text: [Themes: Horror, creepypasta, horror, female protagonist, Stalker]
  
  > look around
  The kitchen is almost pitch black. You feel your way around. The ceiling seems lower.
  
  > touch the ceiling
  The ceiling is covered with the same cracked plaster as the walls.
  
  > Go southeast
  You can't see your own hands. You can feel the presence of the big couch but everything else is lost in the darkness.
  
  > go to the north-east
  You're disoriented in the total darkness. You can guess roughly
  where the bed and the table are, but you're not sure.
  
  The ringing is driving you crazy. You stumble through the dark before your hands find the phone. You snatch up the receiver.
  
  "What the fuck do you want?" you growl. There's silence for a moment.
  
  "That's not very nice language sweetie. I don't want to have to punish you more." You don't reply. "Is my pretty sweetie mad at me? Well don't you worry, I'll take care of that. You just stay right there." click. You drop the receiver.
  
  > call 911
  You pick up the receiver and punch 9, then 1. . . Then you pause. Nothing's really happened, why are you so panicky? You take a deep breath and hang up the phone.
  
  > call 911
  You dial 911 and wait. Ring. Ring.
  
  "Hello, 911, is this an emergency?"
  
  "Um. Yes, kinda. I've had some unusual phone calls--"
  
  "Let me patch you through to the police, and may I remind you that this number is for emergencies only." There's a sharp click, a pause, and then faint jazz and a voice telling you you're on hold. You slam down the receiver.
  
  > call 911
  You dial 911 and wait. Ring. Ring.
  
  "Hello, 911, is this an emergency?"
  
  "Um. Yes, kinda. I've had some unusual phone calls--"
  
  "Let me patch you through to the police, and may I remind you that this number is for emergencies only." There's a sharp click, a pause, and then faint jazz and a voice telling you you're on hold. You slam down the receiver.
  
  From the darkness of the living room you hear noises. Rattling, at the door. Two sharp clicks. A loud pop. The door creaking open.
  
  > Inventory
  You have a unlit candle, some clothes, a single pencil, a Polaroid picture, and a knife.
  
  Someone's in the apartment, moving around in the darkness of the living room. "Look, I made it sweetie. . ."
  
  You take a step back. Something wriggles and crunches beneath your foot.
  
  > go to the southwest
  You can't see your own hands. You can feel the presence of the big couch but everything else is lost in the darkness.
  
  Someone is there. The beam of a flashlight shines in your face and you're blinded, stars flickering around you in the darkness. "Oh, you look good enough to. . ." The figure moves towards you. Hands on your mouth and waist. Wet cloth with something chemical and sickening.
  
  Darkness. Men's voices. Wet.
  
  It's light. The rain has stopped. You're on the couch. The apartment's quiet and cold. You seem all right. You shiver.
  
  > check your inventory
  You have some clothes.
  
  The cardboard box from your closet is sitting in front of the open door. A dark stain is seeping out from the black cardboard onto the carpet. You move towards it shaky, bruised. There are things lying among your clothes in the box. A pair of glasses. A finger. A Zip-Loc bag of something viscous. A piece of scalp. Somehow you recognize it. Harvey finally made it home.
  
  You may restore a saved game, start over, or quit.
  
  > go to the west
  You think about the Polaroid. There is someone out there. Not in the apartment, there wouldn't be anyplace to hide. But if you left, even to get to the other apartments in the building, you'd have to go out alone, down the unlit outside hall, and then around the hole length of the building in the dark and rain. Harvey has to be almost home.
  
  > Y.
  You're all alone tonight.
  
  Of course, you've gotten used to that since you moved in with Harvey. He works the late shift at the delicatessen every Tuesday and Thursday. He'll be back before too long. That man works so hard.
  
  You slip into your toasty flannel pajamas because there's a cold winter rain coming down outside and the heat in Harvey's sub-basement apartment really needs looking at. You settle down into the oversized couch in the living room and snap on the TV. Tonight you're just going to relax.
  
  all alone.
  by ian finley
  
  The living room is small; the big couch takes up almost all the floorspace. Not that you're complaining. It's the best Harvey can afford right now and until your drawings really start to sell you aren't contributing much financially. Some of your sketches hang on the walls above the TV and the squat cinder-block-and-boards bookshelf. Through a wide arch in the northwest corner you can see most of the kitchen and to the northeast is the bedroom. The door to the cement-floored outside hall is to the west.
  
  > Go northwest
  You're not going anywhere until you get out of the couch.
  
  You hear the news starting on the TV.
  
