text: [Themes: female protagonist, Lovecraft]
  
  > Describe the surroundings
  The girl's restroom by the chapel was Jessica's main respite while at school, being a good detour away the main facility in the school hallway. Often she was able to get several minutes to herself away from the other spazz-girls in her class. There was only one way
  out through the door back to the Chapel hallway.
  
  > Go outside
  Of course, the door banged open and Dawn Whitford peered around it, "Está ocupado, Meredith!" Dawn flapped the rest of the way in
  with a clipboard, "Jessica, I took the initiative to add your name to the Harvest Dance cleanup crew, since you more than likely aren't going to be attending with all the normal people." Meredith flitted to the mirror, and Thelma skulked in behind her, guarding the door like usual. "...That way, you can at least come in the last half hour and hear some of the music and see everyone's dresses."
  
  "Oh, you still haven't found someone to accompany you to the
  dance yet?" Meredith read her face and wrinkled her nose. "That's such a shame! Well, it's a good thing you'll be there at the end at least. I can't wait for you to see this luscious floor-length
  all-white chiffon number I found! Since it's senior year, I decided to throw caution to the wind and go sleeveless!"
  
  The other two girls went "oooooOOOOOOooo" on cue like
  third-graders witnessing people kiss in a movie.
  
  "I'll be there with my dancin' shoes on!" Meredith squealed, briefly performing the most geriatric Charleston step Jessica could imagine before turning gleefully to the mirror to make sure her hair was still, in fact, completely straight.
  
  "Speaking of footwear," Thelma approached twirling her braid, "check out the snazzy kicks on Jezebel here! Your shoes aren't going to  get you closer to heaven, honey!"
  
  "Red is Satan's favorite color," Dawn reminded. "And I don't have my ruler, but I'm quite sure the heel height on those don't fit the official school dress code."
  
  "Oh, nonsense," Meredith muttered into the mirror. "I think they're pretty. You know every little bit helps when you start at a disadvantage!"
  
  Thelma sauntered past, "Jus' remember: the higher you climb, the farther you fall."
  
  The shove wasn't hard, but it was deliberate, and Jessica was doing okay balancing but had no traction and her feet skidded out from under her as she flailed awkwardly. WHAM her tailbone contacted the tile and every limb went shockingly numb for a moment.
  
  > stand
  no voices in my head you don't control me stop laughing!
  
  > Wait
  stop arguing i cant think stop laughing!
  
  > wait for a while
  thats not what i want to do oh god oh god stop laughing!
  
  > wait
  stop laughing!
  
  > wait
  oh god oh god stop laughing!
  
  > Go outside
  The bland checkerboard-floored antechamber (though the nuns always called it the narthex) that connected the chapel to the main
  school hallway proudly displayed a decade's worth of framed photographs of historical Catholic figures and famous nuns, posters for school activities, and important mimeographed lists of extra-curricular activity rosters taped to the walls.
  
  Bellowed hosannas from choir rehearsal taking place behind the closed chapel doors to the west competed with the roar of the school
  hallway to the east.
  
  The ladder to the bell tower rose against the wall in its usual place. A sign mounted at face-height read "STAFF ONLY. NO STUDENTS!"
  
  > Go up
  Jessica didn't have any reason to climb to the bell tower. The Quasimodo story the seniors always told incoming underclassmen had been demonstrably proven false.
  
  > Go west
  Jessica had been banished from choir for two weeks for her "creative" scat-jazz interpretations of some of the warmup exercises. She probably didn't need to show her face in there for a while.
  
  > go east
  cafeteria and back west to the Chapel. The Gymnasium yawned its familiar oppressive woodsmell to the north below a paper banner
  in direct opposition to the school Library, which was an oasis of quiet solitude to the south.
  
  omigodohmygod...Brandon Cragne was leaning on the locker next
  to hers talking to his friend whatshisname...
  
  > TALK TO BRANDON
  
  Noooo! Hush up voices in my head!
  
  > talk to Brandon
  "Oh, hi, Brandon isn't it? I'm Jessica. Nice to meet you
  finally!" is what she wanted to say, but the words caught in her throat and wouldn't come out. She was going to do it. She was going to do something. She was going to walk right up to him--no, she was going to introduce herself--no, just walk by him like it's no big deal, just say "Oh, hi, Brandon" and toss her hair and--
  
  At that moment her balance on the high heels failed her, and she pitched forward right into Brandon Cragne who caught her and
  kept her from hitting the floor...his arms around her he smells
  like he didn't have time to shower after mowing the lawn this morning sharp bitter green cut clippings and grape bubble gum--
  
  "Are you okay?" he said, setting her back upright.
  
