Start of a transcript of

Cragne Manor
An Anchorhead tribute by various authors
Release 10 / Serial number 181208 / Inform 7 build 6M62 (I6/v6.33 lib 6/12N) 
Identification number: //1A586AF4-661C-4879-ADFF-7DDE35836AF1//
Interpreter version 1.3.5 / VM 3.1.2 / Library serial number 080126
Standard Rules version 3/120430 by Graham Nelson
Cragne Suite version 2 by Ryan Veeder (including Basic Screen Effects and Modified Exit by Emily Short, as well as modifications by Andrew Plotkin of Epistemology and Conversation Framework by Eric Eve)

Plus modified versions of:
Optimized Epistemology by Andrew Plotkin
Conversation Framework by Eric Eve

>* lucky 13!
That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later.

>l
Top of Stairs (Q. Pheevr)
You are at the top of a staircase, which leads down to Landing at the Bottom of Stairs (Mark Sample). An archway leads east.

On the north wall is a round white wall clock.

Standing against the west wall is a dilapidated kitchen sink with a pine cabinet under it.

>* Onward into the "hungry" archway
That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later.

>x archway
The archway to the east looks? hungry?

>* still hungry, seems fine
You seem to want to talk to someone, but I can't see whom.

>e

Upstairs Hall, north end (Jason Love)
Despite all the irregularities of Cragne Manor, the inconsistencies, the unaccountable changes, to say nothing of the disparate and clashing architecture and décor, you have at least attained a certain expectation regarding its hallways: close walls and high ceilings, wreathed in shadow, with the occasional door looming obelisk-like through the gloom. Its architects must have had crooked rulers, as you can never quite make out the end of a hallway until you've nearly reached it--and just such a hallway winds away to the south.

In this section of the hall, the eastern wall flares out into a wider space resembling a waiting-room; there's even a little bench against that wall to the south-east. A massive black armoire occupying the wall opposite strikes you as a less deliberate inclusion, if the boards sealing it shut are any indication; perhaps the movers abandoned it here after they couldn't fit it through the archway to the west. Beyond these minimal furnishings, the hall contains only a pair of imposing doors to the east and to the north; a third doorway between them has been closed off with bricks.

>* It was fine!
That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later.

>* Jason Love has written a number of games, largely from the early aughts but an interesting-sounding one from last year that's ind of about magazine quizzes?
You seem to want to talk to someone, but I can't see whom.

>* More importantly he was the first person other than me to post in this thread!
That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later.

>* lotta exits here
That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later.

>l
Upstairs Hall, north end (Jason Love)
Imposing wooden doors lead north and east ; a smaller doorway between them has been closed off with badly painted bricks. The top of the stairs is accessible through a narrow arch to the west, and the hall continues to the south.

A massive black armoire stands incongruously against the north-west wall, slightly at an angle. The boards sealing the armoire doors closed suggest that this particular object of furniture should have been removed prior to your arrival, but it's far too large to fit through the arch to the west.

>* whew, more compact (though I liked that opening)
You seem to want to talk to someone, but I can't see whom.

>x doorway
Cragne Manor has endured wars, flooding, blizzards, and any number of lesser catastrophes, but not without its scars. When so much of the house has required constant renovation, the occasional fire barely registers as calamitous. Before your move, Peter read to you about one such blaze which consumed this second-story bathroom in 1978, yet the adjoining rooms suffered almost no damage whatsoever. The family had reportedly spared no expense to repair the damage and restore the bathroom, but the room burned again less than a decade later. It appears that the surviving Cragnes elected to cut their losses this time.

The manor may have its voices: its creaking and squeaking floorboards, its groaning doors; but you have grown accustomed to the quiet ways it protests your presence. This relative silence is now shattered by the unmistakable sound of a clenched fist pounding at the front door downstairs.

>* oh, that's sudden!
You seem to want to talk to someone, but I can't see whom.

>* Huh, that's in the same voice as the rest of this room (which nicely presupposes some familiarity with the Manor)
You seem to want to talk to someone, but I can't see whom.

>open bricks
(loose bricks (smelling faintly of mildew))
They aren't something you can open.

The pounding at the front door continues, louder now. Was the front door even closed when last you saw it?

>* Yeah, pretty sure I closed it
You seem to want to talk to someone, but I can't see whom.

>* wonder if the pounding continues if I leave?
That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later.

>w

Top of Stairs (Q. Pheevr)
You are at the top of a staircase, which leads down to Landing at the Bottom of Stairs (Mark Sample). An archway leads east to Upstairs Hall, north end (Jason Love).

On the north wall is a round white wall clock.

Standing against the west wall is a dilapidated kitchen sink with a pine cabinet under it.

--and just as abruptly as it began, the knocking stops. Silence descends on Cragne Manor once more.

>* uh huh
That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later.

>e

Upstairs Hall, north end (Jason Love)
Imposing wooden doors lead north and east ; a smaller doorway between them has been closed off with badly painted bricks. The top of the stairs is accessible through a narrow arch to the west, and the hall continues to the south.

A massive black armoire stands sealed against the north-west wall.

>x bench
A spindly metal bench against the south-east wall.

>sit on bench
You get onto the metal bench.

>look under bench
You find nothing of interest.

>take bench
It's heavier than it looks.

>stand
You get off the metal bench.

Upstairs Hall, north end (Jason Love)
Imposing wooden doors lead north and east ; a smaller doorway between them has been closed off with badly painted bricks. The top of the stairs is accessible through a narrow arch to the west, and the hall continues to the south.

A massive black armoire stands sealed against the north-west wall.

>x doorway
A doorway smaller than those flanking it on either side, walled off entirely with bricks.

>open it
You can't very well open this brick wall.

>break it
Violence isn't the answer to this one.

>break wall
You can't see any such thing.

>* Given our track record with bathrooms, it's just as well
You seem to want to talk to someone, but I can't see whom.

>x armoire
The massive wardrobe is wider than you can reach with your arms extended. Weathered wooden boards have been nailed across the doors in four places.

>x boards
The massive wardrobe is wider than you can reach with your arms extended. Weathered wooden boards have been nailed across the doors in four places.

>take boards
It's too big, too heavy, and too nailed-shut to mess with right now.

>pull boards
It's too big, too heavy, and too nailed-shut to mess with right now.

>open armoure
You can't see any such thing.

>oops armoire
It's too big, too heavy, and too nailed-shut to mess with right now.

>push it
It's too big, too heavy, and too nailed-shut to mess with right now.

>* huh
That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later.

>x coffee
The swirls in your cup form a turducken. Images of strange hybrids mean that some challenges in your current environment can be defeated with what you already possess, while others will require outside assistance.

>x north
(the north door)
Smaller than the east door and finished with green lacquer, although the color has faded irregularly -- except in the center, where some gamboling farm-beast has been crudely depicted in white paint. The color would suggest it's supposed to be a sheep, except the horns (or are they ears?) make that identification doubtful.

>x beast
You can't see any such thing.

>x east
(the east door)
Astonishingly large and assembled of thick oak planks with iron banding and trim; the door glistens redly from a thick coat of shellac. This would almost be more suitable as an exterior door, but in place of a knocker, a Cragne family crest has been set into the wood with iron filigree. The handle is little more than a bent metal prong next to an oversized keyhole.

>x crest
During your engagement, you helped Peter track down a number of Cragne family crests for potential use in wedding livery: the Shattered Mast in Flames, the Moons" Eye upon the Tome, the Cup and Sword and Star--none that you've seen shared any resemblance to the crest embossed on this particular door in his ancestral home: a furred cloak girds a shield upon which the trunk of a severed tree impales a rampant lion, which is shown biting its raised leg. A banner beneath the shield reads "LIBERTÉ DE LA GORGE".

>* cool
That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later.

>* freedom of the throat?
That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later.

>open north
(the north door)
You open the north door.

>open east
(the east door)
The handle won't turn, and neither tugging nor pushing the door itself has any effect. It would seem the door is locked.

>unlock east with white key
(the east door with the white key)
That doesn't seem to fit the lock.

>x key
Which do you mean, the Allen key (smelling faintly of mildew), the thin steel key (smelling faintly of mildew), the white key, the key from an urn, the bronze key green from age (smelling faintly of mildew), the aluminum key (smelling faintly of mildew), the large brass key (smelling faintly of mildew) or the brass winding key (smelling faintly of mildew)?

>unlock east with bronze key
(the east door with the bronze key green from age (smelling faintly of mildew))
That doesn't seem to fit the lock.

>unlock east with thin steel key
(the east door with the thin steel key (smelling faintly of mildew))
That doesn't seem to fit the lock.

>unlock east with allen key
(the east door with the Allen key (smelling faintly of mildew))
That doesn't seem to fit the lock.

>unlock east with key from an urn
(the east door with the key from an urn)
That doesn't seem to fit the lock.

>unlock east with aluminum key
(the east door with the aluminum key (smelling faintly of mildew))
That doesn't seem to fit the lock.

>unlock east with large brass key
(the east door with the large brass key (smelling faintly of mildew))
That doesn't seem to fit the lock.

>unlock east with winding key
(the east door with the brass winding key (smelling faintly of mildew))
That doesn't seem to fit the lock.

>* Well, there's our challenge that can't be overcome
You seem to want to talk to someone, but I can't see whom.

>x boards
The massive wardrobe is wider than you can reach with your arms extended. Weathered wooden boards have been nailed across the doors in four places.

>pull boards
It's too big, too heavy, and too nailed-shut to mess with right now.

>x places
You can't see any such thing.

>se
You can't go that way.

>e
(first opening the east door)
The handle won't turn, and neither tugging nor pushing the door itself has any effect. It would seem the door is locked.

>* I want to drop something
That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later.

>w

Top of Stairs (Q. Pheevr)
You are at the top of a staircase, which leads down to Landing at the Bottom of Stairs (Mark Sample). An archway leads east to Upstairs Hall, north end (Jason Love).

On the north wall is a round white wall clock.

Standing against the west wall is a dilapidated kitchen sink with a pine cabinet under it.

>drop everything except coffee
piece of chalk (smelling faintly of mildew): Dropped.
mate of the first leather boot (smelling faintly of mildew): Dropped.
old paperback book (smelling faintly of mildew): Dropped.
old newspaper (smelling faintly of mildew): Dropped.
metal flask (smelling faintly of mildew): Dropped.
Allen key (smelling faintly of mildew): Dropped.
brass nameplate (smelling faintly of mildew): Dropped.
broken knife handle (smelling faintly of mildew): Dropped.
thin steel key (smelling faintly of mildew): Dropped.
torn notebook (smelling faintly of mildew): Dropped.
pink-bound book: Dropped.
pinch of snail paste (smelling faintly of mildew): You drop the pinch of snail paste (smelling faintly of mildew) and it disappears.
pinch of pepper: You drop the pinch of pepper and it disappears.
total of two grains of salt (smelling faintly of mildew): You drop the salt, and it disappears.
pinch of cardamom (smelling faintly of mildew): You drop the pinch of cardamom (smelling faintly of mildew) and it disappears.
pinch of cinnamon (smelling faintly of mildew): You drop the pinch of cinnamon (smelling faintly of mildew) and it disappears.
pinch of cardamom (smelling faintly of mildew): You drop the pinch of cardamom (smelling faintly of mildew) and it disappears.
pinch of turmeric (smelling faintly of mildew): You drop the pinch of turmeric (smelling faintly of mildew) and it disappears.
pinch of garlic: You drop the pinch of garlic and it disappears.
pinch of saffron (smelling faintly of mildew): You drop the pinch of saffron (smelling faintly of mildew) and it disappears.
Italian magazine cutting (smelling faintly of mildew): Dropped.
De Zeven Testamenten van de Krijsende Zeeworm (smelling faintly of mildew): Dropped.
police report ("Francine Cragne"): Dropped.
newspaper clipping ("Rumors of Decapitations") (smelling faintly of mildew): Dropped.
note from a seesaw (smelling faintly of mildew): Dropped.
stone earplugs (smelling faintly of mildew): Dropped.
shard (smelling faintly of mildew): Dropped.
broken silver amulet: Dropped.
Mama Hydra's Deep Fried Ones (smelling faintly of mildew): Dropped.
A Culinary Overview of Superstitions in the Miskaton Valley Region by S. Jarret Zornwharf (smelling faintly of mildew): Dropped.
Hyper-Gastronomy, Exactness, and String Theory: a Theoretical Subdiscipline of Cooking and Baking by Chef Wheldrake (smelling faintly of mildew): Dropped.
red-rimmed porcelain plates (smelling faintly of mildew): Dropped.
red-rimmed porcelain cups (smelling faintly of mildew): Dropped.
white key: Dropped.
The Lives of the Roman Emperors (smelling faintly of mildew): Dropped.
pewter box (smelling faintly of mildew): Dropped.
dull machete (smelling faintly of mildew): Dropped.
slip of paper (smelling faintly of mildew): Dropped.
rotten flowers (smelling faintly of mildew): Dropped.
copper urn (smelling faintly of mildew): Dropped.
silver urn (smelling faintly of mildew): Dropped.
bronze urn (smelling faintly of mildew): Dropped.
key from an urn: Dropped.
mildewed leather gloves: Dropped.
a gallon jug of white vinegar (smelling faintly of mildew): Dropped.
pair of garden shears (smelling faintly of mildew): Dropped.
bronze key green from age (smelling faintly of mildew): Dropped.
a rusty flathead screwdriver (smelling faintly of mildew): Dropped.
teapot (smelling faintly of mildew): Fortunately, the valuable antique lands without incident.
single brown leather boot (smelling faintly of mildew): Dropped.
pair of blue cloth slippers (smelling faintly of mildew): Dropped.
trophy for a dog race (smelling faintly of mildew): Dropped.
glass shard (smelling faintly of mildew): Dropped.
black business card: Dropped.
aluminum key (smelling faintly of mildew): Dropped.
loose bricks (smelling faintly of mildew): Dropped.
clipboard: Dropped.
yellowed newspapers (smelling faintly of mildew): Dropped.
shard of shattered carapace (smelling faintly of mildew): Dropped.
employee ID card (smelling faintly of mildew): Dropped.
book list (smelling faintly of mildew): Dropped.
soggy tome (smelling faintly of mildew): Dropped.
Carfax gig poster: Dropped.

> e

Upstairs Hall, north end (Jason Love)
Imposing wooden doors lead north (which is open) and east ; a smaller doorway between them has been closed off with badly painted bricks. The top of the stairs is accessible through a narrow arch to the west, and the hall continues to the south.

A massive black armoire stands sealed against the north-west wall.

>x coffee
The swirls in your cup form a jackalope. Images of strange hybrids mean that some challenges in your current environment can be defeated with what you already possess, while others will require outside assistance.

>i
You are carrying:
  the second candle (smelling faintly of mildew)
  the first candle (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a well-dressed ghost (haunting you) (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a long hooked pole
  a grimy rock (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a library card (smelling faintly of mildew)
  Peter's jacket (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a backpack features guide (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a trolley schedule (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a Jansport backpack (open)
    a hidden pocket (open but empty)
    a key pocket (open but empty)
    a book pocket (open but empty)
    a side pocket (open but empty)
    a trash pocket (closed)
  a pamphlet of home listings (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a moldy, waterlogged journal (smelling faintly of mildew)
  an antique locket (smelling faintly of mildew) (closed)
  a cast iron spire (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a wad of cash (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a repaired page (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a waterproof flashlight (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a tiny leather journal (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a large brass key (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a filthy rug (smelling faintly of mildew)
  Daniel Baker's note (smelling faintly of mildew)
  the diary of Phyllis Cragne (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a postcard of Big Ben (smelling faintly of mildew)
  The Modern Girl's Divination Handbook -- Volume Three (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a pull-string doll (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a label (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a giant milkweed leaf (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a glass jar containing an insect (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a half-full styrofoam coffee cup
  a plastic bubble (open but empty)
  a familiar gold wristwatch (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a brass winding key (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a small blue journal (which you know is a journal because it says "Mein Journal" on the front) (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a bottle of Pepto-Bismol (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a calfskin coat (being worn)
  a trolley pass (being worn)
  a gold jacket (being worn)
  Ed's coveralls (being worn)

>* Er, why didn't this get dropped?
You seem to want to talk to someone, but I can't see whom.

>w

Top of Stairs (Q. Pheevr)
You are at the top of a staircase, which leads down to Landing at the Bottom of Stairs (Mark Sample). An archway leads east to Upstairs Hall, north end (Jason Love).

On the north wall is a round white wall clock.

Standing against the west wall is a dilapidated kitchen sink with a pine cabinet under it.

You can also see a Carfax gig poster, a soggy tome (smelling faintly of mildew), a book list (smelling faintly of mildew), an employee ID card (smelling faintly of mildew), a shard of shattered carapace (smelling faintly of mildew), some yellowed newspapers (smelling faintly of mildew), a clipboard, loose bricks (smelling faintly of mildew), an aluminum key (smelling faintly of mildew), a black business card, a glass shard (smelling faintly of mildew), a trophy for a dog race (smelling faintly of mildew), a pair of blue cloth slippers (smelling faintly of mildew), a teapot (smelling faintly of mildew), a rusty flathead screwdriver (smelling faintly of mildew), a bronze key green from age (smelling faintly of mildew), a pair of garden shears (smelling faintly of mildew), a gallon jug of white vinegar (smelling faintly of mildew), some mildewed leather gloves, a key from an urn, a bronze urn (smelling faintly of mildew) (empty), a silver urn (smelling faintly of mildew) (empty), a copper urn (smelling faintly of mildew) (empty), some rotten flowers (smelling faintly of mildew), a slip of paper (smelling faintly of mildew), a dull machete (smelling faintly of mildew), a pewter box (smelling faintly of mildew) (empty), The Lives of the Roman Emperors (smelling faintly of mildew), a white key, red-rimmed porcelain cups (smelling faintly of mildew), red-rimmed porcelain plates (smelling faintly of mildew), Hyper-Gastronomy, Exactness, and String Theory: a Theoretical Subdiscipline of Cooking and Baking by Chef Wheldrake (smelling faintly of mildew), A Culinary Overview of Superstitions in the Miskaton Valley Region by S. Jarret Zornwharf (smelling faintly of mildew), Mama Hydra's Deep Fried Ones (smelling faintly of mildew), a broken silver amulet, a shard (smelling faintly of mildew), a pair of stone earplugs (smelling faintly of mildew), a note from a seesaw (smelling faintly of mildew), a newspaper clipping ("Rumors of Decapitations") (smelling faintly of mildew), a police report ("Francine Cragne"), De Zeven Testamenten van de Krijsende Zeeworm (smelling faintly of mildew), an Italian magazine cutting (smelling faintly of mildew), a pink-bound book, a torn notebook (smelling faintly of mildew), a thin steel key (smelling faintly of mildew), a broken knife handle (smelling faintly of mildew), a brass nameplate (smelling faintly of mildew), an Allen key (smelling faintly of mildew), a metal flask (smelling faintly of mildew), an old newspaper (smelling faintly of mildew), an old paperback book (smelling faintly of mildew), a piece of chalk (smelling faintly of mildew) and a pair of leather boots here.

>drop all
long hooked pole: Dropped.
grimy rock (smelling faintly of mildew): Dropped.
library card (smelling faintly of mildew): Dropped.
Peter's jacket (smelling faintly of mildew): Dropped.
backpack features guide (smelling faintly of mildew): Dropped.
trolley schedule (smelling faintly of mildew): Dropped.
Jansport backpack: Dropped.

>i
You are carrying:
  the second candle (smelling faintly of mildew)
  the first candle (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a well-dressed ghost (haunting you) (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a pamphlet of home listings (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a moldy, waterlogged journal (smelling faintly of mildew)
  an antique locket (smelling faintly of mildew) (closed)
  a cast iron spire (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a wad of cash (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a repaired page (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a waterproof flashlight (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a tiny leather journal (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a large brass key (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a filthy rug (smelling faintly of mildew)
  Daniel Baker's note (smelling faintly of mildew)
  the diary of Phyllis Cragne (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a postcard of Big Ben (smelling faintly of mildew)
  The Modern Girl's Divination Handbook -- Volume Three (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a pull-string doll (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a label (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a giant milkweed leaf (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a glass jar containing an insect (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a half-full styrofoam coffee cup
  a plastic bubble (open but empty)
  a familiar gold wristwatch (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a brass winding key (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a small blue journal (which you know is a journal because it says "Mein Journal" on the front) (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a bottle of Pepto-Bismol (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a calfskin coat (being worn)
  a trolley pass (being worn)
  a gold jacket (being worn)
  Ed's coveralls (being worn)

> drop all
What do you want to drop those things in?

>ground
You can't use multiple objects with that verb.

>i
You are carrying:
  the second candle (smelling faintly of mildew)
  the first candle (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a well-dressed ghost (haunting you) (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a pamphlet of home listings (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a moldy, waterlogged journal (smelling faintly of mildew)
  an antique locket (smelling faintly of mildew) (closed)
  a cast iron spire (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a wad of cash (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a repaired page (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a waterproof flashlight (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a tiny leather journal (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a large brass key (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a filthy rug (smelling faintly of mildew)
  Daniel Baker's note (smelling faintly of mildew)
  the diary of Phyllis Cragne (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a postcard of Big Ben (smelling faintly of mildew)
  The Modern Girl's Divination Handbook -- Volume Three (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a pull-string doll (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a label (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a giant milkweed leaf (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a glass jar containing an insect (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a half-full styrofoam coffee cup
  a plastic bubble (open but empty)
  a familiar gold wristwatch (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a brass winding key (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a small blue journal (which you know is a journal because it says "Mein Journal" on the front) (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a bottle of Pepto-Bismol (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a calfskin coat (being worn)
  a trolley pass (being worn)
  a gold jacket (being worn)
  Ed's coveralls (being worn)

>drop candle
Which do you mean, the second candle (smelling faintly of mildew) or the first candle (smelling faintly of mildew)?

>both
the second candle (smelling faintly of mildew): Dropped.
the first candle (smelling faintly of mildew): Dropped.

>i
You are carrying:
  a well-dressed ghost (haunting you) (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a pamphlet of home listings (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a moldy, waterlogged journal (smelling faintly of mildew)
  an antique locket (smelling faintly of mildew) (closed)
  a cast iron spire (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a wad of cash (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a repaired page (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a waterproof flashlight (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a tiny leather journal (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a large brass key (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a filthy rug (smelling faintly of mildew)
  Daniel Baker's note (smelling faintly of mildew)
  the diary of Phyllis Cragne (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a postcard of Big Ben (smelling faintly of mildew)
  The Modern Girl's Divination Handbook -- Volume Three (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a pull-string doll (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a label (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a giant milkweed leaf (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a glass jar containing an insect (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a half-full styrofoam coffee cup
  a plastic bubble (open but empty)
  a familiar gold wristwatch (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a brass winding key (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a small blue journal (which you know is a journal because it says "Mein Journal" on the front) (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a bottle of Pepto-Bismol (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a calfskin coat (being worn)
  a trolley pass (being worn)
  a gold jacket (being worn)
  Ed's coveralls (being worn)

>x ghost
(the Ghost Libation Legend)
The Lonesome Keen Serves One

Ingredients: 1 part cold gin 2 parts warm apple cider 1 pinch cinnamon 8 grains salt

Instructions: "It alls means something, thids drink. My great-grandfather... a Cragne! Keening Ken Cragne! Through from the... to the top. Is he here now? Is he dead? (laughs) And we remember wha (unintelligible) Kenneth Cragne! It all meanses something... listen to me... listen... Two parts cider, yeah? Because two days outta three, ol" Ken Cragne put cider in his flask! Calm days, they say. My dad said thad. Calm Ken days... Calm. But I wasn't alive then I don't (unintelligible.) But still I remember the gin days, you know? I shouldn't remember 'em right? Because that's crazy, right? (laughs) Why do I remember Ken Bastard Cragnes cold gin days, huh? Thas weird, right? My grandpa's the only kid of nine to like... Hold on okay. Lemme EXPLAIN the DRINK. The pinch of cinn- of cinnda- the punch a cibadon... cinnamon. That's Ken's lonely work! Train conductor, and actually the only one in my family to do that particular occupation. Big money becauss he smuggled cinner... cinn... he smuggled lots of things actually. They'd all be dead by now anyways, right? (unintelligible) What were we talking about? Oh! Oh god! EIGHT GRAINS OF SALT! EXACT! PRECISE OR HE DOES THE THING OKAY? Eight kids eight grains eight bloody brains. I would sing thadt. Perfect or Ken... Ken is here right now, right? Don't tell him I said- he just dead but he's here... He usedta beat up my mom and dad... after they died! I don't know knowww whyyy. We Cragne's got space in our blood. Space times. Very dignified, do you hear me? Very dignified! That's the name. That's hell. LISTEN TO (unintelligible) dig... we got.. we... please...

