text: [Themes: Lovecraftian, Horror, self-mutilation, female protagonist, body horror, changing environment, child death, research, surreal]
  
  > look around
  A dim antechamber, opening onto the main chapel to the east. To the west, the main doors to the church have been solidly nailed shut, and a shadowy doorway to the south leads to further darkness.
  
  > Go east
  Broken shards from the shattered the stained glass windows grits under your feet as you step around rows of overturned pews. The dust and cobwebs have been busy here, reclaiming another bit of this town's abandoned history. To the west lies the vestibule; to the east, a small doorway behind the pulpit leads to the back of the church.
  
  The big wooden cross that once hung above the pulpit has fallen, split in half.
  
  On the pulpit is a huge, black tome.
  
  > examine the cross
  From the way it fell, it looks as though it must have been hung upside-down.
  
  > look at the tome
  It lies open atop the pulpit, thicker than an unabridged dictionary. Its thousands of yellowed, crinkly pages are bound in a strange black material that looks like some kind of hide but clearly isn't leather. Your first thought was that it might be a Bible, but a glance is sufficient to tell you otherwise. The text within is arranged in two columns, the first in what looks like Latin, the second a translation in English. There are illustrations, as well: horrible icons that make your skin crawl to look at.
  
  > read it
  As you lean closer over the pages to make out the words in this dim light, the letters seem to writhe and crawl across the page, twisting themselves into strange combinations, horrible words that you've never read before... and yet, somehow, you can understand their repulsive meaning. Something about a "Blessed Event",  which will happen very soon, and a hideous god whose name may not be spoken...
  
  Is this the book that was preached in this church before it fell to ruin? Are these the gods these people worshipped? You want to tear your eyes from the page in revulsion, but some small, gleefully filthy part of you wants to keep reading, to uncover the secrets that the people of Anchorhead uncovered...
  
  Will you read on?
  
  > No
  You step away from the podium with a shudder.
  
  > read it
  You are reluctant to look at the repulsive thing again.
  
  > put all in the coat
  small steel key: You slip the small steel key into the pocket of your trenchcoat.
  broken padlock: You slip the broken padlock into the pocket of your trenchcoat.
  teddy bear: You slip the teddy bear into the pocket of your trenchcoat.
  tattered drawing: You slip the tattered drawing into the pocket of your trenchcoat.
  broom: The broom is too long to fit in your pockets, deep though they are.
  
  From far below you hear the faint lapping of water.
  
  > take the robe
  You shake the cloth out, revealing it to be a hooded robe.
  
  From the stairwell behind you there is a sudden, painful shriek of nails ripping out of stone, a loud, protracted splintering, and finally a thunderous crash that seems to echo up the shaft from far below.
  
  > Go east
  Broken shards from the shattered the stained glass windows grits under your feet as you step around rows of overturned pews. The dust and cobwebs have been busy here, reclaiming another bit of this town's abandoned history. To the west lies the vestibule; to the east, a small doorway behind the pulpit leads to the back of the church.
  
  The big wooden cross that once hung above the pulpit has fallen, split in half.
  
  On the pulpit is a huge, black tome.
  
  > read tome
  It lies open atop the pulpit, thicker than an unabridged dictionary. Its thousands of yellowed, crinkly pages are bound in a strange black material that looks like some kind of hide but clearly isn't leather. Your first thought was that it might be a Bible, but a glance is sufficient to tell you otherwise. The text within is arranged in two columns, the first in what looks like Latin, the second a translation in English. There are illustrations, as well: horrible icons that make your skin crawl to look at.
  
  As you lean closer over the pages to make out the words in this dim light, the letters seem to writhe and crawl across the page, twisting themselves into strange combinations, horrible words that you've never read before... and yet, somehow, you can understand their repulsive meaning. Something about a "Blessed Event",  which will happen very soon, and a hideous god whose name may not be spoken...
  
  Is this the book that was preached in this church before it fell to ruin? Are these the gods these people worshipped? You want to tear your eyes from the page in revulsion, but some small, gleefully filthy part of you wants to keep reading, to uncover the secrets that the people of Anchorhead uncovered...
  
