  
ClubFloyd Transcript:
The idea behind ClubFloyd is that each
week at a pre-arranged time, a group of
people meet online to cooperatively play
a game of interactive fiction.
ANOTHER WARNING! A lot (most!) of the transcripts contained on this site are, shall we say, family-friendly. This is not one of those family-friendly transcripts. Just so we're clear. |
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ToyShop & Floyditorium
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#ClubFloyd Discussion
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| DavidW says, "I assume we're playing another game from Ectocomp 2024 today. I've played Last-Minute Magic, Dark and Deep, and Museum of Paranormal [something] already." | ||
| Jacqueline asks, "Ah. What's left?" | ||
| DavidW says, "So I'll suggest we play one of No More, Your Little Haunting, or Fireboat." | ||
| Jacqueline asks, "That's Floydable?" | ||
| Jacqueline says, "Ah, okay. Hm. I'm actually fine with a roll of the dice." | ||
| DavidW says, "oh, there's also An Admirer." | ||
| Jacqueline says, "That sounds..." | ||
| DavidW says, "It's possible you might prefer we play Dark and Deep instead. It's by Amanda Walker and based on Robert Frost's poetry." | ||
| Jacqueline says, "Oh, that does sound nice." | ||
| DavidW says, "It's also fairly linear, not very puzzly." | ||
| DavidW says (to ClubFloyd), "load sleepmask darkanddeep" | ||
| CF ] | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | This game is largely conversation-based. There is only one other | ||
| CF | character in the game. To talk to her, you can type any of the | ||
| CF | following: | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | ASK/TELL WOMAN ABOUT TOPIC | ||
| CF | TALK ABOUT TOPIC | ||
| CF | TALK TOPIC | ||
| CF | TALK/TELL/T TOPIC | ||
| CF | TALK/TELL/T ABOUT TOPIC | ||
| CF | ASK/A TOPIC | ||
| CF | ASK/A ABOUT TOPIC | ||
| CF | WOMAN, TOPIC | ||
| CF | and other variations. You can ask about any topic in any way you like, | ||
| CF | but to save typing, just A TOPIC or T TOPIC will work. Keep the topics | ||
| CF | you ask about to one word. For instance, instead of ASK ABOUT WOMAN'S | ||
| CF | HAT, you should ASK ABOUT WOMAN or ASK ABOUT HAT. | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | ABOUT will give you information about this game and its inspirations. | ||
| CF | There is a HINT command, and HELP will bring you back to this | ||
| CF | information. | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | If you're new to parser-based interactive fiction, type PLAY for | ||
| CF | general information on playing parser games. | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | PRESS ANY KEY TO CONTINUE | ||
| DavidW pushes the green 'space' button. | ||
| CF ] | ||
| CF | January 1922 | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | Coös, New Hampshire | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | The road diverges here. The main road runs between villages, and a | ||
| CF | smaller track, wanting wear, splits from it and winds into the woods. | ||
| CF | It is marked by a mailbox labeled "Lajway." You're nearly there. Long | ||
| CF | you stand looking down this road as far as you can to where it bends | ||
| CF | into the undergrowth. You sigh-- what can you find at the end of it | ||
| CF | but your own doubt, the cavernous hole where God once lived in you? | ||
| CF | You find that hole at the end of every road now, and it's deeper every | ||
| CF | time. A premonition of dread flickers through you, a vision of | ||
| CF | yourself ages and ages hence, looking back on this night, on this | ||
| CF | diverging road and how it made such a terrible difference. Knowing how | ||
| CF | way leads on to way, doubt to doubt, can you ever come back to who you | ||
| CF | once were? | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | PRESS ANY KEY TO CONTINUE | DavidW says, "Co[o umlaut]s" | |
| DavidW pushes the green 'space' button. | ||
| CF ] | ||
| CF | Snow falls in downy flakes from the darkening sky, frosting the frozen | ||
| CF | ground, landing on leaves no step has trodden black. The old woman's | ||
| CF | house is isolated, far from the comforts of your neat white church and | ||
| CF | manse, those props and stages that allow you to pretend you are still | ||
| CF | functioning. But the woman is dying and the doctor can't come tonight. | ||
| CF | You are sent because you are a Reverend; it's your job to comfort her | ||
| CF | at her end no matter how dented is your faith in yourself, in your | ||
| CF | God. No matter her reputation. You turn down the dimly lit path, snow | ||
| CF | brushing your cheeks, your little horse's bells jingling as you make | ||
| CF | your way to the Lajway farm. | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | At the homestead you stable your horse in the dry barn and come out | ||
| CF | into the twilit yard, steadying yourself to do your job, steeling | ||
| CF | yourself against the black hole inside you that whispers, | ||
| CF | run. | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | PRESS ANY KEY TO CONTINUE | DavidW asks, "ready?" | |
