text: > point at the masks
  You point at the set of masks. Peter doesn't notice.
  
  > Point at Gate
  You point at the gate. Peter doesn't notice.
  
  > point at yourself
  You point at yourself. Peter doesn't notice.
  
  > point at Peter
  You point at Peter. Peter doesn't notice.
  
  > Wave
  You wave.
  
  > wave at Peter
  You wave at Peter. He doesn't wave back.
  
  > Shake peter
  You shake Peter. When you let go, his body continues to shake. His skin splits open, revealing the most beautiful creature you have ever seen. Overcome with happiness, you start to weep, tears of blood running down your cheeks.
  
  > hug Peter
  You wrap your arms around Peter, trying to warm him up. You're about to give up, when he suddenly hugs you back. He's cold, so cold. You try to pull away, but he only holds you more tightly, squeezing you until you can barely breathe. When he finally releases you, you find you are frozen in place. As the world around you goes black, all you can think is that at least your husband is alive.
  
  > cry
  You break down into tears, sobbing heavily, all without making a sound.
  
  Your heart feels a little lighter.
  
  > Laugh
  You laugh. At first it feels forced, but soon you're laughing hysterically, albeit silently.
  
  The world seems a little brighter.
  
  Suddenly Peter looks up at you. He stands up and walks over to you, taking your hand.
  
  > Point at Gate
  You point at the gate. Peter shrugs.
  
  > point at masks
  You gesture at the set of masks. Peter nods and retrieves them for you.
  
  > look at the masks
  It's a set of those tragedy and comedy masks you've seen on theatre playbills. You think they're named Sock and Buskin.
  
  > search them
  sock mask: You wipe away some dirt, revealing the number 2.
  
  buskin mask: It's been scratched out, but you think you can make out the number 5.
  
  > set left dial to 2
  You turn the left dial to 2.
  
  > set the right dial to 5
  You turn the right dial to 5.
  
  The gate suddenly swings open.
  
  > enter Gate
  You take Peter's hand and walk forward, through the gate and into the night.
  
  > go to the west
  A short street terminates here. To the south it opens into the town square. To the east, a few worn steps rise to the entrance of the public library, and to the west you can see a real estate office. A gloomy path leads northwest, towards the woods.
  
  You can see a notice board here.
  
  An ethereal trolley stop sign reads Blue Line -- Library Square.
  
  > Go west
  Estate Agent's Office (Jenni Polodna)
  The space is dominated by the unexpectedly symbiotic combination of a giant desk and a tiny woman, who together give the impression of being one complete single entity, like a centaur. The surface of the desk is invisible underneath a loose pile of glossy architectural magazines, manila folders, and real estate listings pamphlets. Behind it, a gunmetal-grey filing cabinet lurks unattractively in the far corner. The exit back out to the street is east.
  
  Bethany looks at you expectantly. "Any real estate questions for me?"
  
  > ask Bethany about the church basement
  "I'm sorry," Bethany says, "I have auditory processing disorder, and as far as I can tell, you just said 'latency pals'.
  
  > Go east
  A short street terminates here. To the south it opens into the town square. To the east, a few worn steps rise to the entrance of the public library, and to the west you can see a real estate office. A gloomy path leads northwest, towards the woods.
  
  You can see a notice board here.
  
  A mistlike trolley stop sign reads Blue Line -- Library Square.
  
  > unlock Door with the brass key
  You unlock the Shack Door.
  
  > Go inside
  (first opening the Shack Door)
  
  Inside the Shack (Daniel Ravipinto)
  The shadows pool in strange shapes along the earthen floor of the shack, the only light coming from the cracks in the surprisingly high ceiling and through the opened door. Piles of accumulated junk that Peter's family must have stored here over the decades lie against the inner walls, which have turned grey with either dust or the mere passage of time.
  
  One of the shadows at the shack's far end moves, then separates into a distinct shape, slumped against a supporting pillar. There's something in here with you.
  
  > go northwest
  The Dim Recesses of the Forest (Jacqueline A. Lott Ashwell)
  Branches scramble overhead, straining toward one another in a bid to blot out the sky. Mercifully, light manages to filter down through an opening in the canopy above a small pond. Paths slither away into the forest to the north, southwest, and southeast.
  
  You can see a flat stone here.
  
  Somewhere in the distance, you hear a mourning dove's plaintive song. From above, a leaf floats slowly toward the ground.
  
  > Go north
  The Old Well (Reed Lockwood)
  The trees here gather, black with wet; glimmering fingers hung with ragged matter, huddling beneath a cold and gently weeping sky. Beneath your feet, the damp red felt of rotting leaves slopes down toward a still, murky puddle. Nearby is a well, a ragged, gaping hole in the earth. A broken-down section of brick wall waits for raindrops to fall along its spine, and an old, half-dead oak straddles an angular boulder studded with quartz. A path through the forest leads south.
  
  You can see a golden eyepiece (smelling faintly of mildew), a comfy snake, a colorful bird, a polyphonic ungulate and a wooden sigil here.
  
  A noncorporeal trolley stop sign reads Green Line -- The Woods.
  
  > Go upwards
  The Old Well (Reed Lockwood)
  The trees here gather, black with wet; glimmering fingers hung with ragged matter, huddling beneath a cold and gently weeping sky. Beneath your feet, the damp red felt of rotting leaves slopes down toward a still, murky puddle. Nearby is a well, a ragged, gaping hole in the earth. A broken-down section of brick wall waits for raindrops to fall along its spine, and an old, half-dead oak straddles an angular boulder studded with quartz. A path through the forest leads south.
  
  You can see a golden eyepiece (smelling faintly of mildew), a comfy snake, a colorful bird, a polyphonic ungulate and a wooden sigil here.
  
  A phantom trolley stop sign reads Green Line -- The Woods.
  
  > go to the south
  The Dim Recesses of the Forest (Jacqueline A. Lott Ashwell)
  Branches scramble overhead, straining toward one another in a bid to blot out the sky. Mercifully, light manages to filter down through an opening in the canopy above a small pond. Paths slither away into the forest to the north, southwest, and southeast.
  
  You can see a flat stone here.
  
  The wind picks up again for a moment, and a few leaves fall from above. One of the leaves settles in your hair. You disentangle the leaf and toss it to the ground.
  
  > Go southwest
  The Churchyard (David Jose)
  A neglected and long forgotten cemetery stretches out below you, surrounded by a rusted wrought iron fence. Lopsided gravemarkers, slowly succumbing to the elements, topple downhill like a congregation bent low in prayer. At the very center of the graveyard, set into a low valley, a squat, stone mausoleum crouches menacingly.
  
  To the southwest a dilapidated, stave church rises up obscenely against the night sky.
  
  A dark pine forest crowds against the wrought iron fence to the northeast. You might be able to forge a path between its trees.
  
  > go inside
  Mausoleum (Gary Butterfield)
  You're blinking more than usual. You shake your head to try to clear it.
  
  > go southwest
  The gravel road curves here past the doors of an old stone church, which squats defeatedly amid a few straggly trees. Behind it, to the northeast, you can see the first few stones of a modest graveyard. To the east the road narrows to cross a small bridge into the village proper; to the north, it crests the hill toward the train station.
  
  A mistlike trolley stop sign reads Gold Line -- Church.