Part 14: Day One- Page 14

Welp, this is the end of Day 1, folks. Strap in...

>show Mike ring
Michael takes your left hand and kisses it, smiling. "Every time I see this ring on your finger, it reminds me of how much I love you," he says.

Hey, Husband! You like my new threads? I stole them from the office.

>show mike clothes
Michael looks you up and down. "It looks good on you," he says.

>show mike coat
Michael looks you up and down. "It looks good on you," he says.

>show mike lamp
(first taking the lantern)
Michael takes the lantern and looks at it curiously. "That's all right," he says, handing it back. "You hold on to it."

In the distance, you can hear the lonesome keening of a train whistle drifting on the wind.

At this point, I realized that Miranda Carter is some kind of crow that steals shiny things and shows them to her husband.
We should pick a spot in the house to save all our shinies into a horde, then sit on top like Smaug from the Hobit.

>put lamp in coat
You slip the lantern into the pocket of your trenchcoat.

>show mike note
(first taking the typewritten notice)
Michael takes the typewritten notice and looks at it curiously. "That's all right," he says, handing it back. "You hold on to it."

>put note in coat
You slip the typewritten notice into the pocket of your trenchcoat.

Man. Is that everything? Seems like we had more.

>I
You are wearing your wedding ring, your trenchcoat and your clothes; in addition, you have in your hands a keyring, on which are two keys (a key to the house and a key to the cellar), a styrofoam cup, inside which is some cold, murky coffee and your umbrella.

The pockets of your trenchcoat contain a typewritten notice, a lantern, a flask (which is closed) and an old tin (which is closed).

>ask husband about job
"Isn't it wonderful? A full professorship! At this rate I'll have tenure in just a few years. I think I'm really going to like teaching here."

That's just on the left side of suspicious, dear husband.

So I asked about everything, I think, that I was asked to ask and sadly, Miranda had little to say about it all.

>Ask about Asylum
Michael scratches his head. "I don't really know much about that," he says.
>ask mike about trees
You can't think of anything to say about that for the moment.
>ask mike about Necronomicon
You can't think of anything to say about that for the moment.
>ask mike about rare books
You can't think of anything to say about that for the moment.
>ask about Cthulhu
You can't think of anything to say about that for the moment.
>Ask about obelisk
You can't think of anything to say about that for the moment.
>Ask about Xyzzy
You can't think of anything to say about that for the moment.
>Ask about plugh
You can't think of anything to say about that for the moment.
>Ask about plover
You can't think of anything to say about that for the moment.

So, let's wrap up this day.

>North
You close your umbrella, as is your habit after coming indoors.

Foyer
Although it appears spacious from the outside, the house's interior feels cramped and gloomy. The walls seem too close together; the ceiling is too high. The doorways, leading in several directions, are narrow and filled with shadows, and the stairs leading up to the second floor are steep and rickety. This is not a house that makes you feel welcome. It is a house that makes you feel tiny and timid, and afraid of dark places. It is a house that makes you feel alone.

The front door stands open to the south.

Carelessly stacked in a towering heap in the middle of the room are all your luggage and belongings, which you had sent ahead through a moving company before driving up to Massachusetts. Everything you own is boxed away and piled up in the middle of the floor. The reality of this move finally slams home as you stare at the sprawling jumble of stuff, and suddenly you feel very lost and adrift.

Night has now undeniably fallen, and the house is very, very dark. There is probably just enough residual ambience to feel your way upstairs to the bedroom, but the rest of the house is a tenebrous maze of shadows, and any exploring would probably best be done in the morning.

Michael follows you.

Michael stretches his arms and yawns. "Well," he says, "I think I'm going to turn in. There'll be plenty of time to unpack and explore tomorrow. Good night, hon." He kisses you on the cheek. "Don't stay up too late."

And with that, he goes upstairs.

And we never got to speak with him again.
Being as dark as it is, we do have a thing for light.

>turn on lamp
That's not something you can switch.

Oh dear God, the Verb Search begins.

>take lamp
Taken.

>turn lamp on
That's not something you can switch.