  Will you read on?
  
  > Yes
  As your hungry eyes lap up word after blasphemous word, it all becomes clear to you: you come to understand the true nature of He Who Is Named Not, and what the Verlacs were trying to accomplish all these years, preparing the people of Anchorhead for the Blessed Event... it all makes sense to you now.
  
  You step back, smiling, from the podium. There's no need to be afraid, you realize, for neither yourself nor your husband are in any danger. It's all right. It all makes sense. And when you raise your hands to your face and slowly push the fingernails of your first and middle fingers into each eye, digging the soft, bloody tissue out and dragging it down your cheeks in ropy smears... why, that's all right, too.
  
  It's the most natural thing in the world.
  
  > Burn tome
  You step away from the podium with a shudder.
  
  You don't have a match.
  
  > look at the pulpit
  Where once fiery-tongued preachers harangued congregations of quaking Puritans, now there is simply a dusty wooden box on its end. Sitting atop it is a huge, black-bound tome.
  
  > examine the cross
  From the way it fell, it looks as though it must have been hung upside-down.
  
  > move the pulpit
  That would accomplish very little.
  
  > look at the windows
  The stained-glass windows are old and coated with grime, and many of the panels have been broken out by time and vandals. Enough remains for you to make out most of the designs depicted in them, however -- and you find them vaguely disturbing. Saints -- at least none of the saints you're aware of -- should not be depicted performing such acts, nor with such insidious leers on their faces as they perform them.
  
  > look at the pews
  The once orderly procession of benches is now a jackstraw jumble of broken wood
  
  > Go east
  This little room behind the chapel is hardly bigger than a broom closet. A ladder bolted to the wall leads up through a hatch, presumably up into the steeple.
  
  > examine the ladder
  It's an ordinary wooden ladder.
  
  > Go upwards
  A tiny space inside the tip of the church's steeple, barely five feet across, the walls tapering to only two feet across some twelve feet above your head. There is a narrow window, but it seems to have been painted black at some point. The only exit seems to be the ladder from which you just emerged.
  
  An old length of rope dangles down from a square hole cut in the ceiling.
  
  > examine the hole
  (the square hole)
  You can't quite see what's up there, but you assume it must lead to the belfry.
  
  > Go upward
  You haul yourself up onto the rope, bringing your whole weight to bear. It holds for about three seconds -- then there is a sharp snap from above you and a muffled clank. The rope falls, spilling you to the floor amidst an untidy tangle of coils.
  
  > get tome
  A horrid coldness seeps into your fingers as you try to pick the book up; it flows from the book itself into your body, soaking into your bones and making your back teeth ache. Quickly, you set the book down again, absently trying to rub the unpleasant sensation from your hands.
  
  > Burn book
  (the huge, black tome)
  The match isn't lit.
  
  > Light match
  One of the matches starts to burn.
  
  > Burn book
  (the huge, black tome)
  Petty arson isn't going to solve your problems.
  
  > Go south
  The stairs are completely gone, now. All that's left is a narrow ledge overlooking an empty shaft, and a fair portion of the railing still nailed to the wall.
  
  > tie the rope to the railing
  You tie the rope securely to the railing, letting the other end dangle down into the dark shaft.
  
  > put all in the pocket
  hooded robe: No matter how tightly you roll up the heavy robe, it is still too big to fit in your pocket.
  
  > drop the robe in the shaft
  The hooded robe drops down out of sight, and a few seconds later you hear a faint splash.
  
  > climb the rope
  Gripping the end of the rope tightly, you lower yourself off the edge and shimmy down into the darkness.
  
  Your feet dangle over empty space. Looking down, you can barely make out a faint glimmer of water, far below.
  
  > jump
  You take a deep breath, shut your eyes tight, say a quick prayer... and let go of the rope.
  