>drop ghost
(the well-dressed ghost (smelling faintly of mildew))
It's not quite so easy to rid oneself of a haunting presence.

>i
You are carrying:
  a well-dressed ghost (haunting you) (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a pamphlet of home listings (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a moldy, waterlogged journal (smelling faintly of mildew)
  an antique locket (smelling faintly of mildew) (closed)
  a cast iron spire (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a wad of cash (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a repaired page (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a waterproof flashlight (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a tiny leather journal (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a large brass key (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a filthy rug (smelling faintly of mildew)
  Daniel Baker's note (smelling faintly of mildew)
  the diary of Phyllis Cragne (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a postcard of Big Ben (smelling faintly of mildew)
  The Modern Girl's Divination Handbook -- Volume Three (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a pull-string doll (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a label (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a giant milkweed leaf (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a glass jar containing an insect (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a half-full styrofoam coffee cup
  a plastic bubble (open but empty)
  a familiar gold wristwatch (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a brass winding key (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a small blue journal (which you know is a journal because it says "Mein Journal" on the front) (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a bottle of Pepto-Bismol (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a calfskin coat (being worn)
  a trolley pass (being worn)
  a gold jacket (being worn)
  Ed's coveralls (being worn)

>drop pamphlet
Dropped.

>i
You are carrying:
  a well-dressed ghost (haunting you) (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a moldy, waterlogged journal (smelling faintly of mildew)
  an antique locket (smelling faintly of mildew) (closed)
  a cast iron spire (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a wad of cash (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a repaired page (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a waterproof flashlight (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a tiny leather journal (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a large brass key (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a filthy rug (smelling faintly of mildew)
  Daniel Baker's note (smelling faintly of mildew)
  the diary of Phyllis Cragne (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a postcard of Big Ben (smelling faintly of mildew)
  The Modern Girl's Divination Handbook -- Volume Three (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a pull-string doll (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a label (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a giant milkweed leaf (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a glass jar containing an insect (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a half-full styrofoam coffee cup
  a plastic bubble (open but empty)
  a familiar gold wristwatch (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a brass winding key (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a small blue journal (which you know is a journal because it says "Mein Journal" on the front) (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a bottle of Pepto-Bismol (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a calfskin coat (being worn)
  a trolley pass (being worn)
  a gold jacket (being worn)
  Ed's coveralls (being worn)

>drop journal
Which do you mean, the moldy, waterlogged journal (smelling faintly of mildew), the tiny leather journal (smelling faintly of mildew) or the small blue journal (which you know is a journal because it says "Mein Journal" on the front) (smelling faintly of mildew)?

>all
moldy, waterlogged journal (smelling faintly of mildew): Dropped.
tiny leather journal (smelling faintly of mildew): Dropped.
small blue journal (which you know is a journal because it says "Mein Journal" on the front) (smelling faintly of mildew): Dropped.

>drop coat
(first taking the calfskin coat off)
Dropped.

>drop jacket
(the gold jacket)
(first taking the gold jacket off)
Dropped.

>drop coveralls
(first taking Ed's coveralls off)
Dropped.

>
I beg your pardon?

>l
Top of Stairs (Q. Pheevr)
You are at the top of a staircase, which leads down to Landing at the Bottom of Stairs (Mark Sample). An archway leads east to Upstairs Hall, north end (Jason Love).

On the north wall is a round white wall clock.

Standing against the west wall is a dilapidated kitchen sink with a pine cabinet under it.

You can also see Ed's coveralls, a gold jacket, a calfskin coat, a small blue journal (which you know is a journal because it says "Mein Journal" on the front) (smelling faintly of mildew), a tiny leather journal (smelling faintly of mildew), a moldy, waterlogged journal (smelling faintly of mildew), a pamphlet of home listings (smelling faintly of mildew), the first candle (smelling faintly of mildew), the second candle (smelling faintly of mildew), a Jansport backpack (in which are a hidden pocket (empty), a key pocket (empty), a book pocket (empty), a side pocket (empty) and a trash pocket (closed)), a trolley schedule (smelling faintly of mildew), a backpack features guide (smelling faintly of mildew), Peter's jacket (smelling faintly of mildew), a library card (smelling faintly of mildew), a grimy rock (smelling faintly of mildew), a long hooked pole, a Carfax gig poster, a soggy tome (smelling faintly of mildew), a book list (smelling faintly of mildew), an employee ID card (smelling faintly of mildew), a shard of shattered carapace (smelling faintly of mildew), some yellowed newspapers (smelling faintly of mildew), a clipboard, loose bricks (smelling faintly of mildew), an aluminum key (smelling faintly of mildew), a black business card, a glass shard (smelling faintly of mildew), a trophy for a dog race (smelling faintly of mildew), a pair of blue cloth slippers (smelling faintly of mildew), a teapot (smelling faintly of mildew), a rusty flathead screwdriver (smelling faintly of mildew), a bronze key green from age (smelling faintly of mildew), a pair of garden shears (smelling faintly of mildew), a gallon jug of white vinegar (smelling faintly of mildew), some mildewed leather gloves, a key from an urn, a bronze urn (smelling faintly of mildew) (empty), a silver urn (smelling faintly of mildew) (empty), a copper urn (smelling faintly of mildew) (empty), some rotten flowers (smelling faintly of mildew), a slip of paper (smelling faintly of mildew), a dull machete (smelling faintly of mildew), a pewter box (smelling faintly of mildew) (empty), The Lives of the Roman Emperors (smelling faintly of mildew), a white key, red-rimmed porcelain cups (smelling faintly of mildew), red-rimmed porcelain plates (smelling faintly of mildew), Hyper-Gastronomy, Exactness, and String Theory: a Theoretical Subdiscipline of Cooking and Baking by Chef Wheldrake (smelling faintly of mildew), A Culinary Overview of Superstitions in the Miskaton Valley Region by S. Jarret Zornwharf (smelling faintly of mildew), Mama Hydra's Deep Fried Ones (smelling faintly of mildew), a broken silver amulet, a shard (smelling faintly of mildew), a pair of stone earplugs (smelling faintly of mildew), a note from a seesaw (smelling faintly of mildew), a newspaper clipping ("Rumors of Decapitations") (smelling faintly of mildew), a police report ("Francine Cragne"), De Zeven Testamenten van de Krijsende Zeeworm (smelling faintly of mildew), an Italian magazine cutting (smelling faintly of mildew), a pink-bound book, a torn notebook (smelling faintly of mildew), a thin steel key (smelling faintly of mildew), a broken knife handle (smelling faintly of mildew), a brass nameplate (smelling faintly of mildew), an Allen key (smelling faintly of mildew), a metal flask (smelling faintly of mildew), an old newspaper (smelling faintly of mildew), an old paperback book (smelling faintly of mildew), a piece of chalk (smelling faintly of mildew) and a pair of leather boots here.

>i
You are carrying:
  a well-dressed ghost (haunting you) (smelling faintly of mildew)
  an antique locket (smelling faintly of mildew) (closed)
  a cast iron spire (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a wad of cash (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a repaired page (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a waterproof flashlight (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a large brass key (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a filthy rug (smelling faintly of mildew)
  Daniel Baker's note (smelling faintly of mildew)
  the diary of Phyllis Cragne (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a postcard of Big Ben (smelling faintly of mildew)
  The Modern Girl's Divination Handbook -- Volume Three (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a pull-string doll (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a label (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a giant milkweed leaf (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a glass jar containing an insect (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a half-full styrofoam coffee cup
  a plastic bubble (smelling faintly of mildew) (open but empty)
  a familiar gold wristwatch (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a brass winding key (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a bottle of Pepto-Bismol (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a trolley pass (being worn)

>drop locket and spire and cash and page and flashlight
antique locket (smelling faintly of mildew): Dropped.
cast iron spire (smelling faintly of mildew): Dropped.
wad of cash (smelling faintly of mildew): Dropped.
repaired page (smelling faintly of mildew): Dropped.
waterproof flashlight (smelling faintly of mildew): Dropped.

>drop book
Which do you mean, the small blue journal (which you know is a journal because it says "Mein Journal" on the front) (smelling faintly of mildew), the tiny leather journal (smelling faintly of mildew), the moldy, waterlogged journal (smelling faintly of mildew), the soggy tome (smelling faintly of mildew), The Lives of the Roman Emperors (smelling faintly of mildew), Hyper-Gastronomy, Exactness, and String Theory: a Theoretical Subdiscipline of Cooking and Baking by Chef Wheldrake (smelling faintly of mildew), A Culinary Overview of Superstitions in the Miskaton Valley Region by S. Jarret Zornwharf (smelling faintly of mildew), Mama Hydra's Deep Fried Ones (smelling faintly of mildew), De Zeven Testamenten van de Krijsende Zeeworm (smelling faintly of mildew), the pink-bound book, the old newspaper (smelling faintly of mildew), the old paperback book (smelling faintly of mildew), the diary of Phyllis Cragne (smelling faintly of mildew), the postcard of Big Ben (smelling faintly of mildew) or The Modern Girl's Divination Handbook -- Volume Three (smelling faintly of mildew)?

>all
small blue journal (which you know is a journal because it says "Mein Journal" on the front) (smelling faintly of mildew): The small blue journal (which you know is a journal because it says "Mein Journal" on the front) (smelling faintly of mildew) is already here.
tiny leather journal (smelling faintly of mildew): The tiny leather journal (smelling faintly of mildew) is already here.
moldy, waterlogged journal (smelling faintly of mildew): The moldy, waterlogged journal (smelling faintly of mildew) is already here.
soggy tome (smelling faintly of mildew): The soggy tome (smelling faintly of mildew) is already here.
The Lives of the Roman Emperors (smelling faintly of mildew): The Lives of the Roman Emperors (smelling faintly of mildew) is already here.
Hyper-Gastronomy, Exactness, and String Theory: a Theoretical Subdiscipline of Cooking and Baking by Chef Wheldrake (smelling faintly of mildew): Hyper-Gastronomy, Exactness, and String Theory: a Theoretical Subdiscipline of Cooking and Baking by Chef Wheldrake (smelling faintly of mildew) is already here.
A Culinary Overview of Superstitions in the Miskaton Valley Region by S. Jarret Zornwharf (smelling faintly of mildew): A Culinary Overview of Superstitions in the Miskaton Valley Region by S. Jarret Zornwharf (smelling faintly of mildew) is already here.
Mama Hydra's Deep Fried Ones (smelling faintly of mildew): Mama Hydra's Deep Fried Ones (smelling faintly of mildew) is already here.
De Zeven Testamenten van de Krijsende Zeeworm (smelling faintly of mildew): De Zeven Testamenten van de Krijsende Zeeworm (smelling faintly of mildew) is already here.
pink-bound book: The pink-bound book is already here.
old newspaper (smelling faintly of mildew): The old newspaper (smelling faintly of mildew) is already here.
old paperback book (smelling faintly of mildew): The old paperback book (smelling faintly of mildew) is already here.
diary of Phyllis Cragne (smelling faintly of mildew): Dropped.
postcard of Big Ben (smelling faintly of mildew): Dropped.
The Modern Girl's Divination Handbook -- Volume Three (smelling faintly of mildew): Dropped.

>i
You are carrying:
  a well-dressed ghost (haunting you) (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a large brass key (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a filthy rug (smelling faintly of mildew)
  Daniel Baker's note (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a pull-string doll (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a label (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a giant milkweed leaf (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a glass jar containing an insect (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a half-full styrofoam coffee cup
  a plastic bubble (smelling faintly of mildew) (open but empty)
  a familiar gold wristwatch (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a brass winding key (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a bottle of Pepto-Bismol (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a trolley pass (being worn)

>drop key
Which do you mean, the aluminum key (smelling faintly of mildew), the bronze key green from age (smelling faintly of mildew), the key from an urn, the white key, the thin steel key (smelling faintly of mildew), the Allen key (smelling faintly of mildew), the large brass key (smelling faintly of mildew) or the brass winding key (smelling faintly of mildew)?

>all
aluminum key (smelling faintly of mildew): The aluminum key (smelling faintly of mildew) is already here.
bronze key green from age (smelling faintly of mildew): The bronze key green from age (smelling faintly of mildew) is already here.
key from an urn: The key from an urn is already here.
white key: The white key is already here.
thin steel key (smelling faintly of mildew): The thin steel key (smelling faintly of mildew) is already here.
Allen key (smelling faintly of mildew): The Allen key (smelling faintly of mildew) is already here.
large brass key (smelling faintly of mildew): Dropped.
brass winding key (smelling faintly of mildew): Dropped.

>i
You are carrying:
  a well-dressed ghost (haunting you) (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a filthy rug (smelling faintly of mildew)
  Daniel Baker's note (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a pull-string doll (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a label (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a giant milkweed leaf (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a glass jar containing an insect (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a half-full styrofoam coffee cup
  a plastic bubble (smelling faintly of mildew) (open but empty)
  a familiar gold wristwatch (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a bottle of Pepto-Bismol (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a trolley pass (being worn)

>drop leaf and label and doll and rug and note and jar and bubble and watch and bottle and pass
giant milkweed leaf (smelling faintly of mildew): Dropped.
label (smelling faintly of mildew): Dropped.
pull-string doll (smelling faintly of mildew): Dropped.
filthy rug (smelling faintly of mildew): Dropped.
Daniel Baker's note (smelling faintly of mildew): Dropped.
glass jar containing an insect (smelling faintly of mildew): Dropped.
plastic bubble (smelling faintly of mildew): Dropped.
familiar gold wristwatch (smelling faintly of mildew): Dropped.
bottle of Pepto-Bismol (smelling faintly of mildew): Dropped.
trolley pass: (first taking the trolley pass off)
Dropped.

>i
You are carrying:
  a well-dressed ghost (haunting you) (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a half-full styrofoam coffee cup

>e

Upstairs Hall, north end (Jason Love)
Imposing wooden doors lead north (which is open) and east ; a smaller doorway between them has been closed off with badly painted bricks. The top of the stairs is accessible through a narrow arch to the west, and the hall continues to the south.

A massive black armoire stands sealed against the north-west wall.

>x coffee
The swirls in your cup form a peanut butter cup. Images of strange hybrids mean that some challenges in your current environment can be defeated with what you already possess, while others will require outside assistance.

>* Ah, not sure whether that means I need my inventory or not -- was wondering if that's a way to get a better clue
You seem to want to talk to someone, but I can't see whom.

>w

Top of Stairs (Q. Pheevr)
You are at the top of a staircase, which leads down to Landing at the Bottom of Stairs (Mark Sample). An archway leads east to Upstairs Hall, north end (Jason Love).

On the north wall is a round white wall clock.

Standing against the west wall is a dilapidated kitchen sink with a pine cabinet under it.

You can also see a trolley pass, a bottle of Pepto-Bismol (smelling faintly of mildew), a familiar gold wristwatch (smelling faintly of mildew), a plastic bubble (smelling faintly of mildew) (empty), a glass jar containing an insect (smelling faintly of mildew), Daniel Baker's note (smelling faintly of mildew), a filthy rug (smelling faintly of mildew), a pull-string doll (smelling faintly of mildew), a label (smelling faintly of mildew), a giant milkweed leaf (smelling faintly of mildew), a brass winding key (smelling faintly of mildew), a large brass key (smelling faintly of mildew), The Modern Girl's Divination Handbook -- Volume Three (smelling faintly of mildew), a postcard of Big Ben (smelling faintly of mildew), the diary of Phyllis Cragne (smelling faintly of mildew), a waterproof flashlight (smelling faintly of mildew), a repaired page (smelling faintly of mildew), a wad of cash (smelling faintly of mildew), a cast iron spire (smelling faintly of mildew), an antique locket (smelling faintly of mildew) (closed), Ed's coveralls, a gold jacket, a calfskin coat, a small blue journal (which you know is a journal because it says "Mein Journal" on the front) (smelling faintly of mildew), a tiny leather journal (smelling faintly of mildew), a moldy, waterlogged journal (smelling faintly of mildew), a pamphlet of home listings (smelling faintly of mildew), the first candle (smelling faintly of mildew), the second candle (smelling faintly of mildew), a Jansport backpack (in which are a hidden pocket (empty), a key pocket (empty), a book pocket (empty), a side pocket (empty) and a trash pocket (closed)), a trolley schedule (smelling faintly of mildew), a backpack features guide (smelling faintly of mildew), Peter's jacket (smelling faintly of mildew), a library card (smelling faintly of mildew), a grimy rock (smelling faintly of mildew), a long hooked pole, a Carfax gig poster, a soggy tome (smelling faintly of mildew), a book list (smelling faintly of mildew), an employee ID card (smelling faintly of mildew), a shard of shattered carapace (smelling faintly of mildew), some yellowed newspapers (smelling faintly of mildew), a clipboard, loose bricks (smelling faintly of mildew), an aluminum key (smelling faintly of mildew), a black business card, a glass shard (smelling faintly of mildew), a trophy for a dog race (smelling faintly of mildew), a pair of blue cloth slippers (smelling faintly of mildew), a teapot (smelling faintly of mildew), a rusty flathead screwdriver (smelling faintly of mildew), a bronze key green from age (smelling faintly of mildew), a pair of garden shears (smelling faintly of mildew), a gallon jug of white vinegar (smelling faintly of mildew), some mildewed leather gloves, a key from an urn, a bronze urn (smelling faintly of mildew) (empty), a silver urn (smelling faintly of mildew) (empty), a copper urn (smelling faintly of mildew) (empty), some rotten flowers (smelling faintly of mildew), a slip of paper (smelling faintly of mildew), a dull machete (smelling faintly of mildew), a pewter box (smelling faintly of mildew) (empty), The Lives of the Roman Emperors (smelling faintly of mildew), a white key, red-rimmed porcelain cups (smelling faintly of mildew), red-rimmed porcelain plates (smelling faintly of mildew), Hyper-Gastronomy, Exactness, and String Theory: a Theoretical Subdiscipline of Cooking and Baking by Chef Wheldrake (smelling faintly of mildew), A Culinary Overview of Superstitions in the Miskaton Valley Region by S. Jarret Zornwharf (smelling faintly of mildew), Mama Hydra's Deep Fried Ones (smelling faintly of mildew), a broken silver amulet, a shard (smelling faintly of mildew), a pair of stone earplugs (smelling faintly of mildew), a note from a seesaw (smelling faintly of mildew), a newspaper clipping ("Rumors of Decapitations") (smelling faintly of mildew), a police report ("Francine Cragne"), De Zeven Testamenten van de Krijsende Zeeworm (smelling faintly of mildew), an Italian magazine cutting (smelling faintly of mildew), a pink-bound book, a torn notebook (smelling faintly of mildew), a thin steel key (smelling faintly of mildew), a broken knife handle (smelling faintly of mildew), a brass nameplate (smelling faintly of mildew), an Allen key (smelling faintly of mildew), a metal flask (smelling faintly of mildew), an old newspaper (smelling faintly of mildew), an old paperback book (smelling faintly of mildew), a piece of chalk (smelling faintly of mildew) and a pair of leather boots here.

A ghastly spectral cuckoo flies out of the round white wall clock and proclaims, "The time is now eight o'clock!" before vanishing into thin air.

>take all
pamphlet of home listings (smelling faintly of mildew): Taken.

trolley pass: Taken.

bottle of Pepto-Bismol (smelling faintly of mildew): Taken.

familiar gold wristwatch (smelling faintly of mildew): Taken.

plastic bubble (smelling faintly of mildew): Taken.

glass jar containing an insect (smelling faintly of mildew): Taken.

Daniel Baker's note (smelling faintly of mildew): Taken.

filthy rug (smelling faintly of mildew): If you insist.  Taken.
pull-string doll (smelling faintly of mildew): Taken.

label (smelling faintly of mildew): Taken.

giant milkweed leaf (smelling faintly of mildew): Taken.

brass winding key (smelling faintly of mildew): Taken.

large brass key (smelling faintly of mildew): Taken.

The Modern Girl's Divination Handbook -- Volume Three (smelling faintly of mildew): Taken.

postcard of Big Ben (smelling faintly of mildew): Taken.

diary of Phyllis Cragne (smelling faintly of mildew): Taken.

waterproof flashlight (smelling faintly of mildew): Taken.

repaired page (smelling faintly of mildew): Taken.

wad of cash (smelling faintly of mildew): Taken.

cast iron spire (smelling faintly of mildew): Taken.

antique locket (smelling faintly of mildew): Taken.

Ed's coveralls: Taken.

gold jacket: Taken.

calfskin coat: Taken.

small blue journal (which you know is a journal because it says "Mein Journal" on the front) (smelling faintly of mildew): Taken.

tiny leather journal (smelling faintly of mildew): Taken.

moldy, waterlogged journal (smelling faintly of mildew): Taken.

the first candle (smelling faintly of mildew): Taken.

the second candle (smelling faintly of mildew): Taken.

Jansport backpack: Taken.

trolley schedule (smelling faintly of mildew): Taken.

backpack features guide (smelling faintly of mildew): Taken.

Peter's jacket (smelling faintly of mildew): Taken.

library card (smelling faintly of mildew): Taken.

grimy rock (smelling faintly of mildew): Taken.

long hooked pole: Taken.

soggy tome (smelling faintly of mildew): Taken.

book list (smelling faintly of mildew): Taken.

employee ID card (smelling faintly of mildew): Taken.

shard of shattered carapace (smelling faintly of mildew): Taken.

yellowed newspapers (smelling faintly of mildew): Taken.

clipboard: Taken.

loose bricks (smelling faintly of mildew): Taken.

aluminum key (smelling faintly of mildew): Taken.

black business card: Taken.

glass shard (smelling faintly of mildew): Taken.

trophy for a dog race (smelling faintly of mildew): Taken.

pair of blue cloth slippers (smelling faintly of mildew): Taken.

teapot (smelling faintly of mildew): Taken.

a rusty flathead screwdriver (smelling faintly of mildew): Taken.

bronze key green from age (smelling faintly of mildew): Taken.

pair of garden shears (smelling faintly of mildew): Taken.

a gallon jug of white vinegar (smelling faintly of mildew): Taken.

mildewed leather gloves: Taken.

key from an urn: Taken.

bronze urn (smelling faintly of mildew): Taken.

silver urn (smelling faintly of mildew): Taken.

copper urn (smelling faintly of mildew): Taken.

rotten flowers (smelling faintly of mildew): Taken.

slip of paper (smelling faintly of mildew): Taken.

pewter box (smelling faintly of mildew): You scoop the box out of its crumbling niche. A whiff of stale air hits you, and you recoil. Yet the box remains safely cradled to your chest. Something inside it thumps, as if to the rhythm of your heartbeat. 

 You can see no further into the grave.
The Lives of the Roman Emperors (smelling faintly of mildew): Taken.

white key: Taken.

red-rimmed porcelain cups (smelling faintly of mildew): Taken.

red-rimmed porcelain plates (smelling faintly of mildew): Taken.

Hyper-Gastronomy, Exactness, and String Theory: a Theoretical Subdiscipline of Cooking and Baking by Chef Wheldrake (smelling faintly of mildew): Taken.

A Culinary Overview of Superstitions in the Miskaton Valley Region by S. Jarret Zornwharf (smelling faintly of mildew): Taken.