  Rain taps on the little square windows.
  
  > get up
  Okay, you're no longer on the couch.
  
  The TV continues, "This is the fourth slaying of this kind to occur in the past three weeks. . . "
  
  > Go northeast
  The bedroom is really much too small for everything in it. It was
  ok when it was just Harvey's big waterbed and his dresser, but when you brought in your drafting desk with its lamps and everything, the room just got too crowded. You have to practically crawl over the desk to get to the closet to the east and the door to the bathroom to the west is almost as blocked. Piles of Harvey's socks and clothes cover the floor. He's been used to being a bachelor for so long. You can hear the TV to the southwest over the pouring rain.
  
  The TV continues, ". . .and police are focusing as much on quelling the growing panic in the city as on catching the killer. "
  
  > Go northwest
  The kitchen is deep and narrow, with sink and stove and refrigerator jutting out at awkward angles. It's not that the place is really dirty, but your mother wouldn't be able to stand it. The tile counters are washed-out yellow, slightly grimy, and the sink is more than half filled with this week's dishes. You can see about half the living room through the arch to the southeast, light from the TV flickering on the far wall.
  
  The TV continues, ". . .and police are focusing as much on quelling the growing panic in the city as on catching the killer. "
  
  > Search sink
  You find nothing of interest.
  
  The TV continues, "We have been asked not to broadcast the images we have of the crime scene, but the killer has left his usual macabre calling cards."
  
  > examine the oven
  The oven is nothing special, just a big metal box stuck next to the wall.
  
  The TV continues, "The young woman's internal organs had been removed, and several thin strips of skin shaved from the body."
  
  The storm is gathering force outside.
  
  > examine the stove
  The oven is nothing special, just a big metal box stuck next to the wall.
  
  The TV continues, "While not wishing to encourage the unreasonable fear spreading through the city, the police do encourage women living alone to keep all curtains closed and make sure their doors are securely locked."
  
  > open the oven
  There's no reason to do that.
  
  The TV continues, "In a related story, Mayor Anderson has significantly increased active police presence on the streets and has proposed another raise in pay."
  
  > examine the sink
  The stainless steel sink is practically brimming with unwashed dishes. You really need to get a dishwasher, but there'd be no room for it. Among all the dishes you see the shine of a large knife blade.
  
  The TV continues, "These raises come at a crucial time, as work related stress causes growing numbers of investigators resign every week."
  
  > take the knife
  The pick up the knife.
  
  For a moment the TV is blurred by loud static. Damn antennas.
  
  > go southeast
  The living room is small; the big couch takes up almost all the floorspace. Not that you're complaining. It's the best Harvey can afford right now and until your drawings really start to sell you aren't contributing much financially. Some of your sketches hang on the walls above the TV and the squat cinder-block-and-boards bookshelf. Through a wide arch in the northwest corner you can see most of the kitchen and to the northeast is the bedroom. The door to the cement-floored outside hall is to the west.
  
  The static clears and picks up with the anchorman saying, ". . .continued threats of chemical warfare."
  
  > wash knife
  The knife looks a bit cleaner now.
  
  The TV continues, "In further world news--" and is cut short by low static.
  
  > go to the northeast
  The bedroom is really much too small for everything in it. It was
  ok when it was just Harvey's big waterbed and his dresser, but when you brought in your drafting desk with its lamps and everything, the room just got too crowded. You have to practically crawl over the desk to get to the closet to the east and the door to the bathroom to the west is almost as blocked. Piles of Harvey's socks and clothes crouch on the floor. He's been used to being a bachelor for so long. You can see the living room through the arch to the southwest.
  
  The television growls with hushed static.
  
  The phone is ringing, across the room under a pile of socks.
  
  > take all
  clothing: You slip quickly out of your pajamas and into some jeans and a shirt that are on the floor.
  
  The TV continues to hum.
  
  The phone.
  
  > Go northwest
  You can't go that way.
  
  The static on the TV gives out to total silence.
  
  > Go southwest
  The phone is ringing, it might be important.
  
  > close the blinds
  You unfold the blinds and cover the windows.
  
  The sound on the TV suddenly comes back in, loud.
  
  Annoyed by the ringing, you grab the receiver. "Hello?" No answer. You ask again and hear heavy breathing on the other end, panting. You stand there for a moment, trying to think of some response, something biting and clever, but you can't, and the harsh wheezing continues.
  You hang up the phone and stand there for a moment.
  