  The heart-stopping plunge lasts only a second or two before you hit shockingly cold water. Your flashlight goes out and blackness envelopes you. Water rushes into your mouth and nose; the stone bottom slams into your side and nearly knocks the wind out of you... and then you find your feet, and your head breaks the surface. Blindly, you thrash about until you find higher ground, and you crawl, choking and sputtering, feeling cold brick beneath your fingers.
  
  It is pitch dark, and you can't see a thing.
  
  > check your inventory
  You are wearing your trenchcoat, your clothes and your wedding ring.
  
  The pockets of your trenchcoat contain a tattered drawing, a teddy bear, a broken padlock, a small steel key, a meat hook, a newspaper, a strange metal flute, a silver locket, a gold locket, a flashlight, a keyring, on which are five keys (a small copper key, an old-fashioned brass key, an old-fashioned iron key, a key to the house and a key to the cellar), an animal's skull, Michael's faculty card, a bundle of soggy pages, a puzzle box (which is open but empty), a flask (which is closed), a letter opener, a slip of paper, a family album, a book of matches with six matches left, a torn journal, a typewritten notice, a lantern, your umbrella and a towel.
  
  > Light match
  One of the matches starts to burn.
  
  The walls of this long, rectangular chamber are made of crumbling brick, not concrete; most likely it was built at some earlier period than the rest of the tunnels. The ceiling is lost in darkness above you, but from the sounds of the echoes it must be pretty high. Water flowing in from the northwestern tunnel has pooled in a depression sunk into the limestone floor, becoming quite deep near the far end.
  
  The shattered wreckage of the church stairway lies half submerged in the water-filled depression. You're lucky to have missed it in your fall.
  
  You can also see a hooded robe here.
  
  > turn on the flashlight
  The flashlight must not be quite as waterproof as you originally thought; the beam flickers unsteadily, and you have to bang it against the palm of your hand a couple of times to get it to work.
  
  Ouch! You drop the match as it burns down to your fingers.
  
  > go northwest
  The tunnel is ankle-deep in brackish water, though raised walkways on either side provide relatively dry footing. The walls are slick, the air damp and foul. The main tunnel runs north and southeast. Numerous smaller pipelines lead in all directions, but all are too small for you to crawl through. Iron rungs embedded in the wall lead up through an access shaft, back to the surface.
  
  Ouch! You drop the match as it burns down to your fingers.
  
  > get the robe
  Taken.
  
  Ouch! You drop the match as it burns down to your fingers.
  
  > Go northwest
  The tunnel is ankle-deep in brackish water, though raised walkways on either side provide relatively dry footing. The walls are slick, the air damp and foul. The main tunnel runs north and southeast. Numerous smaller pipelines lead in all directions, but all are too small for you to crawl through. Iron rungs embedded in the wall lead up through an access shaft, back to the surface.
  
  > Go north
  The ceiling in this north-south tunnel is so low you must bend nearly double to navigate it. Water drips endlessly through the walls and ceiling, seeping in through thousands of invisible fissures, the constant plip-plip-plipping echoing loudly throughout the tunnel. The air is so damp you can hardly breathe. Unless your sense of direction is mistaken, you must be crossing the Miskaton River -- underneath
  it.
  I beg your pardon?
  
  > go north
  This looks to be an older part of the sewer system that has fallen into disrepair. Many of the pipes here have crumbled and are filled with debris.
  
  Set in the low ceiling is an old iron hatch.
  
  > examine the hatch
  It's a rectangle of corroded metal, just over a foot long on each side. There are hinges along one edge on this side; if you could get your fingers under the opposite edge, you could probably pry it open.
  
  > Inventory
  You are wearing your trenchcoat, your clothes and your wedding ring; in addition, you have in your hands a meat hook, a hooded robe, a book of matches with five matches left and a lantern (providing light).
  