Carfax gig poster: Taken.

dull machete (smelling faintly of mildew): Taken.

> l
Top of Stairs (Q. Pheevr)
You are at the top of a staircase, which leads down to Landing at the Bottom of Stairs (Mark Sample). An archway leads east to Upstairs Hall, north end (Jason Love).

On the north wall is a round white wall clock.

Standing against the west wall is a dilapidated kitchen sink with a pine cabinet under it.

You can also see Mama Hydra's Deep Fried Ones (smelling faintly of mildew), a broken silver amulet, a shard (smelling faintly of mildew), a pair of stone earplugs (smelling faintly of mildew), a note from a seesaw (smelling faintly of mildew), a newspaper clipping ("Rumors of Decapitations") (smelling faintly of mildew), a police report ("Francine Cragne"), De Zeven Testamenten van de Krijsende Zeeworm (smelling faintly of mildew), an Italian magazine cutting (smelling faintly of mildew), a pink-bound book, a torn notebook (smelling faintly of mildew), a thin steel key (smelling faintly of mildew), a broken knife handle (smelling faintly of mildew), a brass nameplate (smelling faintly of mildew), an Allen key (smelling faintly of mildew), a metal flask (smelling faintly of mildew), an old newspaper (smelling faintly of mildew), an old paperback book (smelling faintly of mildew), a piece of chalk (smelling faintly of mildew) and a pair of leather boots here.

> take all
piece of chalk (smelling faintly of mildew): Taken.

mate of the first leather boot (smelling faintly of mildew): Taken.

Mama Hydra's Deep Fried Ones (smelling faintly of mildew): Taken.

broken silver amulet: Taken.

shard (smelling faintly of mildew): Taken.

stone earplugs (smelling faintly of mildew): Taken.
note from a seesaw (smelling faintly of mildew): Taken.

newspaper clipping ("Rumors of Decapitations") (smelling faintly of mildew): Taken.

police report ("Francine Cragne"): Taken.

De Zeven Testamenten van de Krijsende Zeeworm (smelling faintly of mildew): Taken.

Italian magazine cutting (smelling faintly of mildew): Taken.

pink-bound book: Taken.

torn notebook (smelling faintly of mildew): Taken.

thin steel key (smelling faintly of mildew): Taken.

broken knife handle (smelling faintly of mildew): Taken.

brass nameplate (smelling faintly of mildew): Taken.

Allen key (smelling faintly of mildew): Taken.

metal flask (smelling faintly of mildew): Taken.

old newspaper (smelling faintly of mildew): Taken.

old paperback book (smelling faintly of mildew): Taken.

single brown leather boot (smelling faintly of mildew): Taken.

round white wall clock: Taken.

>  l
Top of Stairs (Q. Pheevr)
You are at the top of a staircase, which leads down to Landing at the Bottom of Stairs (Mark Sample). An archway leads east to Upstairs Hall, north end (Jason Love).

Standing against the west wall is a dilapidated kitchen sink with a pine cabinet under it.

>e

Upstairs Hall, north end (Jason Love)
Imposing wooden doors lead north (which is open) and east ; a smaller doorway between them has been closed off with badly painted bricks. The top of the stairs is accessible through a narrow arch to the west, and the hall continues to the south.

A massive black armoire stands sealed against the north-west wall.

>* Did we hit like a TAKE ALL buffer?
That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later.

>x bricks
(loose bricks (smelling faintly of mildew))
The brick is quite heavy.

A faint smell of mildew emanates from them.

>put loose bricks in junk pocket
You can't see any such thing.

>put loose bricks in trash pocket
You can't see any such thing.

>i
You are carrying:
  a round white wall clock
  an old paperback book (smelling faintly of mildew)
  an old newspaper (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a metal flask (smelling faintly of mildew)
  an Allen key (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a brass nameplate (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a broken knife handle (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a thin steel key (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a torn notebook (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a pink-bound book
  an Italian magazine cutting (smelling faintly of mildew)
  De Zeven Testamenten van de Krijsende Zeeworm (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a police report ("Francine Cragne")
  a newspaper clipping ("Rumors of Decapitations") (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a note from a seesaw (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a pair of stone earplugs (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a shard (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a broken silver amulet
  Mama Hydra's Deep Fried Ones (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a piece of chalk (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a dull machete (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a Carfax gig poster
  A Culinary Overview of Superstitions in the Miskaton Valley Region by S. Jarret Zornwharf (smelling faintly of mildew)
  Hyper-Gastronomy, Exactness, and String Theory: a Theoretical Subdiscipline of Cooking and Baking by Chef Wheldrake (smelling faintly of mildew)
  red-rimmed porcelain plates (smelling faintly of mildew)
  red-rimmed porcelain cups (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a white key (smelling faintly of mildew)
  The Lives of the Roman Emperors (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a pewter box (smelling faintly of mildew) (open but empty)
  a slip of paper (smelling faintly of mildew)
  some rotten flowers (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a copper urn (smelling faintly of mildew) (open but empty)
  a silver urn (smelling faintly of mildew) (open but empty)
  a bronze urn (smelling faintly of mildew) (open but empty)
  a key from an urn
  some mildewed leather gloves
  a gallon jug of white vinegar (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a pair of garden shears (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a bronze key green from age (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a rusty flathead screwdriver (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a teapot (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a pair of blue cloth slippers (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a trophy for a dog race (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a glass shard (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a black business card
  an aluminum key (smelling faintly of mildew)
  loose bricks (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a clipboard
  some yellowed newspapers (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a shard of shattered carapace (smelling faintly of mildew)
  an employee ID card (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a book list (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a soggy tome (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a long hooked pole
  a grimy rock (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a library card (smelling faintly of mildew)
  Peter's jacket (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a backpack features guide (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a trolley schedule (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a Jansport backpack (open)
    a hidden pocket (open but empty)
    a key pocket (open but empty)
    a book pocket (open but empty)
    a side pocket (open but empty)
    a trash pocket (closed)
  the second candle (smelling faintly of mildew)
  the first candle (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a moldy, waterlogged journal (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a tiny leather journal (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a small blue journal (which you know is a journal because it says "Mein Journal" on the front) (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a calfskin coat
  a gold jacket
  Ed's coveralls
  an antique locket (smelling faintly of mildew) (closed)
  a cast iron spire (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a wad of cash (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a repaired page (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a waterproof flashlight (smelling faintly of mildew)
  the diary of Phyllis Cragne (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a postcard of Big Ben (smelling faintly of mildew)
  The Modern Girl's Divination Handbook -- Volume Three (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a large brass key (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a brass winding key (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a giant milkweed leaf (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a label (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a pull-string doll (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a filthy rug (smelling faintly of mildew)
  Daniel Baker's note (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a glass jar containing an insect (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a plastic bubble (smelling faintly of mildew) (open but empty)
  a familiar gold wristwatch (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a bottle of Pepto-Bismol (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a trolley pass
  a pamphlet of home listings (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a well-dressed ghost (haunting you) (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a half-full styrofoam coffee cup
  a pair of leather boots

>x backpack
You love this backpack. From the outside it's modestly sized and easy to carry, but the inside is surprisingly capacious. In addition to the cavernous main pocket of the backpack itself, there's a key pocket for your keys, a book pocket for your books, a side pocket for your sidequests, a hidden pocket for your ineffable mysteries of time and space, and a trash pocket for your trash. Zippers on all of these pockets let you open and close them at will.

In the Jansport backpack are a hidden pocket, a key pocket, a book pocket, a side pocket and a trash pocket.

>x loose bricks
You can't see any such thing.

>x bricks
(loose bricks (smelling faintly of mildew))
The brick is quite heavy.

A faint smell of mildew emanates from them.

>put bricks in trash pocket
(loose bricks (smelling faintly of mildew) in the trash pocket)
You unzip the trash pocket, deposit loose bricks (smelling faintly of mildew), then zip the trash pocket back up again.

>x bricks
A doorway smaller than those flanking it on either side, walled off entirely with bricks.

>open it
You can't very well open this brick wall.

>enter it
You can't very well open this brick wall.

>touch it
You feel nothing unexpected.

>touch armoire
It's too big, too heavy, and too nailed-shut to mess with right now.

>look under armoire
It's too big, too heavy, and too nailed-shut to mess with right now.

>se
You can't go that way.

>sw

Hallway South (Matt Schneider)
The threadbare carpet holds only the vaguest hints of its original hue, and the yellowing wallpaper is crisscrossed with a web of cracks.

The hallway feels narrow?no, that's not right. The hallway is wide enough for two people to pass one another easily. It doesn't feel narrow: it feels thin. The hallway continues to the north, and there are doors leading to the west, south, and east.

Partway down the hall, a black pen floats a couple feet off the ground, as if resting on a table or desk. It does not, however, appear to be sitting on anything.

>undo
Upstairs Hall, north end (Jason Love)
[Previous turn undone.]

>s

Hallway South (Matt Schneider)
The threadbare carpet holds only the vaguest hints of its original hue, and the yellowing wallpaper is crisscrossed with a web of cracks.

The hallway feels narrow?no, that's not right. The hallway is wide enough for two people to pass one another easily. It doesn't feel narrow: it feels thin. The hallway continues to the north, and there are doors leading to the west, south, and east.

Partway down the hall, a black pen floats a couple feet off the ground, as if resting on a table or desk. It does not, however, appear to be sitting on anything.

>undo
Upstairs Hall, north end (Jason Love)
[Previous turn undone.]

>* Oh, weird!
You seem to want to talk to someone, but I can't see whom.

>l
Upstairs Hall, north end (Jason Love)
Imposing wooden doors lead north (which is open) and east ; a smaller doorway between them has been closed off with badly painted bricks. The top of the stairs is accessible through a narrow arch to the west, and the hall continues to the south.

A massive black armoire stands sealed against the north-west wall.

>x arch
Little more than a vaulted hole in the wall compared to the vaster spaces it separates. Pass through here to return to the upstairs landing.

>sit
(on the piece of chalk (smelling faintly of mildew))
That's not something you can sit down on.

>sit on bench
You get onto the metal bench.

>* is the bench not important
That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later.

>open armoire
It's too big, too heavy, and too nailed-shut to mess with right now.

>stand on bench
But you're already on the metal bench.

>climb bench
Little is to be achieved by that.

>climb armoire
It's too big, too heavy, and too nailed-shut to mess with right now.

>open armoire
It's too big, too heavy, and too nailed-shut to mess with right now.

>x it
The massive wardrobe is wider than you can reach with your arms extended. Weathered wooden boards have been nailed across the doors in four places.

>touch it
It's too big, too heavy, and too nailed-shut to mess with right now.

>x boards
The massive wardrobe is wider than you can reach with your arms extended. Weathered wooden boards have been nailed across the doors in four places.

>x places
You can't see any such thing.

>x doors
You can't use multiple objects with that verb.

>x armoire doors
The massive wardrobe is wider than you can reach with your arms extended. Weathered wooden boards have been nailed across the doors in four places.

>pull doll
The doll intones: "Flee the jeopardy of the hallway to the south!"

>* are the four places important?
That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later.

>pull doll
The doll intones: "Guard against the north door! A door represents passage out of life!"

>g
The doll intones: "Shun the sealed armoire!"

>g
The doll intones: "Flee the hallway to the south!"

>g
The doll intones: "Guard against the bricked-up door! A door indicates passage out of life!"

>g
The doll intones: "Beware the jeopardy of the metal bench! Metal means preternatural strength! Metal signifies unnatural strength!"

>g
The doll intones: "Flee the threat of the hallway to the south!"

>g
The doll intones: "Beware the jeopardy of the hallway to the south!"

>g
The doll intones: "Flee the threat of the east door! A door symbolises passage out of life!"

>g
The doll intones: "Shun the risk of the sealed armoire!"

>g
The doll intones: "Flee the arch!"

>g
The doll intones: "Shun the threat of the hallway to the south!"

>g
The doll intones: "Flee the plague of the north door! A door suggests passage out of life!"

>g
The doll intones: "Shun the hallway to the south!"

>g
The doll intones: "Shun the east door! A door bespeaks passage out of life!"

>g
The doll intones: "Guard against the jeopardy of the thing that isn't here!"

>g
The doll intones: "Guard against the risk of the thing that isn't here!"

>g
The doll intones: "Guard against the sealed armoire!"

>g
The doll intones: "Flee the hazard of the bricked-up door! A door indicates passage out of life!"

>g
The doll intones: "Shun the plague of the bricked-up door! A door signifies passage out of life!"

>l
Upstairs Hall, north end (Jason Love) (on the metal bench)
Imposing wooden doors lead north (which is open) and east ; a smaller doorway between them has been closed off with badly painted bricks. The top of the stairs is accessible through a narrow arch to the west, and the hall continues to the south.

A massive black armoire stands sealed against the north-west wall.

>* well, nothing else
You seem to want to talk to someone, but I can't see whom.

>enter armoire
It's too big, too heavy, and too nailed-shut to mess with right now.

>ask armoire about its mother
You can't see any such thing.

>x wall
You can't see any such thing.

>nw
There's no exit that way, and you are on the metal bench anyway.

>u
There's no exit that way, and you are on the metal bench anyway.

>out
You get off the metal bench.

Upstairs Hall, north end (Jason Love)
Imposing wooden doors lead north (which is open) and east ; a smaller doorway between them has been closed off with badly painted bricks. The top of the stairs is accessible through a narrow arch to the west, and the hall continues to the south.

A massive black armoire stands sealed against the north-west wall.

>nw
You can't go that way.

>ne
You can't very well open this brick wall.

>n
"Oh, we're all so happy! And it is just about tea time too! Come right in." Carol turns to face a sock puppet monkey and scolds him, "You just stay in your seat, Young Master Sweetpaws -- mother says we will have manners in this house!"

Much bustling ensues: sounds of porcelain being laid, clinking of utensils, and the heavy thunk of a chair being put in place.

"Ready! Come in, Naomi", sings Carol as she ushers you inward.

Perhaps against your better judgement, you follow her.

"Here, let me take that for you," offers Carol as she accepts the teapot and walks to a table at the center of the room.

Nursery (Ben Collins-Sussman)
You can see Carol here.

[ HINT: you can type "hints" for a hint for this location ]

You would have killed to have this charming room when you were yourself five years old: a fluffy pink and white dotted comforter covers a bed overflowing with stuffed animals. Beside it, a play kitchen replete with pots, pans, and a very realistic looking oven. On the far wall, a large bay window trimmed in lacy curtains matching the bedspread. To the left of the window, a small writing desk and tiny lamp, and nearer to the entrance, a an old-fashioned record player rests on wooden stand. 

Your eye is quickly drawn, however, to one discordant item: a framed black and white photo of a bald man smiles down towards the center of the room. The exquisitely carved heavy gilded frame obviously predates photography by centuries, and you are hard pressed to guess how this odd portrait fits into the decor.

In the center of the room, the tea party itself is already underway. Seated on each side of the table in toy chairs are several stuffed animals. Carol stands just opposite you with teapot in hand.

>undo
Upstairs Hall, north end (Jason Love)
[Previous turn undone.]

>l
Upstairs Hall, north end (Jason Love)
Imposing wooden doors lead north (which is open) and east ; a smaller doorway between them has been closed off with badly painted bricks. The top of the stairs is accessible through a narrow arch to the west, and the hall continues to the south.

A massive black armoire stands sealed against the north-west wall.

>* huh, this is somewhat stymying me
You seem to want to talk to someone, but I can't see whom.

>i
You are carrying:
  a round white wall clock
  an old paperback book (smelling faintly of mildew)
  an old newspaper (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a metal flask (smelling faintly of mildew)
  an Allen key (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a brass nameplate (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a broken knife handle (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a thin steel key (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a torn notebook (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a pink-bound book
  an Italian magazine cutting (smelling faintly of mildew)
  De Zeven Testamenten van de Krijsende Zeeworm (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a police report ("Francine Cragne")
  a newspaper clipping ("Rumors of Decapitations") (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a note from a seesaw (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a pair of stone earplugs (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a shard (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a broken silver amulet (smelling faintly of mildew)
  Mama Hydra's Deep Fried Ones (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a piece of chalk (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a dull machete (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a Carfax gig poster
  A Culinary Overview of Superstitions in the Miskaton Valley Region by S. Jarret Zornwharf (smelling faintly of mildew)
  Hyper-Gastronomy, Exactness, and String Theory: a Theoretical Subdiscipline of Cooking and Baking by Chef Wheldrake (smelling faintly of mildew)
  red-rimmed porcelain plates (smelling faintly of mildew)
  red-rimmed porcelain cups (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a white key (smelling faintly of mildew)
  The Lives of the Roman Emperors (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a pewter box (smelling faintly of mildew) (open but empty)
  a slip of paper (smelling faintly of mildew)
  some rotten flowers (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a copper urn (smelling faintly of mildew) (open but empty)
  a silver urn (smelling faintly of mildew) (open but empty)
  a bronze urn (smelling faintly of mildew) (open but empty)
  a key from an urn
  some mildewed leather gloves
  a gallon jug of white vinegar (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a pair of garden shears (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a bronze key green from age (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a rusty flathead screwdriver (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a teapot (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a pair of blue cloth slippers (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a trophy for a dog race (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a glass shard (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a black business card
  an aluminum key (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a clipboard
  some yellowed newspapers (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a shard of shattered carapace (smelling faintly of mildew)
  an employee ID card (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a book list (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a soggy tome (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a long hooked pole
  a grimy rock (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a library card (smelling faintly of mildew)
  Peter's jacket (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a backpack features guide (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a trolley schedule (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a Jansport backpack (open)
    a hidden pocket (open but empty)
    a key pocket (open but empty)
    a book pocket (open but empty)
    a side pocket (open but empty)
    a trash pocket (closed)
  the second candle (smelling faintly of mildew)
  the first candle (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a moldy, waterlogged journal (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a tiny leather journal (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a small blue journal (which you know is a journal because it says "Mein Journal" on the front) (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a calfskin coat
  a gold jacket
  Ed's coveralls
  an antique locket (smelling faintly of mildew) (closed)
  a cast iron spire (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a wad of cash (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a repaired page (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a waterproof flashlight (smelling faintly of mildew)
  the diary of Phyllis Cragne (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a postcard of Big Ben (smelling faintly of mildew)
  The Modern Girl's Divination Handbook -- Volume Three (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a large brass key (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a brass winding key (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a giant milkweed leaf (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a label (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a pull-string doll (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a filthy rug (smelling faintly of mildew)
  Daniel Baker's note (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a glass jar containing an insect (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a plastic bubble (smelling faintly of mildew) (open but empty)
  a familiar gold wristwatch (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a bottle of Pepto-Bismol (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a trolley pass (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a pamphlet of home listings (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a well-dressed ghost (haunting you) (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a half-full styrofoam coffee cup
  a pair of leather boots

>* nothing really jumping out at me
That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later.

>* except that we stole the clock
That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later.

>x clock
A round white wall clock with black Arabic numbers. It currently shows the time as 7:01.

A ghastly spectral cuckoo flies out of the round white wall clock and announces, "The time is now seven o'clock!" before vanishing into thin air.

>* even creepier now!
That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later.

>look behind armoire
You can't see any such thing.

>look under armoire
It's too big, too heavy, and too nailed-shut to mess with right now.

>push it
It's too big, too heavy, and too nailed-shut to mess with right now.

>pull it
It's too big, too heavy, and too nailed-shut to mess with right now.

>move it
It's too big, too heavy, and too nailed-shut to mess with right now.

>stand on it
It's too big, too heavy, and too nailed-shut to mess with right now.

>climb it
It's too big, too heavy, and too nailed-shut to mess with right now.

>yell at it
That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later.

>yell
That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later.

>sleep
You aren't feeling especially drowsy.

>x me
You seem no worse for wear, despite everything.

>* remembering!
That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later.

>pull boards
It's too big, too heavy, and too nailed-shut to mess with right now.

>* this really seems like a *don't worry about this* message
That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later.

>x coffee
The clouds in your cup form a sharknado. Images of strange hybrids mean that some challenges in your current environment can be defeated with what you already possess, while others will require outside assistance.

>x nails
The massive wardrobe is wider than you can reach with your arms extended. Weathered wooden boards have been nailed across the doors in four places.

>extend arms
You can't extend the Cragne family crest. What would that even mean?

>* oh huh
That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later.

>extend
(the piece of chalk (smelling faintly of mildew))
You can't extend the piece of chalk (smelling faintly of mildew). What would that even mean?

>extend boards
It's too big, too heavy, and too nailed-shut to mess with right now.

>w

Top of Stairs (Q. Pheevr)
You are at the top of a staircase, which leads down to Landing at the Bottom of Stairs (Mark Sample). An archway leads east to Upstairs Hall, north end (Jason Love).

Standing against the west wall is a dilapidated kitchen sink with a pine cabinet under it.

>extend arms
You can't see any such thing.

>extend
(the piece of chalk (smelling faintly of mildew))
You can't extend the piece of chalk (smelling faintly of mildew). What would that even mean?

>* huh, that's a generally-applicable verb
You seem to want to talk to someone, but I can't see whom.

>e

Upstairs Hall, north end (Jason Love)
Imposing wooden doors lead north (which is open) and east ; a smaller doorway between them has been closed off with badly painted bricks. The top of the stairs is accessible through a narrow arch to the west, and the hall continues to the south.

A massive black armoire stands sealed against the north-west wall.

>extend all
You can't use multiple objects with that verb.

>extend armoire
It's too big, too heavy, and too nailed-shut to mess with right now.

>* that really seems like a "instead of doing anything other than examining" rule
That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later.

>* though of course it could be "examining or blarging"
That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later.

>take armoire
It's too big, too heavy, and too nailed-shut to mess with right now.

>take all
sealed armoire: It's too big, too heavy, and too nailed-shut to mess with right now.

>x seal
You can't see any such thing.

>z
Time passes.

>z
Time passes.

>z
Time passes.

>z
Time passes.

>* did I mess up by interrupting the banging?
That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later.

>* Maybe I'll restore and let that play out
That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later.

>restore
Ok.

>e

Upstairs Hall, north end (Jason Love)
Despite all the irregularities of Cragne Manor, the inconsistencies, the unaccountable changes, to say nothing of the disparate and clashing architecture and décor, you have at least attained a certain expectation regarding its hallways: close walls and high ceilings, wreathed in shadow, with the occasional door looming obelisk-like through the gloom. Its architects must have had crooked rulers, as you can never quite make out the end of a hallway until you've nearly reached it--and just such a hallway winds away to the south.

In this section of the hall, the eastern wall flares out into a wider space resembling a waiting-room; there's even a little bench against that wall to the south-east. A massive black armoire occupying the wall opposite strikes you as a less deliberate inclusion, if the boards sealing it shut are any indication; perhaps the movers abandoned it here after they couldn't fit it through the archway to the west. Beyond these minimal furnishings, the hall contains only a pair of imposing doors to the east and to the north; a third doorway between them has been closed off with bricks.

>z
Time passes.

>z
Time passes.

The manor may have its voices: its creaking and squeaking floorboards, its groaning doors; but you have grown accustomed to the quiet ways it protests your presence. This relative silence is now shattered by the unmistakable sound of a clenched fist pounding at the front door downstairs.

>z
Time passes.

The pounding at the front door continues, louder now. Was the front door even closed when last you saw it?

>z
Time passes.

--and just as abruptly as it began, the knocking stops. Silence descends on Cragne Manor once more.

>* oh, OK, anticlimax
You seem to want to talk to someone, but I can't see whom.

>l
Upstairs Hall, north end (Jason Love)
Imposing wooden doors lead north and east ; a smaller doorway between them has been closed off with badly painted bricks. The top of the stairs is accessible through a narrow arch to the west, and the hall continues to the south.

A massive black armoire stands incongruously against the north-west wall, slightly at an angle. The boards sealing the armoire doors closed suggest that this particular object of furniture should have been removed prior to your arrival, but it's far too large to fit through the arch to the west.

>push armoire south
It's too big, too heavy, and too nailed-shut to mess with right now.

>* oh, thought that was another clue
You seem to want to talk to someone, but I can't see whom.