>lite lamp
That's not a verb I recognise.

>set fire to lamp
You don't have a match.

I give up for now. I happen to know later we'll find matches.

>put lamp in coat
You slip the lantern into the pocket of your trenchcoat.

>look at luggage
It's all a huge, hopeless mess. Just looking at it instantly drains you of any desire to unpack.

>search luggage
Honestly, you just can't muster enough motivation.

Huh. Well, let's explore a little...

>East

Darkness
It is pitch dark, and you can't see a thing.

Crap! Not going to risk being eaten by a grue in a Lovecraft game.
(side note, Firefox recognizes "Grue" as a correctly spelled word)

>West

Foyer

The front door stands open to the south.

Your luggage is still here, spread out all over the foyer.

So, Miranda is being lead by the nose to the bedroom.

>look at stairs
The stairs lead up to the second floor.

>Up

Upstairs Landing
A narrow hallway runs east, from the top of the stairs down the length of the house. To the north, directly opposite the stairs, is the master bedroom.

>east

Darkness

I had hoped for more. Without electricity, I'm not sure how we can even see up the stairs.

>West

Upstairs Landing

>North

Master Bedroom
The master bedroom is a picture-postcard of rustic New England charm. Faded sketches of rural landscapes adorn the walls; a beautifully carved dressing mirror stands in one corner; an old-fashioned accordion radiator gurgles quietly beneath the window. The most striking feature, an enormous, antique, four-poster bed, must be the largest piece of furniture in the house.

Michael is curled up in bed, sound asleep.

If it weren't for this hopelessly backwater town and the disturbing circumstances surrounding the house, you'd say this was your dream home. Even so, as much as you would like to relax and enjoy the comforts of a fully furnished historical New England estate, you can't help but be put off by the shady aura surrounding the family that used to live here. The last of the line, you remind yourself, recently committed suicide after killing his wife and two daughters with a shotgun. Involuntarily you shiver, glancing nervously at the doorways to the south and west.

>look at Mike
Michael tends to sleep lightly at the best of times; tonight he tosses fitfully, as if plagued by dreams.

D'aw. He's adorable!
Look at his leg kick.
I bet he's dreaming of chasing a rabbit right now.

>look at bed
Thick, goose-down mattress, linen sheets, feather pillows, gauze canopy -- it's about the most beautiful, inviting bed you've ever seen.

>look at radiator
The radiator runs on gas, not electricity, which is why it's even working at all. It's quiet and it keeps the room cozy, which is all you really need it to do, so everything seems to be in order there.

Michael rolls over and mutters something in his sleep.

Is Mike trying to tell us something?
What is it, boy?

>listen to mike
You hear nothing unexpected.

The implication is that Michael always sleeps muttering eldritch terrors.

>take off coat
You take off the trenchcoat.

>drop coat
Dropped.

Let's see where this other door goes.

>West

Bathroom
A small chamber of cold, white tile and floral-print wallpaper. It sports a genuine, whitewashed, claw-foot bathtub with a shower attachment, which is a definite plus. The bedroom lies east.

>look at bath
It looks deep enough to swim in. You could spend hours soaking in that thing.

>look at shower head
It's just an ordinary-looking shower attachment.

Miranda's Kleptomania compels her to try and stuff the tub into her horde, but alas, the game misunderstood her intentions.

>Take tub
Grateful for the opportunity to relax, you remove your clothes, leave your things on the bathroom floor, draw a hot bath (the water, at least, is running, even if nothing else in the house is) and soak. The tension of this strange day melts gently from your body. After thirty minutes or so, you begin to feel normal again. After forty-five, you begin to think you might be able to adjust to this place after all. By then the water has begun to cool off, however, so you drain it and quietly dry yourself off. All in all, you feel enormously better.

Your score has just gone up by one point.



>East

Master Bedroom

Your trenchcoat is here.

Michael is curled up in bed, sound asleep.

Cuddle time.
As a happily married man, I can atest that cuddle time is the greatest time in the world. Especially if you have anime to watch.