  "I'm fine! Sorry, I--"
  
  "You're Jessica, right?"
  
  "Yeah, you got me," she said, trying to stand up straight in the awkward shoes. How does he know my name?
  
  He smoothed his hair with one hand. Pointlessly, because it fell right back into place. He dismissed his friend with a subtle jerk of his head and Whatshisname scurried off. "Jessica, I wanted to ask you a question..."
  
  "Sure, Brandon!"
  
  He inhaled, hesitating, "Are you going...I mean...are you...would you..."
  
  "Yes, Brandon?"
  "Yes, Brandon?""Are you...going into the library right now?"
  
  "Um...yeah. I am...actually. I need to return these books."
  
  Brandon blinked, "Great! Wonderful! Here's the thing..." He reached into his shirt pocket and drew out a scrap of paper. "I need a book to do some research before Friday and Sister Mary Marshmallow took away my library privileges. I can't even go in there to read."
  
  "That's weird," Jessica said, taking the card which had a Dewey Decimal number on it. "What did you do to Sister Marcia?"
  
  "Long story." The hallway was clearing out as lunch was ending, and clacking heels echoed down the hallway. "Speak of the Devil," he said, glancing down at the nun who was in the process of confiscating cigarettes from a student. "I need that book."
  
  "Sure, I'll go get it right now--"
  
  "Thank you!" he said, putting his warm hands on Jessica's shoulders for a brief, wonderful moment. "I need to stay out of the Marshmallow's sight, but I'll meet you back out here in a few minutes."
  
  And he disappeared into the dispersing late lunch crowd.
  
  > go south
  Jessica let herself be submerged in the peace and quiet and smell of old paper that filled the library. The check out counter with its own set of shelves and private card catalog inaccessible to students took up the entryway, then the maze of library stacks spread away in every other direction besides north, which returned to the mundane
  world of school.
  
  Jessica slid her books through the slot hoping Mrs. Bowler would overlook that they were two days overdue.
  
  Her eye was drawn to an ominous greenish-leather tome sitting by itself on the sorting shelves behind the counter.
  
  > examine Tome
  She couldn't tear her gaze from the thick, ancient volume on the shelf by itself--like the other books didn't want to be near it. The cover was rough-tooled moss-green leather stitched from uneven scraps, and the spine had a flat eye-shaped oval right above the title, which was unreadable at this distance.
  
  > get tome
  Jessica reached for the book. There was no way her arm would stretch that far, but she tried, shoulder dislocating, elbow popping
  fingers tingle numb ears crackle thoughts scrambled--Y'
  ahor ymg' ah, gof'n, ph'nglui yar... The lidded eye on the spine opened, staring balefully at her, bloodshot, blinking--
  "Jessica, are you okay?" Mrs. Bowler was right there.
  
  "I'm fine," she replied finally, shaking the static out of her head. "I'm looking for this book." She pushed the scrap forward on the counter and the librarian peered at it curiously. "Give me a second." Mrs. Bowler flipped effortlessly through the drawers of the private staff card catalog, then moved to an enormous paper ledger off to the side, licking her fingers and flipping bible-thin leaves. Jessica scuffed her toe, hoping Brandon wouldn't give up and leave before she returned...
  returned...She was lost in her thoughts when Mrs. Bowler appeared again, displaying a lavender paperback copy of Are You There, God? It's Me, Margaret, "Have you ever read this one? It's a really heartwarming story about a girl just like you!"
  
  "Yeah, I think so. Probably in fifth grade."
  
  "Oh, well, good!" Mrs. Bowler stashed the book under the counter. "We don't shelve the book you asked about, but the city library does."
  
  "Really?" Jessica groaned. "I need it."
  
  "Well, I can put in a request to transfer it here and you'll have it by next week. Or if your parents have a Backwater Public Library card you could go get it yourself--wait a second..." She turned to the sorting shelves behind her.
  "What was I thinking, here it is!" She grabbed a slim volume from the shelf, stamped a due date on the slip inside the cover, and placed it into Jessica's hands. "I thought it sounded familiar. I guess someone asked for it to be transferred last week and never showed up to check it out!" The office phone blurbled and she moved toward it. "Lucky for you!"
  
  > Examine book
  (a slim hardback manual)
  It was the library book Brandon wanted. A stamp in indigo ink inside the cover declared it ON LOAN from The Backwater Public
  Library above their weird but kind of cool official library
  insignia: double eclipsing moons joined by an all-seeing eye reading an open book--in Backwater, Vermont.
  