>push armoire ne
It's too big, too heavy, and too nailed-shut to mess with right now.

>ne
You can't very well open this brick wall.

>x wall
You can't see any such thing.

>open brick wall
You can't see any such thing.

>x crest
During your engagement, you helped Peter track down a number of Cragne family crests for potential use in wedding livery: the Shattered Mast in Flames, the Moons" Eye upon the Tome, the Cup and Sword and Star--none that you've seen shared any resemblance to the crest embossed on this particular door in his ancestral home: a furred cloak girds a shield upon which the trunk of a severed tree impales a rampant lion, which is shown biting its raised leg. A banner beneath the shield reads "LIBERTÉ DE LA GORGE".

>x wall
You can't see any such thing.

>x doorway 
Cragne Manor has endured wars, flooding, blizzards, and any number of lesser catastrophes, but not without its scars. When so much of the house has required constant renovation, the occasional fire barely registers as calamitous. Before your move, Peter read to you about one such blaze which consumed this second-story bathroom in 1978, yet the adjoining rooms suffered almost no damage whatsoever. The family had reportedly spared no expense to repair the damage and restore the bathroom, but the room burned again less than a decade later. It appears that the surviving Cragnes elected to cut their losses this time.

>toch it
That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later.

>touch it
You feel nothing unexpected.

>touch crest
You feel nothing unexpected.

>touch throat
You can't see any such thing.

>speak
(hello to the piece of chalk (smelling faintly of mildew))
The piece of chalk (smelling faintly of mildew) does not respond.

>say liberte
You can only do that to something animate.

>say liberte to crest
You can only do that to something animate.

>bite leg
That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later.

>x angle
You can't see any such thing.

>* if it's at an angle can we get behind it?
That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later.

>about
Cragne Manor commemorates the 20th anniversary of Michael Gentry's Anchorhead. More than eighty authors wrote one room each. We didn't tell them what was going on in each other's rooms.

The project organizers were Jenni Polodna and Ryan Veeder. (Contact them jointly at cragne@jennipolodna.com.)

The authors were Adam Whybray, Adri, Andrew Plotkin, Andy Holloway, Austin Auclair, Baldur Brückner, Ben Collins-Sussman, Bill Maya, Brian Rushton, Buster Hudson, Caleb Wilson, Carl Muckenhoupt, Chandler Groover, Chris Jones, Christopher Conley, Damon L. Wakes, Daniel Ravipinto, Daniel Stelzer, David Jose, David Petrocco, David Sturgis, Drew Mochak, Edward B, Emily Short, Erica Newman, Feneric, Finn Rosenloev, Gary Butterfield, Gavin Inglis, Greg Frost, Hanon Ondricek, Harkness Munt, Harrison Gerard, Ian Holmes, Ivan Roth, Jack Welch, Jacqueline Ashwell, James Eagle, Jason Dyer, Jason Lautzenheiser, Jason Love, Jenni Polodna, Jeremy Freese, Joey Jones, Joshua Porch, Justin de Vesine, Justin Melvin, Katherine Morayati, Kenneth Pedersen, Lane Puetz, Llew Mason, Lucian Smith, Marco Innocenti, Marius Müller, Mark Britton, Mark Sample, Marshal Tenner Winter, Matt Schneider, Matt Weiner, Matthew Korson, Michael Fessler, Michael Gentry, Michael Hilborn, Michael Lin, Mike Spivey, Molly Ying, Monique Padelis, Naomi Hinchen, Nate Edwards, Petter Sjölund, Q Pheevr, Rachel Spitler, Reed Lockwood, Reina Adair, Riff Conner, Roberto Colnaghi, Rowan Lipkovits, Ryan Veeder, Sam Kabo Ashwell, Scott Hammack, Sean M. Shore, Wade Clarke, Zach Hodgens, and Zack Johnson.

Special beta testing thanks to Andrew Schultz. Special being a baby thanks to production baby Fionn Collins. Extra special having written Anchorhead thanks to Michael Gentry.

>l
Upstairs Hall, north end (Jason Love)
Imposing wooden doors lead north and east ; a smaller doorway between them has been closed off with badly painted bricks. The top of the stairs is accessible through a narrow arch to the west, and the hall continues to the south.

A massive black armoire stands sealed against the north-west wall.

>x arch
Little more than a vaulted hole in the wall compared to the vaster spaces it separates. Pass through here to return to the upstairs landing.

>x stairs
Little more than a vaulted hole in the wall compared to the vaster spaces it separates. Pass through here to return to the upstairs landing.

>x smaller
Which do you mean, the north door or the bricked-up door?

>x paint
You can't see any such thing.

>x painted
You can't see any such thing.

>x bricked-up
A doorway smaller than those flanking it on either side, walled off entirely with bricks.

>push bricks
(loose bricks (smelling faintly of mildew))
Nothing obvious happens.

>put loose bricks in junk pocket
You can't see any such thing.

>w

Top of Stairs (Q. Pheevr)
You are at the top of a staircase, which leads down to Landing at the Bottom of Stairs (Mark Sample). An archway leads east to Upstairs Hall, north end (Jason Love).

On the north wall is a round white wall clock.

Standing against the west wall is a dilapidated kitchen sink with a pine cabinet under it.

>put bricks in junk pocket
You unzip the trash pocket, deposit loose bricks (smelling faintly of mildew), then zip the trash pocket back up again.

>take clock
Taken.

>* yeah of course we're doing that
That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later.

>e

Upstairs Hall, north end (Jason Love)
Imposing wooden doors lead north and east ; a smaller doorway between them has been closed off with badly painted bricks. The top of the stairs is accessible through a narrow arch to the west, and the hall continues to the south.

A massive black armoire stands sealed against the north-west wall.

>push bricks
It is fixed in place.

>kick bricks
That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later.

>attack bricks
Violence isn't the answer to this one.

>hug bricks
You can't see any such thing.

>x bricks
A doorway smaller than those flanking it on either side, walled off entirely with bricks.

>lick bricks
That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later.

>taste bricks
You taste nothing unexpected.

>taste armoire
It's too big, too heavy, and too nailed-shut to mess with right now.

>x angle
You can't see any such thing.

>look under armoire
It's too big, too heavy, and too nailed-shut to mess with right now.

>sit on armoire
It's too big, too heavy, and too nailed-shut to mess with right now.

>sit on bench
You get onto the metal bench.

>sleep
You aren't feeling especially drowsy.

>nap
You aren't feeling especially drowsy.

>push bench
It is fixed in place.

>* Let me test that coffee theory
That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later.

>w
(first getting off the metal bench)

Top of Stairs (Q. Pheevr)
You are at the top of a staircase, which leads down to Landing at the Bottom of Stairs (Mark Sample). An archway leads east to Upstairs Hall, north end (Jason Love).

Standing against the west wall is a dilapidated kitchen sink with a pine cabinet under it.

>d

Landing at the Bottom of Stairs (Mark Sample)
This is a dark alcove with a narrow stairway rising into the gloom upstairs. Shadows lurch over a doorway to the south. Opposite those shadows lies another doorway, in even darker shadows. What little light there is seeps in from a small elliptical window high on the wall.

The ramshackle bookshelf lies in a pile of splintered wood on the floor like a fallen scarecrow, arms akimbo.

>s

Foyer (Greg Frost)
Standing in the narrow entry hall is like being at the mouth of a cave. The only light comes in through tall windows on either side of the door and a half-round window above. All of the furniture has been removed from the foyer, leaving tracks in the heavy dust. 

The sky outside is purple, with a few stars already visible. Hallways lead west and east into other parts of the house. A doorway leads north; the front door is to the south.

>s
(first opening the front door)

Mudroom (Matt Weiner)
The porch is a mudroom, a place for taking off coats and muddy shoes. The marble front wall seems like a sheer cliff face, the porch like a flimsy shelter built onto it. The front door leads inside to the north.

In one corner of the porch a strangely shaped hook is fastened to the wall. A black cloak hangs beside it.

In the other corner of the porch is a small wooden table.

A slightly muddy welcome mat lies in front of the door.

>out

Front Walk (Matt Weiner)
Cragne Manor looms to the north. Its light gray marble front is marred by a screened-in wooden porch, clearly tacked on well after the manor was built. A gravel path bends around the manor to the northeast and northwest, and the driveway leads south back to town.

By the porch steps is a post with a placard reading "31." A strange little manikin is affixed to it.

A mistlike trolley stop sign reads Purple Line -- Cragne Manor.

>ne

Cragne Family Plot (Mark Britton)
A cramped and neglected place on unwholesome yellow soil. Over the years the gravestones have shifted like teeth in an overcrowded mouth, collapsing one atop the other. Crabgrass pokes up limply between them, urine-yellow and parched-looking. The earth mounds up around the shabby crypt, as if it's sunk over the years into the Vermont topsoil. You wonder who would want to be buried here--and who would willingly consign their ancestors to this brutal place. Perhaps that's why it's been so neglected. 

Four squat columbariums stand north, east, south, and west of here. A winding and uncertain path leads southwest. By stepping over collapsed gravestones and bleached obelisks you can go northwest. Carefully. You could also enter the crypt from here, if you were able to open it.

Three graves nearby draw your eye. One headstone teeters drunkenly, half overrun by lichen. One headstone has collapsed entirely. An adjacent plot stands open, overlooked by a blank headstone. The grave within is flooded almost to the top with bubbling rainwater.

>x coffee
The clouds in your cup form a sturdy oak. Botanical images mean that while there is much left to accomplish in the present situation, your immediate environment sustains you, and you have everything that you need.

>sw

Front Walk (Matt Weiner)
Cragne Manor looms to the north. Its light gray marble front is marred by a screened-in wooden porch, clearly tacked on well after the manor was built. A gravel path bends around the manor to the northeast and northwest, and the driveway leads south back to town.

By the porch steps is a post with a placard reading "31." A strange little manikin is affixed to it.

A phantom trolley stop sign reads Purple Line -- Cragne Manor.

>* OK I think that means my guess about the white key was correct
That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later.

>drop white key
Dropped.

>ne

Cragne Family Plot (Mark Britton)
A cramped and neglected place on unwholesome yellow soil. Over the years the gravestones have shifted like teeth in an overcrowded mouth, collapsing one atop the other. Crabgrass pokes up limply between them, urine-yellow and parched-looking. The earth mounds up around the shabby crypt, as if it's sunk over the years into the Vermont topsoil. You wonder who would want to be buried here--and who would willingly consign their ancestors to this brutal place. Perhaps that's why it's been so neglected. 

Four squat columbariums stand north, east, south, and west of here. A winding and uncertain path leads southwest. By stepping over collapsed gravestones and bleached obelisks you can go northwest. Carefully. You could also enter the crypt from here, if you were able to open it.

Three graves nearby draw your eye. One headstone teeters drunkenly, half overrun by lichen. One headstone has collapsed entirely. An adjacent plot stands open, overlooked by a blank headstone. The grave within is flooded almost to the top with bubbling rainwater.

>x coffee
The clouds in your cup form a biplane. Modes of transportation mean that your current environment presents challenges that can only be overcome by seeking fresh perspectives elsewhere until you're ready to return.

>* Yeah, OK
You seem to want to talk to someone, but I can't see whom.

>sw

Front Walk (Matt Weiner)
Cragne Manor looms to the north. Its light gray marble front is marred by a screened-in wooden porch, clearly tacked on well after the manor was built. A gravel path bends around the manor to the northeast and northwest, and the driveway leads south back to town.

By the porch steps is a post with a placard reading "31." A strange little manikin is affixed to it.

You can also see a white key here.

An insubstantial trolley stop sign reads Purple Line -- Cragne Manor.

>* So it's not just "the item is available" or "has been in your inventory"
That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later.

>* Meaning it should be possible to coffee-scum (sorry)
That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later.

>take key
(the white key)
Taken.

>n
You climb the steps to the porch.

Mudroom (Matt Weiner)
The porch is a mudroom, a place for taking off coats and muddy shoes. The marble front wall seems like a sheer cliff face, the porch like a flimsy shelter built onto it. The front door leads inside to the north.

In one corner of the porch a strangely shaped hook is fastened to the wall. A black cloak hangs beside it.

In the other corner of the porch is a small wooden table.

A slightly muddy welcome mat lies in front of the door.

>u
You can go south back down to the front walk or north in through the front door.

>n

Foyer (Greg Frost)
Standing in the narrow entry hall is like being at the mouth of a cave. The only light comes in through tall windows on either side of the door and a half-round window above. All of the furniture has been removed from the foyer, leaving tracks in the heavy dust. 

Countless stars are appearing in the sky outside. Hallways lead west and east into other parts of the house. A doorway leads north; the front door is to the south.

>n

Landing at the Bottom of Stairs (Mark Sample)
This is a dark alcove with a narrow stairway rising into the gloom upstairs. Shadows lurch over a doorway to the south. Opposite those shadows lies another doorway, in even darker shadows. What little light there is seeps in from a small elliptical window high on the wall.

The ramshackle bookshelf lies in a pile of splintered wood on the floor like a fallen scarecrow, arms akimbo.

>u

Top of Stairs (Q. Pheevr)
You are at the top of a staircase, which leads down to Landing at the Bottom of Stairs (Mark Sample). An archway leads east to Upstairs Hall, north end (Jason Love).

Standing against the west wall is a dilapidated kitchen sink with a pine cabinet under it.

>e

Upstairs Hall, north end (Jason Love)
Imposing wooden doors lead north and east ; a smaller doorway between them has been closed off with badly painted bricks. The top of the stairs is accessible through a narrow arch to the west, and the hall continues to the south.

A massive black armoire stands sealed against the north-west wall.

>* But coffee said I could make progress even without any of my inventory
That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later.

>* So this is a guess the verb puzzle?
That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later.

>* Or maybe I do just need to wait, then come back
You seem to want to talk to someone, but I can't see whom.

>* let's try N
That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later.

>n
"Oh, we're all so happy! And it is just about tea time too! Come right in." Carol turns to face a sock puppet monkey and scolds him, "You just stay in your seat, Young Master Sweetpaws -- mother says we will have manners in this house!"

Much bustling ensues: sounds of porcelain being laid, clinking of utensils, and the heavy thunk of a chair being put in place.

"Ready! Come in, Naomi", sings Carol as she ushers you inward.

Perhaps against your better judgement, you follow her.

"Here, let me take that for you," offers Carol as she accepts the teapot and walks to a table at the center of the room.

You open the north door.

Nursery (Ben Collins-Sussman)
You can see Carol here.

[ HINT: you can type "hints" for a hint for this location ]

You would have killed to have this charming room when you were yourself five years old: a fluffy pink and white dotted comforter covers a bed overflowing with stuffed animals. Beside it, a play kitchen replete with pots, pans, and a very realistic looking oven. On the far wall, a large bay window trimmed in lacy curtains matching the bedspread. To the left of the window, a small writing desk and tiny lamp, and nearer to the entrance, a an old-fashioned record player rests on wooden stand. 

Your eye is quickly drawn, however, to one discordant item: a framed black and white photo of a bald man smiles down towards the center of the room. The exquisitely carved heavy gilded frame obviously predates photography by centuries, and you are hard pressed to guess how this odd portrait fits into the decor.

In the center of the room, the tea party itself is already underway. Seated on each side of the table in toy chairs are several stuffed animals. Carol stands just opposite you with teapot in hand.

>* ah, that's why we needed the teapot, clearly
You seem to want to talk to someone, but I can't see whom.

>undo
Nursery (Ben Collins-Sussman)
[Previous turn undone.]

>undo
Upstairs Hall, north end (Jason Love)
[Previous turn undone.]

>drop teapot
Fortunately, the valuable antique lands without incident.

>n
A blonde kindergartner in a blue dress bars your way northward into a bedroom.

"Hi Naomi. That's a funny name -- are you an immigrant or something? Daddy says immigrants don't understand plain English and that's why we hate communists. My name is Carol. Before you come through my door, want to hear a joke?"

"But, there's no door here", you complain. As you say that, though, you note that there is a kind of weird shimmering between you and the girl.

"Knock, knock", says the girl, ignoring your objection.

"Who's there?" you reluctantly respond.

"Naomi!"

"Naomi, who?" you ask, confused.

"Naomi with a chicken on top!" The little girl giggles uncontrollably. "It's funny because it has a chicken on top, get it?"

When the girl stops giggling, she somehow ejects you back into the hallway, adding, "We're so glad you came for the tea party, but aren't you missing something important?"

>* ah!
That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later.

>* Cragnes are Trump voters, film at 11
You seem to want to talk to someone, but I can't see whom.

>s

Hallway South (Matt Schneider)
The threadbare carpet holds only the vaguest hints of its original hue, and the yellowing wallpaper is crisscrossed with a web of cracks.

The hallway feels narrow?no, that's not right. The hallway is wide enough for two people to pass one another easily. It doesn't feel narrow: it feels thin. The hallway continues to the north, and there are doors leading to the west, south, and east.

Partway down the hall, a black pen floats a couple feet off the ground, as if resting on a table or desk. It does not, however, appear to be sitting on anything.

>takundo
That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later.

>udo
That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later.

>undo
Hallway South (Matt Schneider)
[Previous turn undone.]

>l
Hallway South (Matt Schneider)
The threadbare carpet holds only the vaguest hints of its original hue, and the yellowing wallpaper is crisscrossed with a web of cracks. The hallway continues to the north, and there are doors leading to the west, south, and east.

Partway down the hall, a black pen floats a couple feet off the ground, as if resting on a table or desk. It does not, however, appear to be sitting on anything.

The hallway darkens slightly.

>undo
Hallway South (Matt Schneider)
[Previous turn undone.]

>undo
Hallway South (Matt Schneider)
[Previous turn undone.]

>undo
Upstairs Hall, north end (Jason Love)
[Previous turn undone.]

>l
Upstairs Hall, north end (Jason Love)
Imposing wooden doors lead north and east ; a smaller doorway between them has been closed off with badly painted bricks. The top of the stairs is accessible through a narrow arch to the west, and the hall continues to the south.

A massive black armoire stands sealed against the north-west wall.

You can also see a teapot (smelling faintly of mildew) here.

>take teapot
Taken.

>n
"Oh, we're all so happy! And it is just about tea time too! Come right in." Carol turns to face a sock puppet monkey and scolds him, "You just stay in your seat, Young Master Sweetpaws -- mother says we will have manners in this house!"

Much bustling ensues: sounds of porcelain being laid, clinking of utensils, and the heavy thunk of a chair being put in place.

"Ready! Come in, Naomi", sings Carol as she ushers you inward.

Perhaps against your better judgement, you follow her.

"Here, let me take that for you," offers Carol as she accepts the teapot and walks to a table at the center of the room.

You open the north door.

Nursery (Ben Collins-Sussman)
You can see Carol here.

[ HINT: you can type "hints" for a hint for this location ]

You would have killed to have this charming room when you were yourself five years old: a fluffy pink and white dotted comforter covers a bed overflowing with stuffed animals. Beside it, a play kitchen replete with pots, pans, and a very realistic looking oven. On the far wall, a large bay window trimmed in lacy curtains matching the bedspread. To the left of the window, a small writing desk and tiny lamp, and nearer to the entrance, a an old-fashioned record player rests on wooden stand. 

Your eye is quickly drawn, however, to one discordant item: a framed black and white photo of a bald man smiles down towards the center of the room. The exquisitely carved heavy gilded frame obviously predates photography by centuries, and you are hard pressed to guess how this odd portrait fits into the decor.

In the center of the room, the tea party itself is already underway. Seated on each side of the table in toy chairs are several stuffed animals. Carol stands just opposite you with teapot in hand.

>* Does Carol know us?  Do we know Carol?
That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later.

>* Like is this Christabell's Carol? I believe she died....
That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later.

>x me
This little weekend getaway with Peter has done you some good. So relaxing.

Carol glances around the table at her stuffed animals. "I don't know about any of you, but I sure am getting thirsty. Yes sir, some nice hot tea would really hit the spot, don't you think so, Sweetpaws? You do? Me too. I wish Naomi would say the magic words and let us get going. What's that Mister Snortles? Maybe she forgot what to say? I'm sure she remembers that she is supposed to say 'bottoms-up' so we can start."

>* I think these are conversation topics (there's bolding again)
That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later.

>l
Nursery (Ben Collins-Sussman)
An ideal room for a well-heeled little girl of five. Room furnishings include a bed, a play kitchen, a desk, and a record player. A large bay window occupies most of the external wall, and a large portrait hangs at the foot of the bed. The exit should be to the south, but is currently blocked by a magical mirror that was not there a second ago.

A tea party with Carol and a bunch of stuffed animals is in full swing in the middle of the room.

You can see Carol, a scrapbook and a window (closed) here.

>x bed
A child's bed of just the right size.

Carol sighs, "I'm getting bored -- haven't you done enough talking and poking around the room? Let's start the tea party -- you just have to say 'bottoms-up'".

"Carol, why are you so obsessed with tea. Are you sure you're not British?"

"No, I don't think so."

>x kitchen
The play kitchen is all one piece and attached to a plywood backboard. The centerpiece is a metal stove with four pretend gas burners above an oven door. Some pots and pans poke out of the cabinets above the stove. To one side of the stove is a full size ice box, and an apron hangs on a hook to the other side of the stove.

"Yes, Misses Winkelbottom," nods Carol, "I am sure Naomi knows that she just has to say 'bottoms-up' to get the tea party started, but she's playing her own game now I think, and it's not fun!"

>* lots of details here!  I feel like I'm supposed to roll with the punches though
That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later.

>x carol
A pretty young girl, with wavy hair held in place with hair band, penetrating blue eyes, and cherubic cheeks. Her perfectly pressed powder blue dress is cinched at the waist with an oversize bow of matching color, and below it her skirt balloons outward like a parachute. Below that, she wears brilliant white knee socks and polished shoes with small silver buckles.

"Uh oh, Naomi," say Carol with what you can tell is feigned concern, "Malice the Clown says he's getting upset that you are holding up the tea party, and he wants to know why you haven't said the magic words 'bottoms-up'. He says he wonders if you really want to spend all of eternity in here, and I told him that no, probably you don't, but he said maybe she does, and I said, well I guess we'll find out, right?"

>ask carol about christabell
[ HINT: For short, say "a subject" or "t subject" to ASK/TELL about a subject ]

"She's out by those rocks," says Carol, pointing out the window towards some dark cliffs. "I go out there all the time and we talk and play and do stuff. She taught me to read, you know.  Mom and Dad aren't around and the Cragnes don't really care about me (mom once said they only took me for the money, because they're not rich like they used to be), so that's where I go when the weather isn't too bad."

"You know, she's not alive, right?" You try to say it gently, but feel the girl needs to know.

"Sure, she's a spirit -- don't call her a ghost because she says that not correct. I mean, gee whiz, at this point, I'm one too. It's no big deal."

"If you are going to be such a stick in the mud, Malice, will you please help yourself to one of Naomi's trinkets and drop it into the Maw of Unthinkable Nothingness? Maybe that will make her want to play with us and say the magical word 'bottoms-up' so we can all play tea party."

The toy clown comes to suddenly to life, walks stiffly towards you and plucks a white key out the air and tosses it into a whirling vortex of fire and ash that has opened above the tea table. The vortex folds in on itself and disappears the moment the white key enters it.

It all happens so fast that you are left speechless.

>* umm
That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later.

>* that seems bad?
That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later.

>* though confirmation this is the same Carol, and she's a ghost
You seem to want to talk to someone, but I can't see whom.

>z
Time passes.

"If you are going to be such a stick in the mud, Malice, will you please help yourself to one of Naomi's trinkets and drop it into the Maw of Unthinkable Nothingness? Maybe that will make her want to play with us and say the magical word 'bottoms-up' so we can all play tea party."

The toy clown comes to suddenly to life, walks stiffly towards you and plucks a round white wall clock out the air and tosses it into a whirling vortex of fire and ash that has opened above the tea table. The vortex folds in on itself and disappears the moment the round white wall clock enters it.

It all happens so fast that you are left speechless.

>* that seems less bad
That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later.