| Roger says, "surely" | ||
| Jacqueline exclaims, "Still reading!" | ||
| Jacqueline exclaims, "Sorry!" | ||
| Roger says, "chew slowly, even when it's scenery" | ||
| Jacqueline says, "There's nice writing here. I'm appreciating it. Sheesh." | ||
| Jacqueline says, "Okay." | ||
| Jacqueline exclaims, "Proceed!" | ||
| DavidW says, "yeah, I thought you'd like this." | ||
| DavidW pushes the green 'space' button. | ||
| CF ] Yard | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | Dark and Deep | ||
| CF | An Interactive Fiction by Amanda Walker | ||
| CF | Release 1 / Serial number 241030 / Inform 7 build 6M62 (I6/v6.34 lib | ||
| CF | 6/12N) | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | Yard | ||
| CF | White capped mountain ranges surround these woods on all sides. Tall | ||
| CF | pines tower over this clearing in the woods, laced with snow. The bare | ||
| CF | dirt here is scraggled with dead weeds and frozen puddles. Fat, lazy | ||
| CF | snowflakes drift from the darkening sky as twilight deepens. | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | The old woman's little house is to the west, the thatched barn is to | ||
| CF | the east, the path back to the road is south, and the path narrows as | ||
| CF | it disappears into the snowy woods to the north. | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | > | ||
| DavidW says (to ClubFloyd), "about" | ||
| CF ] Yard | ||
| CF | > | ||
| CF | > ABOUT | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | This game was written in Inform 7 for the 2024 Ectocomp, and is based | ||
| CF | on multiple poems by a famous poet. If you want that information at | ||
| CF | any time, type POET, or you can wait for the endnotes. | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | Thanks to my testers: AM Ruf, Drew Cook, Zed Lopez, Manonamora, and | ||
| CF | Tabitha. All the thanks to my sweetheart Tom, who is the best person I | ||
| CF | know. | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | > | ||
| DavidW says (to ClubFloyd), "poet" | ||
| CF ] Yard | ||
| CF | > | ||
| CF | > POET | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | This game is based on the poems of Robert Frost (American, 1874-1963). | ||
| CF | The main story comes from The Witch of Coös, although I have | ||
| CF | altered the scenario significantly. | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | I've also drawn a great deal from the very depressing poems Out, | ||
| CF | Out and Home Burial. | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | The game begins with snippets of The Road Not Taken and ends | ||
| CF | with snippets from Stopping by Woods On Snowy Evening. I also | ||
| CF | stole lines and images from Ghost House, Love and a Question, | ||
| CF | Revelation, Mending Wall, Design, Putting In the Seed, The Hill Wife, | ||
| CF | Bereft, The Thatch. And there's a general theft of themes and | ||
| CF | vibes from many other Frost poems. | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | > | Jacqueline says, "Aw. Sweetheart." | |
| Jacqueline says, "Lovely idea for a game." | ||
| DavidW says (to ClubFloyd), "x me" | ||
| CF ] Yard | ||
| CF | > | ||
| CF | > X ME | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | You miss your formal reverend's clothing, but it's too cold for it and | ||
| CF | you're dressed warmly in woolens against the cold. The doctor sent you | ||
| CF | to sit with the dying woman-- Mrs. Lajway-- who lives here. She's | ||
| CF | hours or days from her end, and he has a birth to attend tonight and | ||
| CF | doesn't want her to be alone. So despite the fact that she reportedly | ||
| CF | hasn't set foot in a church in decades, and despite her unsavory | ||
| CF | reputation, you will do your duty and guide her, help her find God and | ||
| CF | peace before her death, free her of sin. | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | But hidden under your clothes, under your skin, beating a slow rhythm | ||
| CF | out of tune with your heart, is a flower of doubt. | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | > | Jacqueline says, "Yeah, I too have doubts." | |
| DavidW says (to ClubFloyd), "x doubt" | ||
| CF ] Yard | ||
| CF | > | ||
| CF | > X DOUBT | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | Like a tumor or a terrible pregnancy, unseen by anyone else, it gnaws | ||
| CF | at your insides. You struggle to expunge it, but it only grows, its | ||
| CF | teeth getting sharper every day. It whispers and hisses, "Fraud" so | ||
| CF | loudly that you think someone else will hear. You almost wish someone | ||
| CF | would hear, so you could break down and beg for help. But you're the | ||
| CF | one who helps others with their faith. | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | > | Roger says, "oh yeah, I remember this poem now" | |
| Jacqueline says, "oh cool" | ||
| Jacqueline says, "But also: not cool." | ||
| Jacqueline says (to ClubFloyd), "x help" | ||
| CF ] Yard | ||
| CF | > | ||