  > go to the north
  cafeteria and back west to the Chapel. The Gymnasium yawned its familiar oppressive woodsmell to the north below a paper banner
  in direct opposition to the school Library, which was an oasis of quiet solitude to the south.
  
  Brandon was leaning against her locker pushing buttons on his digital watch.
  
  > give Book to Brandon
  "Hey! Brandon. We lucked out! The book was on loan from--"
  
  "Amazing! You're really a groovy chick, you know, Jessica?" he grinned and she felt her neck flush as she held out the book for him.
  
  "One other thing. Don't hand it to me here," he said, looking over his shoulder. "I can't even be seen with a library book. It's a
  secret. What I need you to do is hide it for me. You know where the black tile is? On the floor in the Narthex?"
  
  > No
  "If you look right at the base of the ladder to the steeple--in the Narthex--there's one black tile in the floor and it's loose. There's enough room under it to hide the book. Put it under there for me, and...can I ask you one more question?"
  
  "Sure, Brandon."
  
  "I know it's short notice, but is someone... I mean, do you um... Do you have plans for Friday night?"
  
  "Friday, um. Well--" Jessica checked her wrist for a watch that wasn't there, "that's the night of the Maple Harvest Dance, isn't it?"
  
  "It is. And I...I hate social functions, but I get the feeling you do too. But I was wondering...if you weren't going with anyone, would you want to come with me Friday night? We can be anti-social together.
  
  "Well...
  
  > Yes
  "Yes, yes! I'd love to go to the dance with you, Brandon!"
  He leaned forward and kissed her forehead, his lips gentle on
  her brow. "Thank you, Jessica. I know it's hard to make your mark in this school, but I promise you after Friday, everyone in Backwater will know who Jessica and Brandon are. I gotta get to Trig. I'll talk to you after school!"
  
  Brandon slipped away into the crowd, and Jessica felt as though she were floating three feet off the floor--until she remembered it was the heels.
  
  > go west
  Jessica gasped as a clawed hand squeezed her shoulder, whirling her around. Sister Mary Marcia stepped in close, pinning her against the lockers. "Those shoes are not appropriate for school wear. You are
  out of dress-code, Missy."
  
  "I'm sorry Sister Mary Marcia, I didn't--"
  
  "I don't have time for this. Just give me the shoes," she demanded.
  
  Jessica tried her best to keep control, "But, please, Sister, these belong to my sister--my own sister--and she will kill me if I don't give them back..."
  
  "Well, she can have them back at the end of the school year like everything else. Take them off this instant."
  
  > No
  (addressing Sister Mary Marcia)
  The nun's grip tightened on her wrist.
  
  "Did you hear me, young lady? Or do we need to march over to the Mother Superior's office?"
  
  > PUSH SISTER MARY MARCIA
  
  > go west
  The bland checkerboard-floored antechamber (though the nuns always called it the narthex) that connected the chapel to the main
  school hallway proudly displayed a decade's worth of framed photographs of historical Catholic figures and famous nuns, posters for school activities, and important mimeographed lists of extra-curricular activity rosters taped to the walls.
  
  Bellowed hosannas from choir rehearsal taking place behind the closed chapel doors to the west competed with the roar of the school
  hallway to the east.
  
  The ladder to the bell tower rose against the wall in its usual place. A sign mounted at face-height read "STAFF ONLY. NO STUDENTS!"
  
  > get the tile
  The black tile opened like a lid, revealing a dark space underneath.
  
  > put Book in Space
  There. Jessica replaced the black tile with a sense of
  satisfaction. Nobody would ever find it unless they knew
  where to look...
  
  It was Jessica and Brandon's secret...
  
  > go outside
  Your reading glasses frost over at the edges. You feel a sharp pain from the cold spot on your shoulder, and feel like there's a library book you--or Emmett, perhaps--hasn't read yet from this location.
  
  Narthex (Hanon Ondricek)
  The narthex extends the width of the church. Despite the
  gloominess, it's not that unwelcoming except for the eye-watering pattern of industrial linoleum floor tiles. They checkerboard underfoot in grayish green and grayish white squares with dark speckles, stopping only at the margin marked by a wall border at waist level.
  
  leads out of the building.
  
  Two side by side openings lead in to restrooms.
  
  A collection of framed photos is arranged on one wall, and a woodstained ladder bolted nearby leads up through a square
  opening in the ceiling.
  