>* we'll get our stuff back, right?
You seem to want to talk to someone, but I can't see whom.

>ask carol about malice
"Malice is middle class, so before when he was a she, she was a waitress, but now I think he has a real job and works in a store and sells stuff. Malice lives in a house, but not a big one, and doesn't have a lot of stuff."

"If you are going to be such a stick in the mud, Misses Winkelbottom, will you please help yourself to one of Naomi's trinkets and drop it into the Maw of Unthinkable Nothingness? Maybe that will make her want to play with us and say the magical word 'bottoms-up' so we can all play tea party."

The toy lamb comes to suddenly to life, walks stiffly towards you and plucks an old paperback book (smelling faintly of mildew) out the air and tosses it into a whirling vortex of fire and ash that has opened above the tea table. The vortex folds in on itself and disappears the moment the old paperback book (smelling faintly of mildew) enters it.

It all happens so fast that you are left speechless.

>* umm there's a backstory
That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later.

>say bottoms-up
You can only do that to something animate.

>bottoms-up
Carol smiles and a slimy dark-green sac appears in front of you. "Well, here's your stuff. Fair and square."

As the last syllable rolls off your tongue, you sip the dregs of some delicious warm tea from your cup (English Breakfast, some sugar, a bit of milk).

Looking around the table, the cups set before the toy creatures drain themselves although the creatures themselves do not budge.

At the head of the table, Carol up-ends her cup gracefully and relishes the tea.

As she sets her cup down and sighs with pleasure, a curious thing happens: both you and she glow perceptibly, as does the book over on the desk. It happens so briefly, that you almost miss it.

"Feel any better?" asks Carol.

"Why yes, in fact I do. A brisk cup of tea was just the thing," you agree.

"You can do the honors for the second cup! See this is fun!" Carol slides great-uncle's teapot over towards you.

>x sac
You can't see any such thing.

>* er what/
That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later.

>x teapot
It looks like there are about two more rounds of tea in the fine china pot.

>pour teap
I only understood you as far as wanting to pour.

>pour tea
Carol rolls her eyes. "Good grief," she says. "Don't you know how to do anything? As Christabell says, it is not about the substance, but the shadow."

>ask carol about christabell
"So," you inquire, "it sounds like we have a mutual friend -- Christabell. How did you meet her?"

"Oh, Christabell? We met a long time ago -- maybe when I was four? And I was playing out in the woods, sharpening sticks or something, and I found a great big pile of railroad tracks. Right out there," she points out the window towards a range of dark cliffs.

"Yes, I've been there."

"You have? Most people can't see her, you know. They don't have the sight, but I do because of my mom. Christabell's and my mom are cousins or something, so I got the sight. Anyhow, Christabell's great. She taught me a lot of stuff."

"Like what?"

"Like reading and how to skin rabbits, but she also taught me special stuff that I had to have the mark for, like the tea party. She wants to teach me more stuff like that, but says I can concentrate enough, but I can too."

>* I'm a little sad there's that much of a prompt.
That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later.

>* Oh, Ben Collins-Sussman appears to be Jack Welch's partner in crime (Rover's Day Out)
You seem to want to talk to someone, but I can't see whom.

>* Welch, of course, did the Hillside Path which is where Christabell is...
You seem to want to talk to someone, but I can't see whom.

>ask her about mark
"I've heard about the 'mark' -- can you tell me what that is?" you ask.

"I can show you." Carol pirouettes around and pulls down the shoulder of her dress, revealing a small brown mark between the base of her neck and her left shoulder blade. It looks like a birthmark, except that its edges are indistinct and seem to keep shifting, like a living thing. Carol spins back around and takes a bow. "Did you see it?"

"Yes, I think so. But what's it for?"

"Christabell gave it to me because she said that there's something she doesn't trust about these Cragnes, so it would protect me. She also said I needed to do be able to do stuff, but I'm not old enough yet for most of the stuff, so I stopped bugging her about it."

>ask her about mark
Carol says that Christabell put her magical mark on her so that she could cast magical spells.

A ghastly spectral cuckoo flies out of the round white wall clock and proclaims, "The time is now eight o'clock!" before vanishing into thin air.

>ask her about magic
Carol says, "I don't have a good answer for that one."

>ask her about tea
(the teapot (smelling faintly of mildew))
"It's grand-uncle's teapot. He got it on one of his ocean voyages and he really likes it, so I'm not suppose to touch it, but it's just perfect for the tea party because it is so fancy. Cristabell tried to show me the party without the tea once but that didn't make any sense, so I asked if her we could be like mom and have a party and she said that might be more easier, so that's what we did, and when I want to have a tea party, I always find grand-uncle's tea pot."

>ask her about grand-uncle
"He's really cranky and is always telling me not to touch his stuff and to get off stuff and not too sing too loud."

"Yes," you say, trying to reign in the conversation, "but does he have a name?"

"I'm sure he does, but I just call him great-uncle. He says that only the Deep Ones should not be named."

>ask her about mom
"Her name is Joan, but everyone just says Misses Cragne. I don't see mom hardly at all because she has so many parties to run all the time. I don't understand why so many; some are called luncheons, and people have lunch and talk, and some are called cocktail parties, and I don't see the point of that because there isn't very much to eat and people yell a lot and sometimes a taxi has to come and they need to leave. Mom says all the wives have to have parties, and that is their job, just like the husbands need to go to the office, except for poor families, which don't have jobs or parties."

>* ah up
That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later.

>ask carol about job
"Dad says that he does the math that helps the other men build the boats and he helps them go really far and stay underwater for a long, long time. He is making a new one right now that doesn't even need gas. Dad says that math is really important because if they make mistakes, the boats can sink. Sometimes the boats sink, but not because of mistakes, and dad says that is the Deep Ones taking their due, and there isn't much you can do about that, so he just tried to get the math right."

>ask carol about deep ones
"I've never seen one, but I guess they are sort of like squid or something, but really huge. I think dad talks to them sometimes."

>ask carol about dad
"His name is Hugo, which is a weird name, but dad says it's not too weird because lots of Cragnes have been named Hugo. He's the kind of engineer that doesn't work on trains. He works really hard all the time and helps build boats to keep America safe. Sometimes he works in an office across the river, that's in New London and sometimes he goes to the dock on our side of the river, where they build the boats. I went there once, but didn't see much because everything is indoors where you can't go except the boat and I didn't see much of the boat because only the top sticks out of the water. That's the part where you go in and out, so it has to stick out."

>ask carol about cragnes
"This place is full of them. I'm not supposed to wander around the mansion, but whenever I escape from my room and poke around I find new ones -- in the fountain, behind the bookcase, under the floorboards, above the attic -- it's like playing hide and seek."

"Which ones in particular?" you ask.

"Oh, they're all pretty much the same, so I don't pay attention. The only I really talk to much is grand-uncle."

>* She is definitely another larper
That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later.

>ask carol about book
Which do you mean, the scrapbook, the small blue journal (which you know is a journal because it says "Mein Journal" on the front) (smelling faintly of mildew), The Modern Girl's Divination Handbook -- Volume Three (smelling faintly of mildew), the postcard of Big Ben (smelling faintly of mildew), the diary of Phyllis Cragne (smelling faintly of mildew), the tiny leather journal (smelling faintly of mildew), the moldy, waterlogged journal (smelling faintly of mildew), the soggy tome (smelling faintly of mildew), The Lives of the Roman Emperors, Hyper-Gastronomy, Exactness, and String Theory: a Theoretical Subdiscipline of Cooking and Baking by Chef Wheldrake (smelling faintly of mildew), A Culinary Overview of Superstitions in the Miskaton Valley Region by S. Jarret Zornwharf (smelling faintly of mildew), Mama Hydra's Deep Fried Ones (smelling faintly of mildew), De Zeven Testamenten van de Krijsende Zeeworm (smelling faintly of mildew), the pink-bound book, the old newspaper (smelling faintly of mildew) or the old paperback book (smelling faintly of mildew)?

>scrapbook
"I think everyone should have their own scrapbook," Carol replies. "Don't you?"

Carol leaves through it.

"How do you choose what to paste into it?" you ask.

"I don't know. Just things. News from here and there. Interesting stuff." Carol stretches and adds with a yawn, "I've just started the scrapbook, so there isn't much in it yet."

>ask carol about new london
"It is sort of a city, but not a big one. Dad's office is there, and it's pretty close to our house in Stonington."

>ask carol about stonington
"That's where mom and dad live. It's in Connecticut. They live there because it is near where Dad's job."

>* huh, they got away, that's right
You seem to want to talk to someone, but I can't see whom.

>ask carol about me
"Not everybody can see me, so I like you, because you can see me."

>ask carol about naomi
"Not everybody can see me, so I like you, because you can see me."

>ask carol about immigrants
"Dad told me not to talk to any of them because they want to take away the stuff that we have and they are all dirty and criminals. I would never invite any of them to the tea party."

>* yar
That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later.

>* I have news about where Deep Ones are from
That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later.

>ask carol about tea party
(the dolls)
"I do just love tea parties!" Carol buzzes. "I invite all my friends, and it's so grown up!"

"Why a tea party?"

"Because we drink tea at it, of course."

"No, I mean, why did you decide to have a tea party and not some other sort of party, like the kind with balloons."

"I don't have any balloons. Besides, when we were trying to do this, Christabell said that a tea party would help us focus and showed me how, and now when I get tired or start to fade, we have a tea party and that sets everything right again. Plus, I really like tea."

>ask carol about animals
It's Carol's idea of a fun afternoon.

>ask carol about snortles
"Mister Snortles is a busy executive and he makes a lot of money and is very powerful, so people do things for him. He tends to be a bit short-tempered sometimes, but that is only because he doesn't have a wife to take care of him."

>ask carol about malice
There is little that Carol can say that would convince you that Malice the Clown is not a serial killer.

>* aren't all clowns?
That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later.

>t christabell
It sounds like Christabell has played a role in mentoring and looking after young Carol.

>a boats
In talking about the submarines that her father helps design, Carol also, alarmingly, frequently mentions the Deep Ones.

>a winkelbottom
(the toy lamb)
"Misses Winkelbottom lives in a very fancy house and has a lot of luncheons at her house, although she spends some of her afternoons at the country clubs as well. Her closets are full of beautiful dresses and she knows how to dance."

>a sweetpaws
"Daddy showed me some of the monkeys where he works, and I thought they looked sad in their cages since they couldn't run around because of all the wires. Father said that they are happier than they look and besides the experiments are important and that they're helping us fight our enemies, so they should be happy. Then he sent me Young Master Sweetpaws, so I could have a monkey of my own."

She pats the sock monkey on his shoulder, "Yes, Sweetpaws, I know that the other monkeys are not happy, but father says they need to suck it up."

>* umm I'm sorta missing the monkey-submarine connection
That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later.

>l
Nursery (Ben Collins-Sussman)
An ideal room for a well-heeled little girl of five. Room furnishings include a bed, a play kitchen, a desk, and a record player. A large bay window occupies most of the external wall, and a large portrait hangs at the foot of the bed. The exit should be to the south, but is currently blocked by a magical mirror.

A tea party with Carol and a bunch of stuffed animals is in full swing in the middle of the room.

You can see the slithering vomit bladder of Katallakh (in which are an old paperback book (smelling faintly of mildew), a round white wall clock and a white key), Carol, a scrapbook and a window (closed) here.

>x bladder
In the slithering vomit bladder of Katallakh are an old paperback book (smelling faintly of mildew), a round white wall clock and a white key.

>x katallakh
In the slithering vomit bladder of Katallakh are an old paperback book (smelling faintly of mildew), a round white wall clock and a white key.

>a katallakh
Carol says, "I have wondered that myself."

>a bladder
Carol says, "Good question."

>* I mean I guess I need that stuff back
That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later.

>take key and clock and paperback
white key: Taken.

round white wall clock: Taken.

old paperback book (smelling faintly of mildew): Taken.

>* Mildew is the least of our worries now
That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later.

>l
Nursery (Ben Collins-Sussman)
An ideal room for a well-heeled little girl of five. Room furnishings include a bed, a play kitchen, a desk, and a record player. A large bay window occupies most of the external wall, and a large portrait hangs at the foot of the bed. The exit should be to the south, but is currently blocked by a magical mirror.

A tea party with Carol and a bunch of stuffed animals is in full swing in the middle of the room.

You can see the slithering vomit bladder of Katallakh (empty), Carol, a scrapbook and a window (closed) here.

>x animals
Four dolls dutifully attend the tea party, sitting two to a side on tiny chairs. To one side, a stuffed elephant and a monkey, and to the other some sort of clown and a lamb.

A ravenous horde of other stuffed animals crowd the edges of the bed silently observing the ceremony.

>x elephant
The leathery elephant's head is disproportionately large and slumps forward slightly, weighed down by pendulous tusks and a meaty trunk.

"I've had Mister Snortles as long as I can remember -- daddy got him for me when I was just a baby and he had one of his trips to Africa. He has real tusks from a real elephant!"

From his dry, cracking gray hide, you suspect that the rest of Mister Snortles is equally authentic.

>x lamb
The toy is the threadbare, dirty yellowed remnant of what was once a lamb. It stands rigidly on its chair, bits of its underlying metal wire frame poking through where the fur has been rubbed shiny. It has no mouth, no nose, and only some bits of glue suggest where the eyes must have been.

"Misses Winkelbottom, let me introduce our new friend, Naomi.  Naomi, Misses Winkelbottom."

>x clown
Despite his painted smile, the clown's plastic face conveys a sense of surrender as it stares into an empty tea cup. 

It is the largest of the stuffed playmates, almost as tall as Carol. 

"That's Malice the Clown," Carol chirps.

"Malice?" you prompt. "The Clown?"

"Yes, originally I called him Alice, but grand-uncle said he's a boy clown and thought 'Malice' sounded nice."

>x monkey
The limp and gangly sock puppet wears a baseball cap and an Army-Navy sweater."Young Master Sweetpaws recently joined us, right Sweetpaws?"

The monkey sits there, inert, but Carol continues, "Sometimes he gets up to naughtiness, but he's always back in the morning, aren't you, Sweetpaws?"

The monkey stares blankly ahead.

>       x portrait
This is clearly a formal portrait of a balding man probably in his sixties. He has an air of authority, but also an avuncular warmth. There is a nameplate at the bottom of the portrait.

>a portrait
"I like Ike," says Carol firmly.

"You do?"

"Sure do. That's what people say, they say, "I like Ike', he's the President. They said it so much that he got elected from being a General, so now he's in charge of everything."

"Is that President Eisenhower?" You try to remember what years he was in office. Definitely after Lincoln, probably after World War II, and he's not someone you've ever seen on the news, so let's say Vietnam or before. So that would be what, the fifties? Early sixties? Somewhere in there.

"I think so, that sounds right."

>* Nitocris is a little vague on US presidents, and also the passage of time, understandably enough
You seem to want to talk to someone, but I can't see whom.

>a ike
Carol is one of President Eisenhower's biggest fans.

>a adlai stevenson
Carol says, "That's an interesting question."

>* aww that's too bad
That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later.

>l
Nursery (Ben Collins-Sussman)
An ideal room for a well-heeled little girl of five. Room furnishings include a bed, a play kitchen, a desk, and a record player. A large bay window occupies most of the external wall, and a large portrait hangs at the foot of the bed. The exit should be to the south, but is currently blocked by a magical mirror.

A tea party with Carol and a bunch of stuffed animals is in full swing in the middle of the room.

You can see the slithering vomit bladder of Katallakh (empty), Carol, a scrapbook and a window (closed) here.

>x window
The large bay window is framed in the same rosewood trim that decorates the rest of this once great mansion.

>open it
The window has a complicated child-proof safety lock -- on the outside. How very uncharacteristically responsible for the Cragnes.

>x desk
A child-size replica colonial roll-top desk with several drawers. The top portion of the desk is open and the writing surface folded down. A spiral-bound book lies on it next to a small lamp with a yellow shade.

>a desk
Carol says, "I don't have a good answer for that one."

>x boo
You can't see any such thing.

>x book
(the old paperback book (smelling faintly of mildew))
The old paperback book is pretty thick, and the pages are yellowed and lacerated here and there. You're not a bookworm, but the condition of the book and the outdated font and style of drawing on the cover tell you it was printed decades ago, maybe at the beginning of the century.

Judging by the cover the book seems to be a bit pulpy. It shows a large, old and eerie house on a clearing in the woods. The title is "ANCHORHEAD. A What-do-I-do-now Book Based on the Works of MICHAEL GENTRY." A scraggy sticker with the insignia of the Backwater Public Library, on it indicates that by no means you want to pay the fine for exceeding the return deadline.

Frost lines the edges of the library insignia.

>x scrapbook
The cover of the spiral-bound book is marked in thick black gothic lettering, "Carol's Scrapbook". Little bits of newsprint stick out from the edges of the closed book. The scrapbook glows faintly.

>take it
That's the thing about Rune Books: they like to be where they are and no where else. They are very finicky in that way.

>open it
You flip open the scrapbook, with Carol reading along, over your shoulder. In keeping with the cover, the scrapbook contains a number of newspaper clippings, bearing the titles: Shark Attack, Actress Disappears and Body Found.

>read shark attack
SHARK ATTACK!

A team of oceanographers from the Woods Hole Institute of Oceanography in Woods Hole, MA was attacked yesterday by sharks in waters about ten miles southeast of Nantucket Island. Of the four man team, one was killed and one was injured, requiring hospitalization.

The team was deploying a string of experimental sonar buoys along an underwater ridgeline. The captain of the expedition, Frampton Mays, was the first to notice a disturbance in the water surrounding the boat and the rubber raft in tow, where two divers were working. "The seas were rolling calmly, but something was moving around us, in circles. Something big. The water humped up around it, but there was no wake."

Davis Parks, an electronics engineer from the Sperry Corporation, was with the captain and noticed unusual readings from the devices being put in place, "The first buoy was anchored and we were calibrating it, so I didn't pay much attention at that point. I thought we had a gain problem because the signal returns were just crazy and the doppler? well, nothing can move that fast, I had to assume one of the guys had snapped and that the assembly was spinning."

According to coast guard vessels responding to the their distress call, water sprayed up around the raft and then the entire raft disappeared below the foaming surface. Initially, the coast guard reported sighting tentacles reaching out of the water around the raft, but it is now believed that these were the heavy lines that had secured the equipment to the ocean floor recoiling upward with the release of tension.

One diver, who was on the raft at the time, was lost: twenty-six-year-old Travis McMaster of New Port, Rhode Island. Dr. McMaster had recently completed graduate studies at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology and was conducting post-doctoral research at Woods Hole.

The other diver, David Tillerson, was nearer to the research vessel when the sharks attacked, and was pulled from the water by the two crew. First aid was performed on the coast guard rescue boat; it is reported that he had a number of large, painful welts on his back. The treating physician commented that these welts were "similar in nature to the sort we see from jellyfish, but much, much larger and deeper."

>* "one of the guys had snapped" means a rope broke, not someone's sanity
You seem to want to talk to someone, but I can't see whom.

>* (my family used to do summer vacations to Nantucket!)
That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later.

>* "New Port" should be Newport -- otherwise the research here is good
That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later.

>read actress
A FLASHBULB EXCLUSIVE!

Fashion model and star of the silver screen, Hungarian actress Lili Kovács disappeared this afternoon from a private hospital in North Carolina where she was recovering from recent surgery. As previously reported, she had been flown there three days ago after developing what was thought to be acute appendicitis while filming "Two Shots and A Chaser" in Bermuda.

At a cast party Thursday evening, she sudden collapsed, clutching her stomach in pain, and was rushed to a local hospital, where she was given medication and transferred by plane to the U.S. According to guests at the party, the normally svelte starlet appeared to have gained a lot of weight during her week on the vacation island, and some thought that she might have suffered an on set injury because she was walking oddly.

The handsome Wallace Travers, who stars opposite Miss Kovács in the Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer Pictures production, recounted the troubling week that began with the disappearance of the lovely celebrity while they were filming a scene on the beach area behind the posh Venture Casino last Monday. According to Mr. Travers, "She said she was taking a quick dip to cool off, and I thought she would be right back. When we were ready to shoot the next scene, nobody could find her. We checked the trailer, the hotel -- everywhere. Then our sound guy, Mike, says there's something going on in the surf. He had a good view from up on the boom tower, but from the beach everything looked normal. He said some kind of lights were moving around under the water. Some of the locals later told us that's not too unusual, that algae or whatnot have this faint glow at night, but Mike was really upset and said the lights were huge, the size of city busses, really bright, and moving around incredibly fast. Well, Heinrich called it for the evening, and we let Mike go sober up."

According to the film's director, Heinrich Habberstamp, Miss Kovács showed up early the next morning for filming as if nothing had happened. Later that day, she admitted to having no recollection of the prior evening.

The private hospital refused to comment in the interest of privacy, but one of Lili's visiting relatives gave FLASHBULB the inside scoop: When Lili arrived from the airport, she was burning up with fever and brought immediately to the operating room. As the surgeon made the first cut, the wound tore open of its own accord and a mass of gelatinous balls squirted out. "Maybe ten or fifteen pounds of them, each about the size of an orange. They were pink or red, and some had little cords attached. Nobody knew what they were, but they got as many of them out as they could. They had to leave some of the smaller ones that were more firmly attached. When they tried to cut those out, she started bleeding, so they closed her up."

No one knows the whereabouts of the starlet or how she could have gotten out of her bed after such major abdominal surgery. More than a few industry wags have suggested that the whole episode was a publicity stunt to build up anticipation for the film.

>* ick
That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later.

>* Deep One rape is one of the worst bits of the Lovecraft canon
That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later.

>read body
BODY FOUND

Police investigators report the discovery of a headless torso on the western shore of Block Island and are seeking public assistance in determination of the identify of the deceased.

The headless, limbless corpse was discovered yesterday afternoon by Christopher Smythe, a local resident, who was checking his lobster pots. "It came up slowly on the winch and when it got to the surface, I knew there was a problem. I got everyone under it, and we swung it onto the deck and weren't sure what to do with it, so we put it on ice and headed back to harbor."

The body is described as male, caucasian, and likely forty to fifty years old. The Washington County Medical Examiner, Dr. Lewis Ivar, places the time of death somewhere between two and three days prior to discovery. Dr. Ivar commented, "there were two notable findings: first, a series of discolorations, about four inches in diameter and arranged in a line across the back and wrapping around upward under the axilla; secondly, the presence of a tattoo across the chest. The design of the tattoo is unusual, a skull and below it a phrase in French." The coroner's office is hopeful that the unique tattoo will aid them in identification of the victim.

>* huh
That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later.

>a tattoo
Carol says, "Sorry, I don't know."

>a shark
Carol says, "I wish I knew."

>a lili
Carol says, "That's an interesting question."

>a scrapbook
"Carol, is it me, or are there more articles pasted into the scrapbook than earlier?"Carol sounds out each title and looks back at you with a shrug. "Looks the same to me."

>x scrapbook
The cover of the spiral-bound book is marked in thick black gothic lettering, "Carol's Scrapbook". Little bits of newsprint stick out from the edges of the open book. The scrapbook glows faintly.

>open it
Carol reads along, over your shoulder. In keeping with the cover, the scrapbook contains a number of newspaper clippings, bearing the titles: Shark Attack, Actress Disappears and Body Found.

>* huh
That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later.

>l
Nursery (Ben Collins-Sussman)
An ideal room for a well-heeled little girl of five. Room furnishings include a bed, a play kitchen, a desk, and a record player. A large bay window occupies most of the external wall, and a large portrait hangs at the foot of the bed. The exit should be to the south, but is currently blocked by a magical mirror.

A tea party with Carol and a bunch of stuffed animals is in full swing in the middle of the room.

You can see the slithering vomit bladder of Katallakh (empty), Carol, a scrapbook and a window (closed) here.

>x window
The large bay window is framed in the same rosewood trim that decorates the rest of this once great mansion.

>a window
Carol says, "I wish I knew."

>x table
You can't see any such thing.