  The pockets of your trenchcoat contain a tattered drawing, a teddy bear, a broken padlock, a small steel key, a newspaper, a strange metal flute, a silver locket, a gold locket, a flashlight, a keyring, on which are five keys (a small copper key, an old-fashioned brass key, an old-fashioned iron key, a key to the house and a key to the cellar), an animal's skull, Michael's faculty card, a bundle of soggy pages, a puzzle box (which is open but empty), a flask (which is closed), a letter opener, a slip of paper, a family album, a torn journal, a typewritten notice, your umbrella and a towel.
  
  > put the steel key on the ring
  (first taking the small steel key)
  (slipping the book of matches into the pocket of your trenchcoat to get a hand free)
  Putting things on the wedding ring would achieve nothing.
  
  > Go south
  The ceiling in this north-south tunnel is so low you must bend nearly double to navigate it. Water drips endlessly through the walls and ceiling, seeping in through thousands of invisible fissures, the constant plip-plip-plipping echoing loudly throughout the tunnel. The air is so damp you can hardly breathe. Unless your sense of direction is mistaken, you must be crossing the Miskaton River -- underneath
  it.
  
  > wear the robe
  You put on the hooded robe.
  
  > go upward
  This tiny, concrete-lined alcove within the underside of the bridge forms the top of a vertical shaft leading down into darkness. Iron rungs embedded in the wall provide a way down.
  
  In the north wall is a small metal door.
  
  > Go north
  (opening the small metal door first)
  
  The ponderous stones of Whateley Bridge arch overhead, casting this little concrete ledge into deep shadow. At your feet, the dark waters lap quietly against the stones with a hollow, subterranean sound. Stone steps to the southeast lead back up to street level.
  
  A small metal door, blotchy with rust, is set into the south bank of the river, underneath the bridge.
  
  > go to the east
  Where once a building stood, there is now only cracked pavement and rampant weeds. A high chain-link fence surrounds this vacant lot; the only breaks lie to the west and southeast.
  
  A filthy old mattress lies among the weeds over in one corner of the lot.
  
  > Go west
  A wide expanse of uneven pavestones lies open to the sky, bordered on all sides by the leaning, steep-roofed architecture that looms over everything in this city. The municipal courthouse stands at the south end of the square, next to the mouth of a dark, narrow alley to the southwest. Avenues to the west and east lead back into the cramped and ingrown streets, while to the north lies Whateley Bridge.
  
  There appears to be a commotion of sorts to the north, where a group of townsfolk have gathered.
  
  In the center of the square, rising from a circular lawn of unhealthy-looking grass and weeds, stands a strange, stone obelisk. It seems to be a monument of some sort, although you can see no plaque or marker anywhere near it.
  
  A gust of wind blows your hair into your face.
  
  > go north
  A hoary monument of crumbling, moss-eaten flagstones, Whateley Bridge is possibly older than any other structure in the entire city. Ponderously it spans the dark, torpid waters of the Miskaton River, connecting the north and south halves of the city and occasionally raining bits of gravel and mortar from its underside into the water. It looks just wide enough for two cars to pass each other between the flanking stone parapets, but you wouldn't volunteer to try it.
  
  A group of wary-looking townsfolk has gathered, keeping a watchful eye on the streets leading to and from the bridge.
  
  Suddenly, someone's finger jabs out at you. "It's the woman!" He shouts. "Get her!!"
  
  > go south
  The game is up. You turn to run, but already the men are on your heels...
  
  There is no time to run. Heavy boots on the cobblestones; hands lunging toward you -- they are everywhere, grabbing you from every side, immobilizing you. Someone's huge, calloused paw closes around your windpipe and starts to squeeze. Just before you black out, you can feel yourself being lifted off your feet...
  
  > remove the robe
  You take off the hooded robe.
  
  > Wear coat
  You put on the trenchcoat.
  
  > Go north
  (opening the small metal door first)
  
  The ponderous stones of Whateley Bridge arch overhead, casting this little concrete ledge into deep shadow. At your feet, the dark waters lap quietly against the stones with a hollow, subterranean sound. Stone steps to the southeast lead back up to street level.
  
  A small metal door, blotchy with rust, is set into the south bank of the river, underneath the bridge.
  
