
  
  There's got to be a way to make the noise go away... You've always known that bad things happen in the dark, it's like they're attracted to it.
  
  > turn on the light
  Of course! The light switch is here, by the strange doorway, just like it is in real life. You flick the switch, and the room is immediately bathed in familiar, yellow light. The eerie shadows the furniture was casting on the walls fade; and what's more, when you bring yourself to look at the doorway again, it's just your door, white and shut.
  
  You can still hear something, but you realise - it's just the sound of cars intermittently driving down the street outside. Your brain had been twisting their engine noise into something far more sinister.
  
  You're safe now, the nightmare is over. You feel yourself being taken back to reality...
  
  You used to have nightmares about the dark all the time. The day after a particularly bad one, Mr Cuddles had appeared on your bed, with a red ribbon round his neck, and your mum smiling next to him.
  
  After a few nights, the nightmares stopped, and as you grew older you realised - there was nothing scary about the dark, or about a lot of things. They were only scary if you let them scare you. And so, Mr Cuddles lost his purpose, though he never quite lost his place in your heart.
  
  (You have learned the lesson of CALMNESS. To remind yourself of
  this lesson, REMEMBER CALMNESS - this will allow you to apply this lesson to your next action. To check which lessons you have learned, REMEMBER LESSONS.)
  
  On the right side of the room is your bed - or rather, bedframe, since the mattress is gone. Next to the end where the pillow would have been, there's a little bedside table. A wooden wardrobe sits in the far left corner. Beside it, there's a low chest of drawers. There's a window on the wall opposite the door, looking out onto the street. The light switch is on the wall next to the door, whilst the wall above the bed is covered in old blu-tac stains.
  
  > look at the table
  There used to be a lamp on here, but now the only thing on it is a birthday card, looking cheerful and out of place in your otherwise lifeless bedroom. You pick it up.
  
  The front is innocent enough - flowers, balloons, a font almost as cheesy as Comic Sans. It's the inside that makes your stomach twist a little. The message is in your handwriting, because this card wasn't for you - it was for Maya. Her nineteenth birthday.
  
  You know that if you were to REMINISCE ON the card, you could take yourself right back to that day.
  
  > Inventory
  You are carrying:
  a birthday card
  a teddy bear
  a Physics report
  a green paper folder
  a comic drawing
  a bin bag
  
  > look at the bag
  Your mum must have left this for you to put things into.
  
  > examine the bear
  He's definitely seen better days; one of his eyes is hanging a little loose, and his fur is uneven and matted, thanks to the various beverages that have been spilled on him over the years. But still, the threaded smile on his little bear face is intact, and seeing him again after all this time makes you smile too.