  Frustrated, you grab the receiver, but don't say anything. The man on the other end is whispering. You can't make out exactly what he's saying. It sounds like, "You're not thinking of going anywhere are you?" You don't reply. "Didn't want to go out in your pajamas did you?" You glance quickly towards the window. The blinds are down. What's going on? "I just wouldn't go outside, ok, sweetie?" You slam down the receiver.
  
  > Go southwest
  The living room is small, the couch takes up all the space. Some of your sketches hang on the walls above the TV and the cinder-block-and-boards bookshelf. You can see the kitchen to the northwest and the bedroom door to the northeast. The door to the outside hall is to the west.
  
  A hyperactive TV weatherman blurts out, "Well folks, tonight doesn't look too good."
  
  A fat cockroach scurries over your bare left foot. Without thinking you jerk away and smash it with the ball of your right foot and it crunches under your skin. You quickly wipe the guts off your sole onto the floor and shudder.
  
  > go west
  You reach out towards the door, then you think about the phone call. Even to get to the other apartments in the building you'd have to go out alone, down the unlit outside hall, and then around the whole length of the building in the dark and the rain. It would be safer just to stay locked in here. Harvey should already be on his way home.
  
  The TV continues, "This storm is gonna continue right up until tomorrow morning, and it is one monster of a storm."
  
  > Go west
  You reach out towards the door, then you think about the phone call. Even to get to the other apartments in the building you'd have to go out alone, down the unlit outside hall, and then around the whole length of the building in the dark and the rain. It would be safer just to stay locked in here. Harvey should already be on his way home.
  
  The TV continues, "Winds up to seventy-two miles per hour have been reported, and the rain just keeps coming down."
  
  > go to the west
  You reach out towards the door, then you think about the phone call. Even to get to the other apartments in the building you'd have to go out alone, down the unlit outside hall, and then around the whole length of the building in the dark and the rain. It would be safer just to stay locked in here. Harvey should already be on his way home.
  
  The TV continues, "It's like the end of the world out there."
  
  > call Harvey
  The phone is in the bedroom.
  
  There's a sudden clap of thunder outside and the wind starts picking up. The transmission on the TV starts to fade.
  
  > go to the northeast
  The bedroom is too small for everything in it. You have to
  practically crawl over the desk to get to the closet and the door to the bathroom is almost as blocked. Piles of Harvey's dirty clothes crouch on the floor.
  
  The sound on the TV fades in and out. You hear snatches of words and phrases.
  
  Lightning flashes brightly for a moment, lighting up the whole apartment. The thunder comes almost at once.
  
  > call Harvey
  You punch in Harvey's work number. Old man Luttfisk answers. You hate his voice. It sounds slimy.
  
  "Luttfisk's Delicatessen. We're closin' up here--"
  
  "Yes, Mr. Luttfisk, I know, I was just wondering if Harvey was there."
  
  "Harvey?"
  
  "Yes, Harvey, your assistant, if he's there--"
  
  "Oh he left a long time ago. Had to pick up supplies. Yeah. He left a long time ago. Good night." Click. Buzz. You hang up the phone.
  
  From the TV you hear, "Buy Fleischmann's. . .static, garble. . .
  it slices, it dices, it. . . static, garble. . . "
  
  > call Harvey
  You dial the delicatessen. Ring. Ring. Nothing. Ring. You keep waiting. Ring. Ring. You hang up.
  
  From the TV you hear, "In our last story. . .garble. . .Good-night from. . .static. . . "
  
  > get pencil
  You grab one of the pencils.
  
  From the TV you hear, "Stay in. . .static. . .if you need. . .static. . .to go out. . ." and then complete silence.
  
  > Go southwest
  The living room is small, the couch takes up all the space. Some of your sketches hang on the walls above the TV and the cinder-block-and-boards bookshelf. You can see the kitchen to the northwest and the bedroom door to the northeast. The door to the outside hall is to the west.
  
  > examine the bookshelf
  The homemade bookshelf is basically a pile of paperbacks and big anatomy textbooks barely supported by cement blocks and sagging boards. There is a little candle burning on top that just screams "fire hazard."
  
  > get the candle
  You pick up the candle.
  
  > look at the textbooks
  The five or so big books on human anatomy are a lot more interesting than Harvey's other selections. You've actually used them once or twice as references for your sketches.
  
  The sound on the TV jumps back in with raucous peals of laughter, some stupid sitcom or something.
  
  The storm is getting even worse, the rain drowning out any other sound.
  
  > read the anatomy
  You flip through one of the big books and find a set of transparencies. First the skeleton, then the veins over that, then the bright organs, then the muscles, and finally the skin.