| CF | > X HELP | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | You can't see any such thing. | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | > | DavidW says, "I don't know the poetry at all, unfortunately." | |
| DavidW says (to ClubFloyd), "drop doubt" | ||
| CF ] Yard | ||
| CF | > | ||
| CF | > DROP DOUBT | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | You have tried so hard. But it only swells inside you, a wretched game | ||
| CF | of hide-and-seek with God afar, so far away as to be nonexistant. You | ||
| CF | cringe at expressing your doubt so much, even in your secret thoughts. | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | > | Roger says, "It's good, not too long, properly spooky" | |
| DavidW says (to ClubFloyd), "i" | ||
| CF ] Yard | ||
| CF | > | ||
| CF | > I | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | You are carrying: | ||
| CF | woolen clothes (being worn) | ||
| CF | a cross (being worn) | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | > | ||
| DavidW says (to ClubFloyd), "x clothes" | ||
| CF ] Yard | ||
| CF | > | ||
| CF | > X CLOTHES | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | Warm winter woolens instead of traditional formal reverend's clothing. | ||
| CF | They make you feel like just a man. But if you're honest with | ||
| CF | yourself, the reverend's vestments make you feel like a sham most of | ||
| CF | the time. At least these clothes are warm. | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | > | ||
| DavidW says (to ClubFloyd), "x cross" | ||
| CF ] Yard | ||
| CF | > | ||
| CF | > X CROSS | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | A small, plain carved wooden cross, polished and smooth as glass. | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | > | ||
| Jacqueline says (to ClubFloyd), "touch cross" | ||
| CF ] Yard | ||
| CF | > | ||
| CF | > TOUCH CROSS | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | You have been raised and trained to keep your hands to yourself. A | ||
| CF | lifetime of hands folded behind your back. | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | > | Jacqueline says, "aw" | |
| DavidW says (to ClubFloyd), "x barn" | ||
| CF ] Yard | ||
| CF | > | ||
| CF | > X BARN | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | A old wooden barn with a thick thatched roof, pitched steeply so that | ||
| CF | the eaves are at eye level. A rustling noise comes from the eaves. | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | > | ||
| Jacqueline says (to ClubFloyd), "listen" | ||
| CF ] Yard | ||
| CF | > | ||
| CF | > LISTEN | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | The hush of falling snow. An unseen woodpecker clatters, then falls | ||
| CF | silent. | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | > | ||
| Jacqueline says (to ClubFloyd), "listen" | ||
| CF ] Yard | ||
| CF | > | ||
| CF | > LISTEN | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | The hush of falling snow. An unseen woodpecker clatters, then falls | ||
| CF | silent. | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | > | ||
| DavidW says (to ClubFloyd), "x eaves" | ||
| CF ] Yard | ||
| CF | > | ||
| CF | > X EAVES | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | As you bend to inspect the eaves closer, a bird explodes from its | ||
| CF | place in the thatch, feathers brushing your cheeks as the bird whirls | ||
| CF | in confusion before shooting into the trees. Your heart beating fast, | ||
| CF | you feel sorrow for the displaced bird, who now shivers unseen on a | ||
| CF | branch in the darkening woods. It seems that you are always displacing | ||
| CF | small warm things, sending them into the cold: your family, your | ||
| CF | desires, and perhaps now the only thing you had to replace them, your | ||
| CF | faith. | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | > | Roger says, "we should probably have the book if we're on a working visit" | |
| Jacqueline says, "Fair." | ||
| Jacqueline says, "Don't think we brought it." | ||
| DavidW says, "apparently not" | ||
| Jacqueline says, "If we think she's gonna have one, I think we're likely wrong." | ||
| DavidW says (to ClubFloyd), "x house" | ||
| CF ] Yard | ||
| CF | > | ||
| CF | > X HOUSE | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | Mrs. Lajway's house is a sturdy little stone cottage with a steep roof | ||
| CF | shingled in slate. Firelight flickers in the downstairs windows | ||
| CF | invitingly. Just the sight of it seems to cause the icy air to bite | ||
| CF | harder. | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | > | Jacqueline says, "Looks warm. Let's go." | |
| DavidW says, "When talking to Mrs Lajway, topics are one word only, and the A TOPIC syntax is sufficient." | ||
| DavidW says (to ClubFloyd), "w" | ||
| CF ] Cottage | ||
| CF | > | ||
| CF | > W | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | You knock on the front door of the cottage, calling out, "Mrs. Lajway? | ||
| CF | It's Reverend Odlin. The doctor asked me to come see you." | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | After a long pause, you shivering on the doorstep, you hear a woman | ||