>get in bed
Gratefully, you crawl into bed and pull the covers up to your chin.

>Sleep
Something is nagging at you, preventing you from sleeping... suddenly you remember -- you've left the front door unlocked.

. . .

Son of a BITCH!

>Get up
Reluctantly, you do so.
>West
Bathroom
Your clothes lie in an untidy pile on the floor.
You can also see your umbrella, a styrofoam cup (in which is some cold, murky coffee) and a keyring (on which are two keys (a key to the house and a key to the cellar)) here.
>Put on clothes
(first taking the clothes)
You put on the clothes.
>East
Master Bedroom
Your trenchcoat is here.
Michael is curled up in bed, sound asleep.
>South
Upstairs Landing
>Down
Foyer
The front door stands open to the south.
Your luggage is still here, spread out all over the foyer.
A cold, noiseless draft coils through the narrow entrance hall. You shiver, wondering where it came from.
>Close door
You close the front door.
>Lock door
You don't have the correct key.
>Complain
That's not a verb I recognise.

By the night's end, it will be, game.
It will be!

>Up
Upstairs Landing
>North
Master Bedroom
Your trenchcoat is here.
Michael is curled up in bed, sound asleep.
>Take keys from coat
You can't see any such thing.

What?

>Get keys
You can't see any such thing.
>Search coat
In the trenchcoat are a lantern, a typewritten notice, a flask and an old tin.

Ugh! I just wanna sleep!

>West
Bathroom
You can see your umbrella, a styrofoam cup (in which is some cold, murky coffee) and a keyring (on which are two keys (a key to the house and a key to the cellar)) here.
>Take keys
Taken.
>East
Master Bedroom
Your trenchcoat is here.
Michael is curled up in bed, sound asleep.
Michael kicks at the covers fitfully, then rolls over and sinks back into troubled sleep.
>South
Upstairs Landing
>Down
Foyer
Your luggage is still here, spread out all over the foyer.
>Lock door
You lock the front door.

Finally!

>Up
Upstairs Landing
>North
Master Bedroom
Your trenchcoat is here.
Michael is curled up in bed, sound asleep.
Michael emits a brief snore, then rolls over and sinks back into troubled sleep.
>Put keys in coat
You slip the keyring into the pocket of your trenchcoat.

*sigh* Alright. Where were we?

>get into bed
Gratefully, you remove your clothes, crawl into bed and pull the covers up to your chin.

>Sleep
Almost immediately you fall asleep, and as the wind slithers around the eaves and the house creaks furtive secrets to itself, you drift into troubling dreams...







You are waiting in your bed, with the coverlet up under your chin, waiting for Father to come tuck you in. Footsteps in the hall pause outside your door. You close your eyes; when you open them again Father is standing at the foot of the bed. His eyes are bloodshot, rimmed with red, and you wonder if he has been crying. Slowly, he starts to take off his belt.

Only it's not your father after all, it's Michael. He hands you a golden sphere and says:



"I don't know what it opens yet but I have an idea."

Your reflection is like a little doll trapped inside the sphere. Everything is tinged with gold. Your face swells and stretches comically as you stare back at yourself through the curved, distorting walls. Reaching out, your fingers curve back on themselves... the wall breaks and...

You are running from the eyes, the terrible red-rimmed eyes, through endless, narrow corridors of wooden slats and crumbling plaster. You stumble through turn after turn, hopelessly lost. There is a small hole in the boards -- peering through it you see Michael in the study, typing diligently away. You scream, you pound on the wall, but he can't hear you. The red-rimmed eyes draw closer; hurrying down a twisting passage you find a dead end... the wall breaks and...

Outside, you stand at another dead end, a high brick wall at the end of a steep, twisting lane. Written in black spraypaint...

He always returns to his blood.

Behind you, you hear the buzzing of a fly. You turn...








You wake up. Steam billows gently by, and you can hear the sound of running water coming from the bathroom.

>score
You have so far scored 5 out of a possible 100 points; you are at the threshold of a foreboding mystery.

That's all for today, folks.
Tomorrow, we begin Day 2, and truly start exploring.