>x mirror
The mirror is about four feet high and half that wide and is affixed to the wall. The bottom of the mirror a good half foot above the floor.

A ghastly spectral cuckoo flies out of the round white wall clock (smelling faintly of mildew) and squawks, "The time is now seven o'clock!" before vanishing into thin air.

>pour tea
Carol rolls her eyes. "The tea is not the thing. It is all about the word."

>bottoms-up
Again, the sweet taste of tea, this time with a dash of oil of bergamot and just a touch of sugar.

Odd you think, same teapot, but a different taste. But then you reason that is not any harder to accept than tea distributing itself magically around a table you are sharing with four stuffed animals and a ghost of some sort. Some things are just harder to accept than others.

As you set your cup back down on the table, you observe Carol sneaking a glance at her scrapbook. In that brief instant, both Carol and the book glow slightly, somewhat brighter than they did before. Your own skin pulses briefly with the same glow and you think that afterwards it maintains something of a numinous shine. This is really good tea. You feel great, and the worries of the day are fast disappearing.

"I really liked that one!" pipes Carol.

"We aim to please," you say, prompting her giggles.

>* early grey
That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later.

>* argh, earl -- the bergamot.
You seem to want to talk to someone, but I can't see whom.

>x me
This little weekend getaway with Peter has done you some good. So relaxing.

>* ruh roh
That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later.

>x scrapbook
The cover of the spiral-bound book is marked in thick black gothic lettering, "Carol's Scrapbook". Little bits of newsprint stick out from the edges of the open book. A bluish halo surrounds the scrapbook.

>open it
Carol reads along, over your shoulder. In keeping with the cover, the scrapbook contains a number of newspaper clippings, bearing the titles: Shark Attack, Actress Disappears, Body Found and Watery Fate for Convict.

>read fate
It looks like the icy hand of justice caught up to escaped murderer Gustave Dellorto earlier today, when his body was recovered at low tide from the Execution Rocks Lighthouse in the Long Island Sound.

Leslie Stovebow, the lighthouse keeper who resides in a small residence at the base of the tower, discovered the body this morning as the tide went out. The body was still clad in the striped uniform of the Sing Sing Prison from which he escaped last night.

Mamaroneck, NY police raced against time to remove the body from where it had become lodged in the boulders before the time came back in, submerging the rocks. They successfully identified the body by confirming the number on the uniform matched that of the escaped killer. It is not clear why Dellorto chose to flee to the island, but police suspect he was hoping to murder the lighthouse keeper and go to ground there until his trail grew cold.

Dellorto was convicted of three cases of first degree murder in the winter of 1951, including one G-man, and was suspected of homicide in seven additional cases. It is believed that his crimes were connected to organized crime. He was sentenced to capital punishment, but pardoned after appeal two years ago by Governor Dewey.

Execution Rocks inherits its name from the colonial period, where legend goes that disobedient slaves were shackled at low tide, and served as examples for others, being left there to slowly drown in the pounding waves. This story is considered apocryphal by most, but today, the lighthouse earned its name.

There's another bit pasted a bit lower on the page.


CORRIGENDUM

Gustave Dellorto, who escaped from Sing Sing prison earlier this month, was arrested in Detroit, Michigan, yesterday leaving in his wake a fresh series of murders committed during a two-week spree across several states. It was previously reported in error that he had died by drowning in the Long Island Sound, but the body recovered in that incident is now known to be that of Francis Dapper, age 19 of Larchmont, New York, who had been working at the Purdue Island Yacht Club the evening that Gustave escaped. One of the club launches, which had been brought ashore for the winter, was discovered missing later that week. Police believe that it was probably used by Dellorto to reach the Execution Rocks lighthouse, where he abandoned his victim's body, after swapping clothes to fake his own death in an attempt to evade capture.

>* oh man, this lighthouse is like a mile from where I grew up!
You seem to want to talk to someone, but I can't see whom.

>* all the history is again correct
That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later.

>* (I lived in Sands Point from like 2nd grade through 8th, then I went away to high school in NH)
You seem to want to talk to someone, but I can't see whom.

>a gustave
Carol says, "Sorry, I don't know."

>l
Nursery (Ben Collins-Sussman)
An ideal room for a well-heeled little girl of five. Room furnishings include a bed, a play kitchen, a desk, and a record player. A large bay window occupies most of the external wall, and a large portrait hangs at the foot of the bed. The exit should be to the south, but is currently blocked by a magical mirror.

A tea party with Carol and a bunch of stuffed animals is in full swing in the middle of the room.

You can see the slithering vomit bladder of Katallakh (empty), Carol, a scrapbook and a window (closed) here.

>take bladder
Taken.

>* Oh lovely
That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later.

>put all in vomit
piece of chalk (smelling faintly of mildew): Done.
teapot (smelling faintly of mildew): Done.
old paperback book (smelling faintly of mildew): Done.
round white wall clock (smelling faintly of mildew): Done.
white key: Done.
old newspaper (smelling faintly of mildew): Done.
metal flask (smelling faintly of mildew): Done.
Allen key (smelling faintly of mildew): Done.
brass nameplate (smelling faintly of mildew): Done.
broken knife handle (smelling faintly of mildew): Done.
thin steel key (smelling faintly of mildew): Done.
torn notebook (smelling faintly of mildew): Done.
pink-bound book: Done.
pinch of snail paste (smelling faintly of mildew): Done.
pinch of pepper (smelling faintly of mildew): Done.
total of two grains of salt (smelling faintly of mildew): Done.
pinch of cardamom (smelling faintly of mildew): Done.
pinch of cinnamon (smelling faintly of mildew): Done.
pinch of cardamom (smelling faintly of mildew): Done.
pinch of turmeric (smelling faintly of mildew): Done.
pinch of garlic: Done.
pinch of saffron (smelling faintly of mildew): Done.
Italian magazine cutting (smelling faintly of mildew): Done.
De Zeven Testamenten van de Krijsende Zeeworm (smelling faintly of mildew): Done.
police report ("Francine Cragne") (smelling faintly of mildew): Done.
newspaper clipping ("Rumors of Decapitations") (smelling faintly of mildew): Done.
note from a seesaw (smelling faintly of mildew): Done.
stone earplugs (smelling faintly of mildew): Done.
shard (smelling faintly of mildew): Done.
broken silver amulet: Done.
Mama Hydra's Deep Fried Ones (smelling faintly of mildew): Done.
A Culinary Overview of Superstitions in the Miskaton Valley Region by S. Jarret Zornwharf (smelling faintly of mildew): Done.
Hyper-Gastronomy, Exactness, and String Theory: a Theoretical Subdiscipline of Cooking and Baking by Chef Wheldrake (smelling faintly of mildew): Done.
red-rimmed porcelain plates (smelling faintly of mildew): Done.
Carfax gig poster: Done.

>i
You are carrying:
  the slithering vomit bladder of Katallakh
    a Carfax gig poster
    red-rimmed porcelain plates (smelling faintly of mildew)
    Hyper-Gastronomy, Exactness, and String Theory: a Theoretical Subdiscipline of Cooking and Baking by Chef Wheldrake (smelling faintly of mildew)
    A Culinary Overview of Superstitions in the Miskaton Valley Region by S. Jarret Zornwharf (smelling faintly of mildew)
    Mama Hydra's Deep Fried Ones (smelling faintly of mildew)
    a broken silver amulet
    a shard (smelling faintly of mildew)
    a pair of stone earplugs (smelling faintly of mildew)
    a note from a seesaw (smelling faintly of mildew)
    a newspaper clipping ("Rumors of Decapitations") (smelling faintly of mildew)
    a police report ("Francine Cragne") (smelling faintly of mildew)
    De Zeven Testamenten van de Krijsende Zeeworm (smelling faintly of mildew)
    an Italian magazine cutting (smelling faintly of mildew)
    a pinch of saffron (smelling faintly of mildew)
    a pinch of garlic
    a pinch of turmeric (smelling faintly of mildew)
    a pinch of cardamom (smelling faintly of mildew)
    a pinch of cinnamon (smelling faintly of mildew)
    a pinch of cardamom (smelling faintly of mildew)
    a total of two grains of salt (smelling faintly of mildew)
    a pinch of pepper (smelling faintly of mildew)
    a pinch of snail paste (smelling faintly of mildew)
    a pink-bound book
    a torn notebook (smelling faintly of mildew)
    a thin steel key (smelling faintly of mildew)
    a broken knife handle (smelling faintly of mildew)
    a brass nameplate (smelling faintly of mildew)
    an Allen key (smelling faintly of mildew)
    a metal flask (smelling faintly of mildew)
    an old newspaper (smelling faintly of mildew)
    a white key
    a round white wall clock (smelling faintly of mildew)
    an old paperback book (smelling faintly of mildew)
    a teapot (smelling faintly of mildew)
    a piece of chalk (smelling faintly of mildew)
  the second candle (smelling faintly of mildew)
  the first candle (smelling faintly of mildew)
  red-rimmed porcelain cups (smelling faintly of mildew)
  The Lives of the Roman Emperors (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a pewter box (smelling faintly of mildew) (open but empty)
  a dull machete (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a slip of paper (smelling faintly of mildew)
  some rotten flowers (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a copper urn (smelling faintly of mildew) (open but empty)
  a silver urn (smelling faintly of mildew) (open but empty)
  a bronze urn (smelling faintly of mildew) (open but empty)
  a key from an urn (smelling faintly of mildew)
  some mildewed leather gloves
  a gallon jug of white vinegar (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a pair of garden shears (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a bronze key green from age (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a rusty flathead screwdriver (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a pair of blue cloth slippers (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a trophy for a dog race (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a glass shard (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a black business card
  an aluminum key (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a clipboard
  some yellowed newspapers (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a well-dressed ghost (haunting you) (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a shard of shattered carapace (smelling faintly of mildew)
  an employee ID card (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a book list (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a soggy tome (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a long hooked pole
  a grimy rock (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a library card (smelling faintly of mildew)
  Peter's jacket (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a backpack features guide (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a trolley schedule (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a Jansport backpack (open)
    a hidden pocket (open but empty)
    a key pocket (open but empty)
    a book pocket (open but empty)
    a side pocket (open but empty)
    a trash pocket (closed)
  a pamphlet of home listings (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a moldy, waterlogged journal (smelling faintly of mildew)
  an antique locket (smelling faintly of mildew) (closed)
  a cast iron spire (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a wad of cash (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a repaired page (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a waterproof flashlight (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a tiny leather journal (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a large brass key (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a filthy rug (smelling faintly of mildew)
  Daniel Baker's note (smelling faintly of mildew)
  the diary of Phyllis Cragne (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a postcard of Big Ben (smelling faintly of mildew)
  The Modern Girl's Divination Handbook -- Volume Three (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a pull-string doll (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a label (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a giant milkweed leaf (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a glass jar containing an insect (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a half-full styrofoam coffee cup
  a plastic bubble (open but empty)
  a familiar gold wristwatch (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a brass winding key (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a small blue journal (which you know is a journal because it says "Mein Journal" on the front) (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a bottle of Pepto-Bismol (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a calfskin coat (being worn)
  a trolley pass (being worn)
  a gold jacket (being worn)
  Ed's coveralls (being worn)
  a pair of leather boots

>* Things are just so great for Nitocris
That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later.

>l
Nursery (Ben Collins-Sussman)
An ideal room for a well-heeled little girl of five. Room furnishings include a bed, a play kitchen, a desk, and a record player. A large bay window occupies most of the external wall, and a large portrait hangs at the foot of the bed. The exit should be to the south, but is currently blocked by a magical mirror.

A tea party with Carol and a bunch of stuffed animals is in full swing in the middle of the room.

You can see Carol, a scrapbook and a window (closed) here.

>squeeze bladder
You achieve nothing by this.

>touch it
You feel nothing unexpected.

>taste it
You taste nothing unexpected.

>x player
You can't see any such thing.

>x record
It is a full size record, black vinyl of course, with a cardboard center, labelled "Perry Como Sings Merry Christmas Music". According to the label, it is a 78 rpm album produced by RCA Victor in 1946.

>x record player
A wooden turntable with speakers built into the cabinet rests on a folding wooden table. There is a record on the turntable, but the turntable is off.

>turn on record player
You snatch at it several times, until your brain registers that it is not there. Alarmingly, when your fingers touch the record player they penetrate the surface. You know it is not the case, but visually, it appears that your has been severed neatly at the surface, the fingers lost somewhere in the interior. Reflexively, you whip your hand back.

Carol holds her hands to her face and giggles. "Silly Naomi! You should see the look on your face!"

"That's not something you can play with," instructs Carol. "Not worth the trouble." You can play with my scrapbook, though. I made that real enough because I like to show it off.

>* ah OK
That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later.

>x teapot
One more serving remains in the teapot.

>* wella
That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later.

>bottoms-up
That was unexpected. Flowery. Bit of an aftertaste.

"Is this Jasmine?"

"It's Crisp Hand Sew Mom." Carol struggles with the pronunciation.

"Chrysanthemum?" You offer.

"Yes, that. Grand-uncle's teapot knows all my favorites."

Not only are the two of you now glowing enough to cast shadows around the room, but you notice that little sparks of static electricity scintillating at your fingertips. You hold them up, "Carol, is this normal?"

"Oh yes, it's wonderful, isn't it?"

You do feel wonderful.

The scrapbook pulses with energy.

>x me
This little weekend getaway with Peter has done you some good. So relaxing.

Carol slurps her remaining tea ceremoniously.

>x carol
A pretty young girl, with wavy hair held in place with hair band, penetrating blue eyes, and cherubic cheeks. Her perfectly pressed powder blue dress is cinched at the waist with an oversize bow of matching color, and below it her skirt balloons outward like a parachute. Below that, she wears brilliant white knee socks and polished shoes with small silver buckles.

Carol drains the last few drops from her cup.

>           x scrapbook
The cover of the spiral-bound book is marked in thick black gothic lettering, "Carol's Scrapbook". Little bits of newsprint stick out from the edges of the open book. The bright aura around the scrapbook distorts the air around it; pulses of energy rippling outward from it.

Carol stands up and stretches, lightning arcing from tiny fist to tiny fist about her head.

"Thanks for playing tea party, Aunt Naomi. You played it just the way Christabell taught me. She'd be very proud."

Before you can react, she waves at you, "I've got some things to do now. See you in a bit!"

Suddenly, you find yourself in the hallway.

Upstairs Hall, north end (Jason Love)
Imposing wooden doors lead north to the nursery (which is open) and east ; a smaller doorway between them has been closed off with badly painted bricks. The top of the stairs is accessible through a narrow arch to the west, and the hall continues to the south.

A massive black armoire stands sealed against the north-west wall.

>undo
Nursery (Ben Collins-Sussman)
[Previous turn undone.]

>open scrapbook
Carol reads along, over your shoulder. In keeping with the cover, the scrapbook contains a number of newspaper clippings, bearing the titles: Shark Attack, Actress Disappears, Body Found, Watery Fate for Convict and Boat Wreck On Sable Island.

Carol stands up and stretches, lightning arcing from tiny fist to tiny fist about her head.

"Thanks for playing tea party, Aunt Naomi. You played it just the way Christabell taught me. She'd be very proud."

Before you can react, she waves at you, "I've got some things to do now. See you in a bit!"

Suddenly, you find yourself in the hallway.

Upstairs Hall, north end (Jason Love)
Imposing wooden doors lead north to the nursery (which is open) and east ; a smaller doorway between them has been closed off with badly painted bricks. The top of the stairs is accessible through a narrow arch to the west, and the hall continues to the south.

A massive black armoire stands sealed against the north-west wall.

>undo
Nursery (Ben Collins-Sussman)
[Previous turn undone.]

>read boat
A 12-man fishing boat, the Miss Step, out of Halifax, was found wrecked yesterday with loss of all hands on Sable Island, a small, isolated island in the Atlantic Ocean, 190 miles southeast of Halifax. The vessel grounded on an sandy bar near the eastern end of the island and by report was discovered yesterday morning by Ronald Lefevre, sub-intendent of the Sable Island Rescue Station. Subsequently, both Mr. Lefevre and Scott McCallister, who was in charge of the two-man Rescue Station, were also lost.

The only other inhabitant of the island, Dr. Martha Klein, reported yesterday's events to the Canadian Coast Guard cutter Hermes by shortwave radio at 10:20 a.m. yesterday morning before herself going missing. The Hermes reached the island within the next two hours, but was unable to launch small landing craft because of gale force squalls. When they did make landfall late that afternoon, there was no evidence of the wreck. The search the island's three inhabitants was aborted this morning due to further foul weather; additional Coast Guard vessels are en route as we go to press.

The Coast Guard has refused to comment on the matter, but a ham radio operator, Edmund Finister, from Prince Edward Island, gave the following account to the press:

"I sometimes listen to the reports going back and forth between Dr. Klein at the Meteorological Station and the mainland, and I wasn't expecting anything at that time of day, but I just happened to have the radio on, more or less to keep the shack warm. Then, out of the blue, I hear Dr. Klein, and she normally has kind of a lilting, friendly voice, but I could hear that she was shaken up. I was in the other room, so I only caught the last part of it, but she was speaking almost too calmly, trying to give all the details, but I could tell she was a hair's breadth from having a breakdown."

"She's talking to the sparky on the cutter, and saying that first the one guy, Lefevre came speeding back along the beach in his jeep to get McCallister, because he had discovered the fishing boat on its side up on the sand. They asked Dr. Klein to call it in and they both took off again, even though Lefevre had said that when he had seen it the first time, he had a good look around and there were no survivors."

"Now, what's weird is what Lefevre told Klein -- while there were no bodies aboard, there were these? things. I only know what she said on the air, that Lefevre had said that there were these fleshy things all over the ship, in different parts of it, down below, up on the deck. They were whitish or translucent, sort of long tubes of the stuff. Heavy, deadweight if you tried to move them. Some were wrapped up in foul weather jackets, and one that Lefevre poked had some coins embedded in it, about halfway up, he said, just a couple inches deep. His best guess was that they were whale fat since they were so oily, but he was just guessing. Also, he said they had kind of a musky smell."

"Whatever they were, they're gone now. All of them."

Carol stands up and stretches, lightning arcing from tiny fist to tiny fist about her head.

"Thanks for playing tea party, Aunt Naomi. You played it just the way Christabell taught me. She'd be very proud."

Before you can react, she waves at you, "I've got some things to do now. See you in a bit!"

Suddenly, you find yourself in the hallway.

Upstairs Hall, north end (Jason Love)
Imposing wooden doors lead north to the nursery (which is open) and east ; a smaller doorway between them has been closed off with badly painted bricks. The top of the stairs is accessible through a narrow arch to the west, and the hall continues to the south.

A massive black armoire stands sealed against the north-west wall.

>* OK that was creepy
That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later.

>x coffee
The clouds in your cup form a centaur. Images of strange hybrids mean that some challenges in your current environment can be defeated with what you already possess, while others will require outside assistance.

>n
Just down the side corridor to the north, you notice a closed door that says "Carol's Room" and below that, "Napping Kindergartner -- DO NOT WAKE!" and finally, at the bottom in smaller letters, "Come back later when awake. Signed, Victor Cragne".

>* huh
That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later.

>e
You can't go that way.

>x armoire
You can't see any such thing.

>l
Carol's Room (Ben Collins-Sussman)
You can see a door to Carol's room here.

>open door
There is nothing at all arbitrary about the justice meted out for waking a cranky kindergartner in Crange Mansion.

Dungeon
You find yourself in a dungeon, strapped by to a toffee table by candy cane manacles and slathered with delicious honey. A stalactite drips dark chocolate over your belly, luscious rivulets pooling in the small of your back.

The ants pour in, their mandibles clacking.



    *** EATEN ***



Would you like to RESTART, RESTORE a saved game, QUIT, UNDO the last command or TAKE BACK the action that sealed your fate (for when UNDO is not enough)?
> undo
Carol's Room (Ben Collins-Sussman)
[Previous turn undone.]

>* oh geez
That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later.

>s

Upstairs Hall, north end (Jason Love)
Imposing wooden doors lead north to the nursery (which is open) and east ; a smaller doorway between them has been closed off with badly painted bricks. The top of the stairs is accessible through a narrow arch to the west, and the hall continues to the south.

A massive black armoire stands sealed against the north-west wall.

>x armoire
The massive wardrobe is wider than you can reach with your arms extended. Weathered wooden boards have been nailed across the doors in four places.

>open it
It's too big, too heavy, and too nailed-shut to mess with right now.

>n
Just down the side corridor to the north, you notice a closed door that says "Carol's Room" and below that, "Napping Kindergartner -- DO NOT WAKE!" and finally, at the bottom in smaller letters, "Come back later when awake. Signed, Victor Cragne".

>x coffee
This is odd. As you watch the clouds in your cup, they form a pair of perfectly shaped hearts that orbit the cup, maintaining a steady distance from each other.

You remember that twin objects like this mean you are split between two intricately entangled destinies, and that at any given moment, one of them will be the right place for you to be, but the coffee can't tell which. Way to drop the ball there, coffee.

>* ah, I see
You seem to want to talk to someone, but I can't see whom.

>s

Upstairs Hall, north end (Jason Love)
Imposing wooden doors lead north to the nursery (which is open) and east ; a smaller doorway between them has been closed off with badly painted bricks. The top of the stairs is accessible through a narrow arch to the west, and the hall continues to the south.

A massive black armoire stands sealed against the north-west wall.

>* we'll go back to Christabell next
That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later.

>* what do you want from me, armoire???
You seem to want to talk to someone, but I can't see whom.

>s

Hallway South (Matt Schneider)
The threadbare carpet holds only the vaguest hints of its original hue, and the yellowing wallpaper is crisscrossed with a web of cracks.

The hallway feels narrow?no, that's not right. The hallway is wide enough for two people to pass one another easily. It doesn't feel narrow: it feels thin. The hallway continues to the north, and there are doors leading to the west, south, and east.

Partway down the hall, a black pen floats a couple feet off the ground, as if resting on a table or desk. It does not, however, appear to be sitting on anything.

>* all right
That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later.

>* Matt Schneider is another author who hasn't done anything but this, so that's exciting!
You seem to want to talk to someone, but I can't see whom.

>x carpet
Generations of feet have worn an off-white strip down the hallway that branches into each room. Where the walls meet the floor you can just barely make out hints of the forest-green of the carpet.

The hallway fills with a flash of light and shadows flee down the hall. Moments later the clap of thunder causes the entire house to shake and groan.

>* eek!
That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later.

>* At least it (mostly) wasn't raining while I was outside
That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later.

>x stripe
You can't see any such thing.

> x wallpaper
The surface of the wallpaper is covered with small cracks that criss-cross it in a spiderweb-like fashion. They converge halfway down the hall in a small hole, through which you can see a faint, flickering light. The edges of the hole curl back and look like they could be torn further.

>* oh, weird
You seem to want to talk to someone, but I can't see whom.

>x hole
(the hole)
Through the hole you can see a void that seems to glow faintly with a swirling white light. In the distance you can just make out the shapes of words, but you can't see them clearly enough from here to make sense of them.

>look through hole
(the hole)
The paper tears away in thin strips, opening up into a gently glowing, three-foot-wide void that stretches nearly from the floor to the ceiling. You think you can see words in there, but you can't quite read them from out here.

You hear an electronic humming noise coming from the hole in the wallpaper. 

>x words
You can't see any such thing.

>listen
You hear nothing unexpected.

>* urm
That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later.

>l
Hallway South (Matt Schneider)
The threadbare carpet holds only the vaguest hints of its original hue, and the yellowing wallpaper is crisscrossed with a web of cracks. The hole that you tore through the wallpaper emits a gentle light. The hallway continues to the north, and there are doors leading to the west, south, and east.

Partway down the hall, a black pen floats a couple feet off the ground, as if resting on a table or desk. It does not, however, appear to be sitting on anything.

>x pen
A black fountain pen. It looks like the ink is long dried up.

>take it
Taken.

>x it
A black fountain pen. It looks like the ink is long dried up.

>open it
It isn't something you can open.