| CF | say, "Come in, Reverend." | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | Cottage | ||
| CF | A cozy room with a fire snapping in a stone fireplace. Kitchen | ||
| CF | counters and cabinets line one wall, and a rough wooden table | ||
| CF | separates the kitchen area from the living area. Two soft chairs are | ||
| CF | placed near the fire. | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | An old woman sits nodding in one of the chairs, peering at you from a | ||
| CF | wrinkled face. | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | Stairs lead up, there is a closed door to the west, and the yard is | ||
| CF | back east. The old woman strains to see you and says, "It's Reverend | ||
| CF | Odlin, is it? I've heard of you. They told you I was dying, yes? That | ||
| CF | my soul needs saving. Perhaps it does, and perhaps it can't be, or | ||
| CF | perhaps I have no soul, Father." | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | > | ||
| DavidW says (to ClubFloyd), "x mrs" | ||
| CF ] Cottage | ||
| CF | > | ||
| CF | > X MRS | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | About eighty years old, her pink scalp showing through her sparse | ||
| CF | white hair, liver-spotted hands plucking at the crocheted afghan on | ||
| CF | her lap, the deep lines of her face shadowing in the flickering | ||
| CF | firelight. Yet you can see that she was once a beauty, her fine bones | ||
| CF | still there under the sagging skin and milky eyes. The doctor told you | ||
| CF | that she's lived alone here forever. Her husband died twenty years ago | ||
| CF | and she has been tough enough to make it in this isolated house until | ||
| CF | now. "She's dying," said the doctor. "Everyone thinks she's a witch, | ||
| CF | but I think she's just a lonely old woman who needs comfort at the | ||
| CF | end. Go sit with her, Father." | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | > | ||
| DavidW says (to ClubFloyd), "sit" | ||
| CF ] Cottage | ||
| CF | > | ||
| CF | > SIT | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | You get onto the armchair. | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | > | Jacqueline says, "She's probably a witch." | |
| DavidW says (to ClubFloyd), "a herself" | ||
| CF ] Cottage | ||
| CF | > | ||
| CF | > A HERSELF | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | "Everyone calls me a witch." | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | > | Roger says, "she probably has a dozen cats" | |
| DavidW says (to ClubFloyd), "a cats" | ||
| CF ] Cottage | ||
| CF | > | ||
| CF | > A CATS | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | "Talk to me about something else," the old woman says. | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | > | Jacqueline says, "She's probably childless." | |
| DavidW says (to ClubFloyd), "a soul" | ||
| CF ] Cottage | ||
| CF | > | ||
| CF | > A SOUL | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | "Some say the dead have souls, but I say how can that be? I thought | ||
| CF | the dead were souls. Don't that make you suspicious that there's | ||
| CF | something the dead are keeping back? Yes, there's something the dead | ||
| CF | are keeping back. Someone's secrets." | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | > | ||
| DavidW says (to ClubFloyd), "a witch" | ||
| CF ] Cottage | ||
| CF | > | ||
| CF | > A WITCH | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | "Folks think a witch has familiar spirits she could call up to pass a | ||
| CF | winter evening. If she won't do it on command, they think she should | ||
| CF | be burned at the stake or something. But it's the secret sins that | ||
| CF | witch a heart, Father. Mayhap I'll show you some magic before I die." | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | > | Jacqueline says, "oh" | |
| Jacqueline says, "magic" | ||
| DavidW says (to ClubFloyd), "a magic" | ||
| CF ] Cottage | ||
| CF | > | ||
| CF | > A MAGIC | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | "I can let you see how things happened. Objects carry ghosts, | ||
| CF | Reverend. When things die, people or love or hope or hearts, they | ||
| CF | leave their broken bones in the objects around them. So many ghosts | ||
| CF | are here, their bones rattling." | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | > | Roger says, "behold! I have your nose, father" | |
| Jacqueline says, "hahaha" | ||
| Jacqueline says, "yay" | ||
| DavidW says (to ClubFloyd), "a doctor" | ||
| CF ] Cottage | ||
| CF | > | ||
| CF | > A DOCTOR | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | "Almost out of time, the doctor says. Normally I'd ignore him, the | ||
| CF | pipsqueak. But I know he's right. I can feel it, have felt it slowing | ||
| CF | and slowing, the weight of secrets pulling it to a stop. You're the | ||
| CF | last man I'll ever share an evening with, and I've shared evenings-- | ||
| CF | and nights!-- with many. Oh, don't look so shocked. Those sins are | ||