  The cold wind blows harder, tugging at the hem of your trenchcoat.
  
  > Go west
  A wide expanse of uneven pavestones lies open to the sky, bordered on all sides by the leaning, steep-roofed architecture that looms over everything in this city. The municipal courthouse stands at the south end of the square, next to the mouth of a dark, narrow alley to the southwest. Avenues to the west and east lead back into the cramped and ingrown streets, while to the north lies Whateley Bridge.
  
  There appears to be a commotion of sorts to the north, where a group of townsfolk have gathered.
  
  In the center of the square, rising from a circular lawn of unhealthy-looking grass and weeds, stands a strange, stone obelisk. It seems to be a monument of some sort, although you can see no plaque or marker anywhere near it.
  
  > Go southwest
  This is a featureless blind alley, a dead end. Through the narrow and heavily shadowed opening to the northeast, you can see the square and the obelisk at its center.
  
  > examine the Square
  Although you're too far away to read the hieroglyphs on its sides, you have an otherwise excellent view of the obelisk from here.
  
  > Wait
  Time passes.
  
  > Go northeast
  A wide expanse of uneven pavestones lies open to the sky, bordered on all sides by the leaning, steep-roofed architecture that looms over everything in this city. The municipal courthouse stands at the south end of the square, next to the mouth of a dark, narrow alley to the southwest. Avenues to the west and east lead back into the cramped and ingrown streets, while to the north lies Whateley Bridge.
  
  There appears to be a commotion of sorts to the north, where a group of townsfolk have gathered.
  
  In the center of the square, rising from a circular lawn of unhealthy-looking grass and weeds, stands a strange, stone obelisk. It seems to be a monument of some sort, although you can see no plaque or marker anywhere near it.
  
  The cold wind cuts through your clothes, chilling you to the bone.
  
  > examine the group
  The townsfolk have gathered in a small crowd on Whateley Bridge. Word of your snooping must have gotten around quickly; these fellows are obviously not taking any chances on the possibility of you escaping from the church, and are keeping a sharp lookout.
  
  > Go west
  The rooftops above you lean so close together as to nearly block out the sky altogether, making this a particularly dark and unpleasant section of the city. The street leads away to the east, and a shadowy driveway leads through a high brick wall to the south.
  
  > check what you're carrying
  You are wearing your trenchcoat, your clothes and your wedding ring; in addition, you have in your hands a meat hook, a hooded robe and a lantern (providing light).
  
  The pockets of your trenchcoat contain a book of matches with five matches left, a tattered drawing, a teddy bear, a broken padlock, a newspaper, a strange metal flute, a silver locket, a gold locket, a flashlight, a keyring, on which are six keys (a small steel key, a small copper key, an old-fashioned brass key, an old-fashioned iron key, a key to the house and a key to the cellar), an animal's skull, Michael's faculty card, a bundle of soggy pages, a puzzle box (which is open but empty), a flask (which is closed), a letter opener, a slip of paper, a family album, a torn journal, a typewritten notice, your umbrella and a towel.
  
  A flurry of dead leaves goes skittering along the ground, swirling past you in the wind.
  
  > go southeast
  The path bends northeast, around the side of the church.
  
  The forest encroaches right up to the iron fence here, some of which is literally buried in the tangled underbrush. There are no doors on this side, although a wooden trap door over by the corner of the building probably leads into a cellar. A path leads southwest, around to the front of the church.
  
  You can see a shiny new padlock here.
  
  > look at the padlock
  Which do you mean, the shiny new padlock or the broken padlock?
  
  > shine
  What do you want to shine?
  
  > examine shiny padlock
  This padlock is about as big as the first one, with the extra advantage of being brand spanking new. No way you're getting this one off without a key.
  
  > go southwest
  The path bends northwest, around the side of the church.
  
  A low, wrought-iron fence, its spike-tipped bars bent or leaning at crazy angles, surrounds the overgrown yard of this dark, abandoned church. A gap in the fence leads back west, while a bare path beaten through the groping weeds leads around the church to the southeast.