>in

A Liminal Space
Printed name of M2F7 is "Hallway South (Matt Schneider)".

Description of M2F7 is "The threadbare carpet holds only the vagues hints of its original hue, and the yellowing wallpaper is crisscrossed with a web of cracks.[if schneider-wallpaper is schneider-torn] The hole that you tore through the wallpaper emits a gentle light.[end if][If unvisited][paragraph break]The hallway feels narrow[unicode 8212]no, that's not right. The hallway is wide enough for two people to pass one another easily. It doesn't feel narrow: it feels thin.[end if] The hallway continues to the north, and there are doors leading to the west, south, and east.".

The schneider-wallpaper is scenery in M2F7. Understand "wallpaper", "cracks", "web", and "paper" as schneider-wallpaper. Schneider-wallpaper can be schneider-torn or schneider-untorn. schneider-wallpaper is schneider-untorn. The description of schneider-wallpaper is "[if schneider-wallpaper is schneider-untorn]The surface of the wallpaper is covered with small cracks that criss-cross it in a spiderweb-like fashion. They converge halfway down the hall in a small hole, through which you can see a faint, flickering light. The edges of the hole curl back and look like they could be torn further.[else]The wallpaper hangs limply open where you tore it. A soft light pulsates in the void behind the wall.[end if]". The printed name of schneider-wallpaper is "wallpaper".

The schneider-desk is a supporter in M2F7. Schneider-desk is scenery. The printed name of schneider-desk is "desk". Understand "desk" as schneider-desk. The schneider-drawer is a closed, openable, opaque container that is part of schneider-desk. The printed name of schneider-drawer is "drawer". Understand "drawer" as schneider-drawer.

The schneider-pen is a thing in M2F7. The description of schneider-pen is "A black fountain pen. It looks like the ink is long dried up." The printed name of schneider-pen is "black fountain pen". Understand "pen" and "fountain pen" as schneider-pen.

The schneider-typescript is a library-book inside schneider-drawer. Understand "typescript" as schneider-typescript. The printed name of schneider-typescript is "bound typescript".

>* umm holy crap
That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later.

>* this is a hell of a move
That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later.

>* just, bravo
You seem to want to talk to someone, but I can't see whom.

>in
They tried to move, but couldn't propel their body through the void.

>l
A Liminal Space
Printed name of M2F7 is "Hallway South (Matt Schneider)".

Description of M2F7 is "The threadbare carpet holds only the vagues hints of its original hue, and the yellowing wallpaper is crisscrossed with a web of cracks.[if schneider-wallpaper is schneider-torn] The hole that you tore through the wallpaper emits a gentle light.[end if][If unvisited][paragraph break]The hallway feels narrow[unicode 8212]no, that's not right. The hallway is wide enough for two people to pass one another easily. It doesn't feel narrow: it feels thin.[end if] The hallway continues to the north, and there are doors leading to the west, south, and east.".

The schneider-wallpaper is scenery in M2F7. Understand "wallpaper", "cracks", "web", and "paper" as schneider-wallpaper. Schneider-wallpaper can be schneider-torn or schneider-untorn. schneider-wallpaper is schneider-untorn. The description of schneider-wallpaper is "[if schneider-wallpaper is schneider-untorn]The surface of the wallpaper is covered with small cracks that criss-cross it in a spiderweb-like fashion. They converge halfway down the hall in a small hole, through which you can see a faint, flickering light. The edges of the hole curl back and look like they could be torn further.[else]The wallpaper hangs limply open where you tore it. A soft light pulsates in the void behind the wall.[end if]". The printed name of schneider-wallpaper is "wallpaper".

The schneider-desk is a supporter in M2F7. Schneider-desk is scenery. The printed name of schneider-desk is "desk". Understand "desk" as schneider-desk. The schneider-drawer is a closed, openable, opaque container that is part of schneider-desk. The printed name of schneider-drawer is "drawer". Understand "drawer" as schneider-drawer.

The schneider-pen is a thing in M2F7. The description of schneider-pen is "A black fountain pen. It looks like the ink is long dried up." The printed name of schneider-pen is "black fountain pen". Understand "pen" and "fountain pen" as schneider-pen.

The schneider-typescript is a library-book inside schneider-drawer. Understand "typescript" as schneider-typescript. The printed name of schneider-typescript is "bound typescript".

>x desk
They saw it. This was it. But where was it?

>open drawer
They couldn't see any such thing.

>enter
You must supply a noun.

>in
They tried to move, but couldn't propel their body through the void.

>s
They tried to move, but couldn't propel their body through the void.

>w
They tried to move, but couldn't propel their body through the void.

>x me
They saw themselves for who they were, avatar and player. Hello.

>hello
(addressing the well-dressed ghost (smelling faintly of mildew))
They said hello to the well-dressed ghost (smelling faintly of mildew).

>exit

Hallway South (Matt Schneider)
The threadbare carpet holds only the vaguest hints of its original hue, and the yellowing wallpaper is crisscrossed with a web of cracks. The hole that you tore through the wallpaper emits a gentle light. The hallway continues to the north, and there are doors leading to the west, south, and east.

>* whew
That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later.

>x desk
You feel your way down the hall slowly until your hand comes to rest on something. You can't see the desk, but as you run your hands across it, it appears to be waist-height, wooden, and has a drawer of some kind on the front.

A sudden sparking noise echoes inside the hole. 

>x hole
(the hole)
The void glows with a milky-white light. In the distance you can just make out the shapes of words, but you can't see them clearly enough from here to make sense of them.

>enter hole
(the hole)

A Liminal Space
Printed name of M2F7 is "Hallway South (Matt Schneider)".

Description of M2F7 is "The threadbare carpet holds only the vagues hints of its original hue, and the yellowing wallpaper is crisscrossed with a web of cracks.[if schneider-wallpaper is schneider-torn] The hole that you tore through the wallpaper emits a gentle light.[end if][If unvisited][paragraph break]The hallway feels narrow[unicode 8212]no, that's not right. The hallway is wide enough for two people to pass one another easily. It doesn't feel narrow: it feels thin.[end if] The hallway continues to the north, and there are doors leading to the west, south, and east.".

The schneider-wallpaper is scenery in M2F7. Understand "wallpaper", "cracks", "web", and "paper" as schneider-wallpaper. Schneider-wallpaper can be schneider-torn or schneider-untorn. schneider-wallpaper is schneider-untorn. The description of schneider-wallpaper is "[if schneider-wallpaper is schneider-untorn]The surface of the wallpaper is covered with small cracks that criss-cross it in a spiderweb-like fashion. They converge halfway down the hall in a small hole, through which you can see a faint, flickering light. The edges of the hole curl back and look like they could be torn further.[else]The wallpaper hangs limply open where you tore it. A soft light pulsates in the void behind the wall.[end if]". The printed name of schneider-wallpaper is "wallpaper".

The schneider-desk is a supporter in M2F7. Schneider-desk is scenery. The printed name of schneider-desk is "desk". Understand "desk" as schneider-desk. The schneider-drawer is a closed, openable, opaque container that is part of schneider-desk. The printed name of schneider-drawer is "drawer". Understand "drawer" as schneider-drawer.

The schneider-pen is a thing in M2F7. The description of schneider-pen is "A black fountain pen. It looks like the ink is long dried up." The printed name of schneider-pen is "black fountain pen". Understand "pen" and "fountain pen" as schneider-pen.

The schneider-typescript is a library-book inside schneider-drawer. Understand "typescript" as schneider-typescript. The printed name of schneider-typescript is "bound typescript".

>exit

Hallway South (Matt Schneider)
The threadbare carpet holds only the vaguest hints of its original hue, and the yellowing wallpaper is crisscrossed with a web of cracks. The hole that you tore through the wallpaper emits a gentle light. The hallway continues to the north, and there are doors leading to the west, south, and east.

>open drawer
You open the drawer, revealing a bound typescript.

A ghastly spectral cuckoo flies out of the round white wall clock (smelling faintly of mildew) and proclaims, "The time is now six o'clock!" before vanishing into thin air.

>x typescript
The book is bound in a cheap, rough, green cloth, with the title 'Pataphysical Approaches to Quantum Superfluids and the name Aster Cragne embossed in gold leaf. The pages appear to have been printed on continuous paper, then separated and gathered together?a dissertation, perhaps? There's a sticker with a Dewey number stuck to the spine, and on the title page you see the stamp of the insignia of the Backwater Public Library.

>* yay, one more off the list
You seem to want to talk to someone, but I can't see whom.

>x list
(the book list (smelling faintly of mildew))
ATTENTION PETER CRAGNE

This is your notification that your status with the Backwater Public Library is DELINQUENT due to NON-RETURNAL.
You are NOT PERMITTED to check out books or to access special library materials until your status is cleared.

To clear your status, you must return ALL books you currently have checked out:

    To Have, and To Have Knots: An Illustrated Guide
    Backwater Personalities (1915-1925 edition)
    The Lives of the Roman Emperors
    De Zeven Testamenten van de Krijsende Zeeworm
    Venator in Tenebris
    'Pataphysical Approaches to Quantum Superfluids
    Legends of Lake Champlain and the Hudson River Valley
    A Rudimentary Taxonomy of Known Scent and Grotesque Reactions
    Life Beneath Nightmares
    Buried Tales of Old Vermont
    The Seven Gaunts
    New England and the Bavarian Illuminati
    ANCHORHEAD. A What-do-I-do-now Book Based on the Works of MICHAEL GENTRY

...Huh, you could have sworn that the list was longer before.

The light in the void swells, casting strange shadows in the hallway. 

>* 8 eft
That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later.

>x pataphysical
The book is bound in a cheap, rough, green cloth, with the title 'Pataphysical Approaches to Quantum Superfluids and the name Aster Cragne embossed in gold leaf. The pages appear to have been printed on continuous paper, then separated and gathered together?a dissertation, perhaps? There's a sticker with a Dewey number stuck to the spine, and on the title page you see the stamp of the insignia of the Backwater Public Library.

>read it
(first taking the 'Pataphysical Approaches to Quantum Superfluids)
The book appears to be a scholarly monograph or a dissertation. You try to make sense of it, but the contents are incomprehensible: you struggle with sentences that declare matter-of-factly "the behaviour of cubits in a hasturian environment is well-known, although not often remarked upon", or propose that "we must now consider the implications of quantum entanglement in non-euclidian dimensions in light of recent discoveries regarding spacetime foam."

The chapter entitled "The Vaadignephod Paradox" takes up at least seventy pages, and could well be, from all the subclauses and parenthetical diversions, a single, unbroken sentence. The chapter appears to describe the creation of a new element that, according to the typescript, "exhibits remarkable sub-quantum effects when exposed to nanomolecular compounds" but you can't determine whether this is a theoretical proposal or the records of an experiment that has already been conducted.

There are notes written in the margins throughout the book both in pencil and in a blue-black ink that's left acidic yellow burns on the facing pages.

The book concludes with the statement "And so I can only conclude that the holographic paradigm is presently the most compelling explanation for the heretofore discussed processes, effects, and phenomena." Written in pencil beneath this is the question "Cad faoi an leabhar na rí bhuí?".

The well-dressed man's outline coalesces into form like ice spreading across a pond.  Pleased, he watches his hands move, and brushes a bit of frost off of a shoulder.  Then he starts and looks away, as if remembering something.  His features darken and the air goes cold as he frowns.

With a scowl and a sense of purpose, the well-dressed man fades away.  You think you caught a glimpse of brick and ivy, and heard the sound of running water as he disappeared.

A sudden sparking noise echoes inside the hole. 

>* ...okay, I know a reasonable amount of French, and as this thread has demonstrated, have enough Latin to get myself into trouble
You seem to want to talk to someone, but I can't see whom.

>* But Irish is way above my pay grade
That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later.

>* What about a/the book the bird?
That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later.

>* like plover?
That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later.

>* is that an in-joke
That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later.

>plugh
That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later.

>plover
That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later.

>* also the ghost went off to the fountain I guess?
That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later.

>l
Hallway South (Matt Schneider)
The threadbare carpet holds only the vaguest hints of its original hue, and the yellowing wallpaper is crisscrossed with a web of cracks. The hole that you tore through the wallpaper emits a gentle light. The hallway continues to the north, and there are doors leading to the west, south, and east.

The hallway fills with a flash of light and shadows flee down the hall. Moments later the clap of thunder causes the entire house to shake and groan.

>* I kinda miss the guy
That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later.

>x coffee
The clouds in your cup form a bactrian camel. Modes of transportation mean that your current environment presents challenges that can only be overcome by seeking fresh perspectives elsewhere until you're ready to return.

>* locks, I assume
You seem to want to talk to someone, but I can't see whom.

>x east
You see nothing unexpected in that direction.

White light flickers from somewhere inside the hole in the wallpaper. 

>open east door
You can't see any such thing.

>e

Library (Mike Spivey)
This library features dark paneling, polished hardwood floors, and thousands of books.  A mahogany desk sits against the one part of the walls not lined with books.  Above the desk hangs an ominous-looking painting.  An antique wingback chair provides a place for quiet study, while in the center of the room is a reading podium.  The only exit is west, back to the hallway.

A massive tome sits on the podium.

>undo
Hallway South (Matt Schneider)
[Previous turn undone.]

>s
(first opening the wooden door)
It seems to be locked.

>x wooden
A broken wooden knife handle. The blade is long gone, but there are dark stains at one end.

A faint smell of mildew emanates from it.

>x wooden door
I only understood you as far as wanting to examine the broken knife handle (smelling faintly of mildew).

>put wooden in junk pocket
You unzip the trash pocket, deposit the broken knife handle (smelling faintly of mildew), then zip the trash pocket back up again.

The light in the void swells, casting strange shadows in the hallway. 

>x wooden
You can't see any such thing.

>x wooden door
You can't see any such thing.

>x door
A simple door, made from a rich, dark wood. An oval window takes up the upper third of the door, but is covered in such a thick layer of dust and grime that you can hardly see through it. The small brass knob is surrounded by a circular design of inlaid triangles cut out of deep, reddish-brown cherry wood. You can see the purple flicker of sheet lightning through the filthy window.

White light flickers from somewhere inside the hole in the wallpaper. 

Shadows distinguish themselves from the gloom of the hallways as the cloud cover thins slightly.

>x window
A simple door, made from a rich, dark wood. An oval window takes up the upper third of the door, but is covered in such a thick layer of dust and grime that you can hardly see through it. The small brass knob is surrounded by a circular design of inlaid triangles cut out of deep, reddish-brown cherry wood. The dull, grey light of the day barely penetrates the layers of grime on the window.

You hear an electronic humming noise coming from the hole in the wallpaper. 

>look through window
You find nothing of interest.

A sudden sparking noise echoes inside the hole. 

>clean window
You rub the wooden door.

>x knob
A simple door, made from a rich, dark wood. An oval window takes up the upper third of the door, but is covered in such a thick layer of dust and grime that you can hardly see through it. The small brass knob is surrounded by a circular design of inlaid triangles cut out of deep, reddish-brown cherry wood. You catch a glimpse of the sun through the window before the clouds thicken again.

>unlock it
What do you want to unlock the wooden door with?

>large brass
You can't see any such thing.

>i
You are carrying:
  a 'Pataphysical Approaches to Quantum Superfluids
  a black fountain pen
  a teapot (smelling faintly of mildew)
  the slithering vomit bladder of Katallakh
    a Carfax gig poster
    red-rimmed porcelain plates (smelling faintly of mildew)
    Hyper-Gastronomy, Exactness, and String Theory: a Theoretical Subdiscipline of Cooking and Baking by Chef Wheldrake (smelling faintly of mildew)
    A Culinary Overview of Superstitions in the Miskaton Valley Region by S. Jarret Zornwharf (smelling faintly of mildew)
    Mama Hydra's Deep Fried Ones (smelling faintly of mildew)
    a broken silver amulet
    a shard (smelling faintly of mildew)
    a pair of stone earplugs (smelling faintly of mildew)
    a note from a seesaw (smelling faintly of mildew)
    a newspaper clipping ("Rumors of Decapitations") (smelling faintly of mildew)
    a police report ("Francine Cragne") (smelling faintly of mildew)
    De Zeven Testamenten van de Krijsende Zeeworm (smelling faintly of mildew)
    an Italian magazine cutting (smelling faintly of mildew)
    a pinch of saffron (smelling faintly of mildew)
    a pinch of garlic
    a pinch of turmeric (smelling faintly of mildew)
    a pinch of cardamom (smelling faintly of mildew)
    a pinch of cinnamon (smelling faintly of mildew)
    a pinch of cardamom (smelling faintly of mildew)
    a total of two grains of salt (smelling faintly of mildew)
    a pinch of pepper (smelling faintly of mildew)
    a pinch of snail paste (smelling faintly of mildew)
    a pink-bound book
    a torn notebook (smelling faintly of mildew)
    a thin steel key (smelling faintly of mildew)
    a brass nameplate (smelling faintly of mildew)
    an Allen key (smelling faintly of mildew)
    a metal flask (smelling faintly of mildew)
    an old newspaper (smelling faintly of mildew)
    a white key
    a round white wall clock (smelling faintly of mildew)
    an old paperback book (smelling faintly of mildew)
    a piece of chalk (smelling faintly of mildew)
  the second candle (smelling faintly of mildew)
  the first candle (smelling faintly of mildew)
  red-rimmed porcelain cups (smelling faintly of mildew)
  The Lives of the Roman Emperors (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a pewter box (smelling faintly of mildew) (open but empty)
  a dull machete (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a slip of paper (smelling faintly of mildew)
  some rotten flowers (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a copper urn (smelling faintly of mildew) (open but empty)
  a silver urn (smelling faintly of mildew) (open but empty)
  a bronze urn (smelling faintly of mildew) (open but empty)
  a key from an urn (smelling faintly of mildew)
  some mildewed leather gloves
  a gallon jug of white vinegar (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a pair of garden shears (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a bronze key green from age (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a rusty flathead screwdriver (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a pair of blue cloth slippers (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a trophy for a dog race (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a glass shard (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a black business card
  an aluminum key (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a clipboard (smelling faintly of mildew)
  some yellowed newspapers (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a shard of shattered carapace (smelling faintly of mildew)
  an employee ID card (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a book list (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a soggy tome (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a long hooked pole (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a grimy rock (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a library card (smelling faintly of mildew)
  Peter's jacket (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a backpack features guide (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a trolley schedule (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a Jansport backpack (open)
    a hidden pocket (open but empty)
    a key pocket (open but empty)
    a book pocket (open but empty)
    a side pocket (open but empty)
    a trash pocket (closed)
  a pamphlet of home listings (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a moldy, waterlogged journal (smelling faintly of mildew)
  an antique locket (smelling faintly of mildew) (closed)
  a cast iron spire (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a wad of cash (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a repaired page (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a waterproof flashlight (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a tiny leather journal (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a large brass key (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a filthy rug (smelling faintly of mildew)
  Daniel Baker's note (smelling faintly of mildew)
  the diary of Phyllis Cragne (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a postcard of Big Ben (smelling faintly of mildew)
  The Modern Girl's Divination Handbook -- Volume Three (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a pull-string doll (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a label (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a giant milkweed leaf (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a glass jar containing an insect (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a half-full styrofoam coffee cup
  a plastic bubble (open but empty)
  a familiar gold wristwatch (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a brass winding key (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a small blue journal (which you know is a journal because it says "Mein Journal" on the front) (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a bottle of Pepto-Bismol (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a calfskin coat (being worn)
  a trolley pass (being worn)
  a gold jacket (being worn)
  Ed's coveralls (being worn)
  a pair of leather boots

Lightning in the distance causes the shadows to dance for a moment.

>w

Study (Ian Holmes)
"Kind people call them sunbeams," your mother told you, as a child, when you asked about the dust particles catching the light in your living room. Later, you read that much of it was arthropod waste: shredded cobwebs, insect corpses, mites fed on human skin.

Barely a sunbeam reaches this study. Dust cakes the desk, drapes, and book-lined shelves like a bug mass grave. More insect bodies litter the carpet in earlier states of decay. The exit is east.

Even now, being in a study makes you feel vaguely guilty. Like an impostor.

>undo
Hallway South (Matt Schneider)
[Previous turn undone.]

>* OK, south is locked and we'll need a key to get in
You seem to want to talk to someone, but I can't see whom.

>* let's save the library for next time
That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later.

>w

Study (Ian Holmes)
"Kind people call them sunbeams," your mother told you, as a child, when you asked about the dust particles catching the light in your living room. Later, you read that much of it was arthropod waste: shredded cobwebs, insect corpses, mites fed on human skin.

Barely a sunbeam reaches this study. Dust cakes the desk, drapes, and book-lined shelves like a bug mass grave. More insect bodies litter the carpet in earlier states of decay. The exit is east.

Even now, being in a study makes you feel vaguely guilty. Like an impostor.

>x me
As good-looking as ever.

You do notice a key on the bookshelf. It is probably significant.

No, let me rephrase that; it is the ONLY reason a plebeian like you would stray into this temple of learning. So pick it up and get out of here.

A Rusty Iron Key.

>e

Hallway South (Matt Schneider)
The threadbare carpet holds only the vaguest hints of its original hue, and the yellowing wallpaper is crisscrossed with a web of cracks. The hole that you tore through the wallpaper emits a gentle light. The hallway continues to the north, and there are doors leading to the west, south, and east.

The light in the void swells, casting strange shadows in the hallway. 

> x me
You feel thinner than normal?but not you, just your skin, as if it were stretched across the surface of your body. It doesn't look taut or stretched, but you feel like you could pierce it with your fingernail.

>x skin
You feel thinner than normal?but not you, just your skin, as if it were stretched across the surface of your body. It doesn't look taut or stretched, but you feel like you could pierce it with your fingernail.

>cut skin
Cutting you up would achieve little.

A sudden sparking noise echoes inside the hole. 

>pierce skin
That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later.

>w

Study (Ian Holmes)
Barely a sunbeam reaches this study. Dust cakes the desk, drapes, and book-lined shelves like a bug mass grave. More insect bodies litter the carpet in earlier states of decay. The exit is east.

You definitely feel guilty. As if the headmaster is coming.

On the bookshelf is a small rusty iron key.

>x desk
The desk is clear, except for a framed photograph and a notepad.

>x photo
Which do you mean, the photo, the chronovisor photo or the blurry photo?

>framed
You can't see any such thing.

>x framed photograph
You can't see any such thing.

>x photo
Which do you mean, the photo, the chronovisor photo or the blurry photo?

>the photo
Which do you mean, the photo, the chronovisor photo or the blurry photo?

>* sigh
You can't see any such thing.

>put photo in junk pocket
Which do you mean, the photo, the chronovisor photo or the blurry photo?

>both
photo: Your own memories are scary enough.

chronovisor photo: That seems to be a part of the Italian magazine cutting (smelling faintly of mildew).

blurry photo: That seems to be a part of the employee ID card (smelling faintly of mildew).

>put id card in junk pocket
Which do you mean, the employee ID card (smelling faintly of mildew) or the library card (smelling faintly of mildew)?

>both
employee ID card (smelling faintly of mildew): You unzip the trash pocket, deposit the employee ID card (smelling faintly of mildew), then zip the trash pocket back up again.
library card (smelling faintly of mildew): You unzip the trash pocket, deposit the library card (smelling faintly of mildew), then zip the trash pocket back up again.

>put italian in junk pocket
You unzip the trash pocket, deposit the Italian magazine cutting (smelling faintly of mildew), then zip the trash pocket back up again.

>l
Study (Ian Holmes)
Barely a sunbeam reaches this study. Dust cakes the desk, drapes, and book-lined shelves like a bug mass grave. More insect bodies litter the carpet in earlier states of decay. The exit is east.

You definitely feel guilty. As if...

On the bookshelf is a small rusty iron key.

On the desk are a notepad and a photo.

>x photo
It depicts a snake (specifically, an Eastern Ratsnake, according to the caption) in the act of raiding a finches nest. Having strangled a mother finch, its jaws open wide as it loops back around to bite.

What, you think finding the key makes you clever? You were obviously meant to find it.