  > examine the tiles
  The floor expands underneath; a bewildering checkerboard of pale green and white linoleum tiles.
  
  > examine the ladder
  opening in the ceiling, you would presume to the steeple--if the whipping wind and ominous creaking from above is any indication. A plastic sign at face-height indicates "STAFF ONLY Please! Thank
  you!"
  
  > look at the black tile
  One odd black tile near the foot of the ladder. They must have run out of green and white during a repair.
  
  > open it
  The black tile opens like a lid, revealing a dark space underneath.
  
  Low on the horizon, the mercurial sliver of moon doubles, passing mirrored through itself to illuminate the fiendish scribble the eye gazes down to comprehend.
  Black thoughts in an inky square, revealed by colored moonlight glinting through the church window glass.
  
  > look at Space
  You have moved aside one odd black tile near the foot of the ladder. They must have run out of green and white during a repair. There are a small hollow in the floor under the tile.
  
  In the the space under the tile are a vintage Black Sabbath tee shirt and a slim hardback manual.
  
  > look at the tee
  The printing is legit metal--crackledy and faded.
  
  > examine the manual
  It's a thin but colorful hardback manual, To Have, and To Have
  Knots: An Illustrated Guide by Melvyn Camber. A stamp in dark
  purple ink on the inside of the front cover reads ON LOAN from The Backwater Public Library above the official library insignia:
  it's supposed to be two back-to-back crescent moons joined by an eye looking down at an open book, but it's hard not to see it as a scuttling four-legged eye-creature preparing to leap onto the pages below. A loosely-gummed paper slip is pasted to the frontspiece of the book.
  
  > look at the slip
  (the slip of paper (smelling faintly of mildew))
  It says "Inspected by Number 8."
  
  A faint smell of mildew emanates from it.
  
  > look at the gummed slip
  A yellowed slip of paper on the frontspiece of the illustrated knot book has a series of stamped due dates. The last one is 1979 MAR 30 FRI
  
  > read it
  The book falls naturally open to a picture of a noose.
  
  The common noose looks great as a scary yard decoration during Halloween or to improve your fishing or boating experience. The noose is a secure and easy-tightening loop that holds it shape for tossing over a boat mooring. But kids, listen to Uncle Melvyn: DO NOT WEAR A NOOSE around your neck or tie one around anyone else's neck under any circumstances, even as a joke...
  
  As you finish reading the passage, your own hands grow cold, and the book briefly frosts over before fading again, leaving traces behind only in the library insignia.
  
  > Continue
  The book falls naturally open to a picture of a noose.
  
  The common noose looks great as a scary yard decoration during Halloween or to improve your fishing or boating experience. The noose is a secure and easy-tightening loop that holds it shape for tossing over a boat mooring. But kids, listen to Uncle Melvyn: DO NOT WEAR A NOOSE around your neck or tie one around anyone else's neck under any circumstances, even as a joke...
  
  > wear the tee
  You pull the shirt on over your head... Yes, you can still
  fit a medium...though it's a bit snug in the chest. As the shirt settles, you detect a faint whiff of a freshly-mown lawn in the spring.
  You stifle a scream as a clawed hand squeezes your
  shoulder--"Brandon Cragne!"--you whirl face-to-face with a
  moon-faced nun in a black habit. She releases you and steps back. "Oh. I'm sorry. You're not the person I thought you were!"
  
  "No, I'm Naomi Cragne," you say, unsure whether you're supposed to offer a handshake to a nun or curtsy or--"I'm sorry. I didn't
  realize anyone was in here," you respond, oddly disappointed to still be yourself--"I don't mean to intrude, Sister."
  
  "It's all right. All are welcome, dear." She peers sagely into your eyes, placing her hands on your shoulders. "May the Lord bless you and keep you safe. Be careful around here."
  
  A dull roaring rose behind her, fluttering her habit. She leaned back and shook her head sadly.
  
  "You want to hear some irony? I became a nun because I figured that way I'd never feel what it was like to burn."
  way I'd never feel what it was like to burn."The picture wall behind her exploded into a vortex of orange and gold flames whirling with leaves which flamed out of existence screaming.
  
  The nun turned--her habit blazed a column of fire to the ceiling.
  "I'm coming!" she called, and ran directly into the flames to save
  as many of her students as she could, merging with the inferno.
  as many of her students as she could, merging with the
  inferno.Three plain angels slammed the doors to the school
  hallway--
  
  !!!kerblam!!!
  
  --hard enough to rumble the entire church and hurl every picture from the walls down to the tile floor in a thunderous crash of sparkling glass and wood.