>* eek
That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later.

>take photo
Your own memories are scary enough.

>l
Study (Ian Holmes)
Barely a sunbeam reaches this study. Dust cakes the desk, drapes, and book-lined shelves like a bug mass grave. More insect bodies litter the carpet in earlier states of decay. The exit is east.

Once, in the Headmaster's Study... no. Don't go there.

On the bookshelf is a small rusty iron key.

On the desk are a notepad and a photo.

>x desk
On the desk are a notepad and a photo.

You think of your parents now, and how much of a disappointment to them you must be.

>x notepad
Written on the paper are some mathematical notes that are just beyond your ability to grasp. You think you know what they mean but, as your eyes unfocus, you have trouble recalling even basic stuff. Like Liouville's Theorem, or the uses of the Wronskian.

You are unable to decode mathematics, to solve problems like Werner or Emmy could.

>* umm, I'm not sure Nitocris had a brother named "Werner" so I'm guessing this is sobebody else's memories
You seem to want to talk to someone, but I can't see whom.

>take notepad
You reach out for the pad, and think twice. Maybe you should try to understand it first. You know, before you steal it.

>read it
Written on the paper are some mathematical notes that are just beyond your ability to grasp. You think you know what they mean but, as your eyes unfocus, you have trouble recalling even basic stuff. Like Liouville's Theorem, or the uses of the Wronskian.

>l
Study (Ian Holmes)
Barely a sunbeam reaches this study. Dust cakes the desk, drapes, and book-lined shelves like a bug mass grave. More insect bodies litter the carpet in earlier states of decay. The exit is east.

You definitely feel guilty.

On the bookshelf is a small rusty iron key.

On the desk are a notepad and a photo.

>x drapes
Hideous... if reminiscent of the drapes your mother chose for your childhood room. (Insisting all the while on her superior taste and wisdom, in that overbearing way she had.)

Just gonna keep examining stuff, huh.

>look behind drapes
You can't see any such thing.

>take drapes
That's hardly portable.

>pull drapes
It is fixed in place.

>open drapes
It isn't something you can open.

>x shelves
It's just a bookshelf. Mahogany or something.

On the bookshelf are a snowglobe and a small rusty iron key.

You are so bored.

>x snowglobe
Inside the snowglobe is a microscopic world that is exactly like this one in every respect, but tinier in exact proportion. Except your own worth as a human being, which is tinier out of ALL proportion. And it's already pretty tiny in this world, the original world.

So that's kind of incredible.

>* BTW, Ian Holmes of course was Bilbo Baggins in the LOTR trilogy
You seem to want to talk to someone, but I can't see whom.

>* (That was Holm, I've got nothing)
You seem to want to talk to someone, but I can't see whom.

>shake it
That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later.

>take it
Taken.

>i
You are carrying:
  a snowglobe
  a 'Pataphysical Approaches to Quantum Superfluids
  a black fountain pen
  a teapot (smelling faintly of mildew)
  the slithering vomit bladder of Katallakh (smelling faintly of mildew)
    a Carfax gig poster
    red-rimmed porcelain plates (smelling faintly of mildew)
    Hyper-Gastronomy, Exactness, and String Theory: a Theoretical Subdiscipline of Cooking and Baking by Chef Wheldrake (smelling faintly of mildew)
    A Culinary Overview of Superstitions in the Miskaton Valley Region by S. Jarret Zornwharf (smelling faintly of mildew)
    Mama Hydra's Deep Fried Ones (smelling faintly of mildew)
    a broken silver amulet
    a shard (smelling faintly of mildew)
    a pair of stone earplugs (smelling faintly of mildew)
    a note from a seesaw (smelling faintly of mildew)
    a newspaper clipping ("Rumors of Decapitations") (smelling faintly of mildew)
    a police report ("Francine Cragne") (smelling faintly of mildew)
    De Zeven Testamenten van de Krijsende Zeeworm (smelling faintly of mildew)
    a pinch of saffron (smelling faintly of mildew)
    a pinch of garlic
    a pinch of turmeric (smelling faintly of mildew)
    a pinch of cardamom (smelling faintly of mildew)
    a pinch of cinnamon (smelling faintly of mildew)
    a pinch of cardamom (smelling faintly of mildew)
    a total of two grains of salt (smelling faintly of mildew)
    a pinch of pepper (smelling faintly of mildew)
    a pinch of snail paste (smelling faintly of mildew)
    a pink-bound book
    a torn notebook (smelling faintly of mildew)
    a thin steel key (smelling faintly of mildew)
    a brass nameplate (smelling faintly of mildew)
    an Allen key (smelling faintly of mildew)
    a metal flask (smelling faintly of mildew)
    an old newspaper (smelling faintly of mildew)
    a white key
    a round white wall clock (smelling faintly of mildew)
    an old paperback book (smelling faintly of mildew)
    a piece of chalk (smelling faintly of mildew)
  the second candle (smelling faintly of mildew)
  the first candle (smelling faintly of mildew)
  red-rimmed porcelain cups (smelling faintly of mildew)
  The Lives of the Roman Emperors (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a pewter box (smelling faintly of mildew) (open but empty)
  a dull machete (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a slip of paper (smelling faintly of mildew)
  some rotten flowers (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a copper urn (smelling faintly of mildew) (open but empty)
  a silver urn (smelling faintly of mildew) (open but empty)
  a bronze urn (smelling faintly of mildew) (open but empty)
  a key from an urn (smelling faintly of mildew)
  some mildewed leather gloves
  a gallon jug of white vinegar (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a pair of garden shears (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a bronze key green from age (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a rusty flathead screwdriver (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a pair of blue cloth slippers (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a trophy for a dog race (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a glass shard (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a black business card
  an aluminum key (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a clipboard (smelling faintly of mildew)
  some yellowed newspapers (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a shard of shattered carapace (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a book list (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a soggy tome (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a long hooked pole (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a grimy rock (smelling faintly of mildew)
  Peter's jacket (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a backpack features guide (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a trolley schedule (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a Jansport backpack (open)
    a hidden pocket (open but empty)
    a key pocket (open but empty)
    a book pocket (open but empty)
    a side pocket (open but empty)
    a trash pocket (closed)
  a pamphlet of home listings (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a moldy, waterlogged journal (smelling faintly of mildew)
  an antique locket (smelling faintly of mildew) (closed)
  a cast iron spire (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a wad of cash (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a repaired page (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a waterproof flashlight (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a tiny leather journal (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a large brass key (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a filthy rug (smelling faintly of mildew)
  Daniel Baker's note (smelling faintly of mildew)
  the diary of Phyllis Cragne (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a postcard of Big Ben (smelling faintly of mildew)
  The Modern Girl's Divination Handbook -- Volume Three (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a pull-string doll (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a label (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a giant milkweed leaf (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a glass jar containing an insect (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a half-full styrofoam coffee cup
  a plastic bubble (open but empty)
  a familiar gold wristwatch (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a brass winding key (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a small blue journal (which you know is a journal because it says "Mein Journal" on the front) (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a bottle of Pepto-Bismol (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a calfskin coat (being worn)
  a trolley pass (being worn)
  a gold jacket (being worn)
  Ed's coveralls (being worn)
  a pair of leather boots

> look in snowglobe
You find nothing of interest.

>enter it
That's not something you can enter.

>l
Study (Ian Holmes)
Barely a sunbeam reaches this study. Dust cakes the desk, drapes, and book-lined shelves like a bug mass grave. More insect bodies litter the carpet in earlier states of decay. The exit is east.

You definitely feel guilty. As if the headmaster is coming.

On the bookshelf is a small rusty iron key.

On the desk are a notepad and a photo.

>wait
Time passes.

>x carpet
Insect corpses are strewn around. Perhaps someone was recently here, spraying a can of insecticide around. Perhaps the insects just breed and die fast enough in here, and decay slow enough, for you to see the bodies before they decay into dust. Anyway, you can see a daddy long-legs or two.

You feel close to dying of boredom.

>x insects
Insect corpses are strewn around. Perhaps someone was recently here, spraying a can of insecticide around. Perhaps the insects just breed and die fast enough in here, and decay slow enough, for you to see the bodies before they decay into dust. Anyway, you can see a daddy long-legs or two.

>take them
Taken.

>i
You are carrying:
  a pair of stone earplugs (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a snowglobe
  a 'Pataphysical Approaches to Quantum Superfluids
  a black fountain pen
  a teapot (smelling faintly of mildew)
  the slithering vomit bladder of Katallakh (smelling faintly of mildew)
    a Carfax gig poster
    red-rimmed porcelain plates (smelling faintly of mildew)
    Hyper-Gastronomy, Exactness, and String Theory: a Theoretical Subdiscipline of Cooking and Baking by Chef Wheldrake (smelling faintly of mildew)
    A Culinary Overview of Superstitions in the Miskaton Valley Region by S. Jarret Zornwharf (smelling faintly of mildew)
    Mama Hydra's Deep Fried Ones (smelling faintly of mildew)
    a broken silver amulet
    a shard (smelling faintly of mildew)
    a note from a seesaw (smelling faintly of mildew)
    a newspaper clipping ("Rumors of Decapitations") (smelling faintly of mildew)
    a police report ("Francine Cragne") (smelling faintly of mildew)
    De Zeven Testamenten van de Krijsende Zeeworm (smelling faintly of mildew)
    a pinch of saffron (smelling faintly of mildew)
    a pinch of garlic
    a pinch of turmeric (smelling faintly of mildew)
    a pinch of cardamom (smelling faintly of mildew)
    a pinch of cinnamon (smelling faintly of mildew)
    a pinch of cardamom (smelling faintly of mildew)
    a total of two grains of salt (smelling faintly of mildew)
    a pinch of pepper (smelling faintly of mildew)
    a pinch of snail paste (smelling faintly of mildew)
    a pink-bound book
    a torn notebook (smelling faintly of mildew)
    a thin steel key (smelling faintly of mildew)
    a brass nameplate (smelling faintly of mildew)
    an Allen key (smelling faintly of mildew)
    a metal flask (smelling faintly of mildew)
    an old newspaper (smelling faintly of mildew)
    a white key
    a round white wall clock (smelling faintly of mildew)
    an old paperback book (smelling faintly of mildew)
    a piece of chalk (smelling faintly of mildew)
  the second candle (smelling faintly of mildew)
  the first candle (smelling faintly of mildew)
  red-rimmed porcelain cups (smelling faintly of mildew)
  The Lives of the Roman Emperors (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a pewter box (smelling faintly of mildew) (open but empty)
  a dull machete (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a slip of paper (smelling faintly of mildew)
  some rotten flowers (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a copper urn (smelling faintly of mildew) (open but empty)
  a silver urn (smelling faintly of mildew) (open but empty)
  a bronze urn (smelling faintly of mildew) (open but empty)
  a key from an urn (smelling faintly of mildew)
  some mildewed leather gloves
  a gallon jug of white vinegar (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a pair of garden shears (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a bronze key green from age (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a rusty flathead screwdriver (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a pair of blue cloth slippers (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a trophy for a dog race (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a glass shard (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a black business card
  an aluminum key (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a clipboard (smelling faintly of mildew)
  some yellowed newspapers (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a shard of shattered carapace (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a book list (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a soggy tome (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a long hooked pole (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a grimy rock (smelling faintly of mildew)
  Peter's jacket (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a backpack features guide (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a trolley schedule (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a Jansport backpack (open)
    a hidden pocket (open but empty)
    a key pocket (open but empty)
    a book pocket (open but empty)
    a side pocket (open but empty)
    a trash pocket (closed)
  a pamphlet of home listings (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a moldy, waterlogged journal (smelling faintly of mildew)
  an antique locket (smelling faintly of mildew) (closed)
  a cast iron spire (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a wad of cash (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a repaired page (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a waterproof flashlight (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a tiny leather journal (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a large brass key (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a filthy rug (smelling faintly of mildew)
  Daniel Baker's note (smelling faintly of mildew)
  the diary of Phyllis Cragne (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a postcard of Big Ben (smelling faintly of mildew)
  The Modern Girl's Divination Handbook -- Volume Three (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a pull-string doll (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a label (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a giant milkweed leaf (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a glass jar containing an insect (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a half-full styrofoam coffee cup
  a plastic bubble (open but empty)
  a familiar gold wristwatch (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a brass winding key (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a small blue journal (which you know is a journal because it says "Mein Journal" on the front) (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a bottle of Pepto-Bismol (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a calfskin coat (being worn)
  a trolley pass (being worn)
  a gold jacket (being worn)
  Ed's coveralls (being worn)
  a pair of leather boots

>drop insects
The dead insects is already here.

>take it
That's hardly portable.

>i
You are carrying:
  a pair of stone earplugs (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a snowglobe
  a 'Pataphysical Approaches to Quantum Superfluids
  a black fountain pen
  a teapot (smelling faintly of mildew)
  the slithering vomit bladder of Katallakh (smelling faintly of mildew)
    a Carfax gig poster
    red-rimmed porcelain plates (smelling faintly of mildew)
    Hyper-Gastronomy, Exactness, and String Theory: a Theoretical Subdiscipline of Cooking and Baking by Chef Wheldrake (smelling faintly of mildew)
    A Culinary Overview of Superstitions in the Miskaton Valley Region by S. Jarret Zornwharf (smelling faintly of mildew)
    Mama Hydra's Deep Fried Ones (smelling faintly of mildew)
    a broken silver amulet
    a shard (smelling faintly of mildew)
    a note from a seesaw (smelling faintly of mildew)
    a newspaper clipping ("Rumors of Decapitations") (smelling faintly of mildew)
    a police report ("Francine Cragne") (smelling faintly of mildew)
    De Zeven Testamenten van de Krijsende Zeeworm (smelling faintly of mildew)
    a pinch of saffron (smelling faintly of mildew)
    a pinch of garlic
    a pinch of turmeric (smelling faintly of mildew)
    a pinch of cardamom (smelling faintly of mildew)
    a pinch of cinnamon (smelling faintly of mildew)
    a pinch of cardamom (smelling faintly of mildew)
    a total of two grains of salt (smelling faintly of mildew)
    a pinch of pepper (smelling faintly of mildew)
    a pinch of snail paste (smelling faintly of mildew)
    a pink-bound book
    a torn notebook (smelling faintly of mildew)
    a thin steel key (smelling faintly of mildew)
    a brass nameplate (smelling faintly of mildew)
    an Allen key (smelling faintly of mildew)
    a metal flask (smelling faintly of mildew)
    an old newspaper (smelling faintly of mildew)
    a white key
    a round white wall clock (smelling faintly of mildew)
    an old paperback book (smelling faintly of mildew)
    a piece of chalk (smelling faintly of mildew)
  the second candle (smelling faintly of mildew)
  the first candle (smelling faintly of mildew)
  red-rimmed porcelain cups (smelling faintly of mildew)
  The Lives of the Roman Emperors (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a pewter box (smelling faintly of mildew) (open but empty)
  a dull machete (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a slip of paper (smelling faintly of mildew)
  some rotten flowers (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a copper urn (smelling faintly of mildew) (open but empty)
  a silver urn (smelling faintly of mildew) (open but empty)
  a bronze urn (smelling faintly of mildew) (open but empty)
  a key from an urn (smelling faintly of mildew)
  some mildewed leather gloves
  a gallon jug of white vinegar (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a pair of garden shears (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a bronze key green from age (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a rusty flathead screwdriver (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a pair of blue cloth slippers (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a trophy for a dog race (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a glass shard (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a black business card
  an aluminum key (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a clipboard (smelling faintly of mildew)
  some yellowed newspapers (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a shard of shattered carapace (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a book list (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a soggy tome (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a long hooked pole (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a grimy rock (smelling faintly of mildew)
  Peter's jacket (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a backpack features guide (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a trolley schedule (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a Jansport backpack (open)
    a hidden pocket (open but empty)
    a key pocket (open but empty)
    a book pocket (open but empty)
    a side pocket (open but empty)
    a trash pocket (closed)
  a pamphlet of home listings (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a moldy, waterlogged journal (smelling faintly of mildew)
  an antique locket (smelling faintly of mildew) (closed)
  a cast iron spire (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a wad of cash (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a repaired page (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a waterproof flashlight (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a tiny leather journal (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a large brass key (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a filthy rug (smelling faintly of mildew)
  Daniel Baker's note (smelling faintly of mildew)
  the diary of Phyllis Cragne (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a postcard of Big Ben (smelling faintly of mildew)
  The Modern Girl's Divination Handbook -- Volume Three (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a pull-string doll (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a label (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a giant milkweed leaf (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a glass jar containing an insect (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a half-full styrofoam coffee cup
  a plastic bubble (open but empty)
  a familiar gold wristwatch (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a brass winding key (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a small blue journal (which you know is a journal because it says "Mein Journal" on the front) (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a bottle of Pepto-Bismol (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a calfskin coat (being worn)
  a trolley pass (being worn)
  a gold jacket (being worn)
  Ed's coveralls (being worn)
  a pair of leather boots

>take them
You already have those.

>x them
The earplugs appear to be made out of jade or some other ornate green mineral, but to the touch they don't have the coldness of stone you'd expect. One earplug is specifically shaped to fit in the left ear canal, the other the right.

Looking at things in this room is becoming so excruciatingly boring that almost any death would be a sweet despair from the tedium of the experience you, the player, are putting the player character through.

>* oh, weird
You seem to want to talk to someone, but I can't see whom.

>* the meta touch here has nothing on what we just came through
That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later.

>x key
Which do you mean, the small rusty iron key, the thin steel key (smelling faintly of mildew), the Allen key (smelling faintly of mildew), the white key, the key from an urn (smelling faintly of mildew), the bronze key green from age (smelling faintly of mildew), the aluminum key (smelling faintly of mildew), the large brass key (smelling faintly of mildew) or the brass winding key (smelling faintly of mildew)?

>rusty
A small, rusty iron key.

You. Feel. Close. To. Dying. Of. BOREDOM.

>take it
Taken. Now get out of here!

>x coffee
The swirls in your cup form -- weird, they've entirely dissipated. Lack of a symbolic image means that you have accomplished everything you must in your current environment and should move on to find new challenges in order to grow as a person.

I can't say this any more clearly. If you keep standing in this room examining things, you will get bored and die of, OK not boredom but despair or something.

A ghastly spectral cuckoo flies out of the round white wall clock (smelling faintly of mildew) and announces, "The time is now five o'clock!" before vanishing into thin air.

>* let's check
That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later.

>z
Time passes.

>z
Time passes.

>z
Time passes.

>z
Time passes.

>l
Study (Ian Holmes)
Barely a sunbeam reaches this study. Dust cakes the desk, drapes, and book-lined shelves like a bug mass grave. More insect bodies litter the carpet in earlier states of decay. The exit is east.

You definitely feel guilty.

On the desk are a notepad and a photo.

>x desk
On the desk are a notepad and a photo.

The sense of intense despair and ennui overwhelms you. Time slows, and your heart stops beating.

Some while later, there are new bones on the floor.



    *** You die of despair. ***



Would you like to RESTART, RESTORE a saved game, QUIT, UNDO the last command or TAKE BACK the action that sealed your fate (for when UNDO is not enough)?
> undo
Study (Ian Holmes)
[Previous turn undone.]

>e

Hallway South (Matt Schneider)
The threadbare carpet holds only the vaguest hints of its original hue, and the yellowing wallpaper is crisscrossed with a web of cracks. The hole that you tore through the wallpaper emits a gentle light. The hallway continues to the north, and there are doors leading to the west, south, and east.

>save
Ok.

>i
You are carrying:
  a small rusty iron key
  a pair of stone earplugs (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a snowglobe
  a 'Pataphysical Approaches to Quantum Superfluids
  a black fountain pen
  a teapot (smelling faintly of mildew)
  the slithering vomit bladder of Katallakh (smelling faintly of mildew)
    a Carfax gig poster
    red-rimmed porcelain plates (smelling faintly of mildew)
    Hyper-Gastronomy, Exactness, and String Theory: a Theoretical Subdiscipline of Cooking and Baking by Chef Wheldrake (smelling faintly of mildew)
    A Culinary Overview of Superstitions in the Miskaton Valley Region by S. Jarret Zornwharf (smelling faintly of mildew)
    Mama Hydra's Deep Fried Ones (smelling faintly of mildew)
    a broken silver amulet
    a shard (smelling faintly of mildew)
    a note from a seesaw (smelling faintly of mildew)
    a newspaper clipping ("Rumors of Decapitations") (smelling faintly of mildew)
    a police report ("Francine Cragne") (smelling faintly of mildew)
    De Zeven Testamenten van de Krijsende Zeeworm (smelling faintly of mildew)
    a pinch of saffron (smelling faintly of mildew)
    a pinch of garlic
    a pinch of turmeric (smelling faintly of mildew)
    a pinch of cardamom (smelling faintly of mildew)
    a pinch of cinnamon (smelling faintly of mildew)
    a pinch of cardamom (smelling faintly of mildew)
    a total of two grains of salt (smelling faintly of mildew)
    a pinch of pepper (smelling faintly of mildew)
    a pinch of snail paste (smelling faintly of mildew)
    a pink-bound book
    a torn notebook (smelling faintly of mildew)
    a thin steel key (smelling faintly of mildew)
    a brass nameplate (smelling faintly of mildew)
    an Allen key (smelling faintly of mildew)
    a metal flask (smelling faintly of mildew)
    an old newspaper (smelling faintly of mildew)
    a white key
    a round white wall clock (smelling faintly of mildew)
    an old paperback book (smelling faintly of mildew)
    a piece of chalk (smelling faintly of mildew)
  the second candle (smelling faintly of mildew)
  the first candle (smelling faintly of mildew)
  red-rimmed porcelain cups (smelling faintly of mildew)
  The Lives of the Roman Emperors (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a pewter box (smelling faintly of mildew) (open but empty)
  a dull machete (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a slip of paper (smelling faintly of mildew)
  some rotten flowers (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a copper urn (smelling faintly of mildew) (open but empty)
  a silver urn (smelling faintly of mildew) (open but empty)
  a bronze urn (smelling faintly of mildew) (open but empty)
  a key from an urn (smelling faintly of mildew)
  some mildewed leather gloves
  a gallon jug of white vinegar (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a pair of garden shears (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a bronze key green from age (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a rusty flathead screwdriver (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a pair of blue cloth slippers (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a trophy for a dog race (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a glass shard (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a black business card
  an aluminum key (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a clipboard (smelling faintly of mildew)
  some yellowed newspapers (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a shard of shattered carapace (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a book list (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a soggy tome (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a long hooked pole (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a grimy rock (smelling faintly of mildew)
  Peter's jacket (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a backpack features guide (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a trolley schedule (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a Jansport backpack (open)
    a hidden pocket (open but empty)
    a key pocket (open but empty)
    a book pocket (open but empty)
    a side pocket (open but empty)
    a trash pocket (closed)
  a pamphlet of home listings (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a moldy, waterlogged journal (smelling faintly of mildew)
  an antique locket (smelling faintly of mildew) (closed)
  a cast iron spire (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a wad of cash (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a repaired page (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a waterproof flashlight (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a tiny leather journal (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a large brass key (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a filthy rug (smelling faintly of mildew)
  Daniel Baker's note (smelling faintly of mildew)
  the diary of Phyllis Cragne (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a postcard of Big Ben (smelling faintly of mildew)
  The Modern Girl's Divination Handbook -- Volume Three (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a pull-string doll (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a label (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a giant milkweed leaf (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a glass jar containing an insect (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a half-full styrofoam coffee cup
  a plastic bubble (open but empty)
  a familiar gold wristwatch (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a brass winding key (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a small blue journal (which you know is a journal because it says "Mein Journal" on the front) (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a bottle of Pepto-Bismol (smelling faintly of mildew)
  a calfskin coat (being worn)
  a trolley pass (being worn)
  a gold jacket (being worn)
  Ed's coveralls (being worn)
  a pair of leather boots

>quite
That verb doesn't work here, or, at least, not right now, but it might work somewhere later.

>quit
Are you sure you want to quit? yes