| CF | old, if they're sins at all. I've committed much greater ones." | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | > | ||
| DavidW says (to ClubFloyd), "a sins" | ||
| CF ] Cottage | ||
| CF | > | ||
| CF | > A SINS | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | "Bones. So many of them, where they should be, where they were, where | ||
| CF | they are not. A life made of bones rattling and seeking, their fingers | ||
| CF | still clutching at me." | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | > | ||
| DavidW says (to ClubFloyd), "a bones" | ||
| CF ] Cottage | ||
| CF | > | ||
| CF | > A BONES | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | "Have you seen the graves? They're not far. Such bones lie there as to | ||
| CF | squeeze my heart to death. I've been dying since the first was dug. My | ||
| CF | husband started dying then, too. That's when the witch grew in me, | ||
| CF | started wearing my skin." | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | > | Jacqueline says, "That is novel." | |
| DavidW says (to ClubFloyd), "a husband" | ||
| CF ] Cottage | ||
| CF | > | ||
| CF | > A HUSBAND | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | "Toffile. I married him when I was seventeen, my first baby less than | ||
| CF | a year later. The grief he brought me until he died twenty years ago." | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | > | ||
| DavidW says (to ClubFloyd), "a baby" | ||
| CF ] Cottage | ||
| CF | > | ||
| CF | > A BABY | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | "I had two, long ago. You'll find them under the big tree in the | ||
| CF | graveyard if you care to look around outside." | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | > | Jacqueline says, "Oh. Not childless." | |
| Jacqueline says, "No cats, either." | ||
| DavidW says (to ClubFloyd), "a graveyard" | ||
| CF ] Cottage | ||
| CF | > | ||
| CF | > A GRAVEYARD | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | "It's just up the path outside. I don't go there anymore, even for my | ||
| CF | children." | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | > | Roger says, "just a big bowl of hard candy all stuck together" | |
| Jacqueline says, "yuck" | ||
| Jacqueline says (to ClubFloyd), "a deaths" | ||
| CF ] Cottage | ||
| CF | > | ||
| CF | > A DEATHS | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | "Talk to me about something else," the old woman says. | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | > | ||
| Jacqueline says (to ClubFloyd), "a death" | ||
| CF ] Cottage | ||
| CF | > | ||
| CF | > A DEATH | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | "Not long now. I'm glad it's you here with me, though I've no use for | ||
| CF | church. But there's something in your face that tells me you know | ||
| CF | about pain." | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | > | ||
| DavidW says (to ClubFloyd), "a pain" | ||
| CF ] Cottage | ||
| CF | > | ||
| CF | > A PAIN | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | "Which kind of pain? My old body hurts something awful. But it's not | ||
| CF | as bad as the torment of my secrets, my sins. Nothing compared to how | ||
| CF | the bones torment me." | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | > | ||
| DavidW says (to ClubFloyd), "a secrets" | ||
| CF ] Cottage | ||
| CF | > | ||
| CF | > A SECRETS | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | "Bones. So many of them, where they should be, where they were, where | ||
| CF | they are not. A life made of bones rattling and seeking, their fingers | ||
| CF | still clutching at me." | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | > | Jacqueline says, "She's very dramatic." | |
| Roger says, "I've been celebate for 50 years so don't you lecture me about pain" | ||
| Jacqueline looks at Roger. | ||
| Roger says, "It's a dramatic work" | ||
| Roger says, "well not me me" | ||
| DavidW asks, "Shall we check out the graveyard?" | ||
| Roger says, "the rev there" | ||
| Roger says, "yeah, reckon we should" | ||
| Jacqueline says, "Yeah, I'm good with visiting it." | ||
| DavidW says (to ClubFloyd), "e" | ||
| CF ] Yard | ||
| CF | > | ||
| CF | > E | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | You say, "Will you excuse me for a moment, ma'am?" and Mrs. Lajway | ||
| CF | replies, " Do what you need to do, Reverend. I'll be here." | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | (first getting off the armchair) | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | Yard | ||
| CF | White capped mountain ranges surround these woods on all sides. Tall | ||
| CF | pines tower over this clearing in the woods, laced with snow. The bare | ||
| CF | dirt here is scraggled with dead weeds and frozen puddles. Fat, lazy | ||
| CF | snowflakes drift from the darkening sky as twilight deepens. | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | The old woman's little house is to the west, the thatched barn is to | ||
| CF | the east, the path back to the road is south, and the path narrows as | ||
| CF | it disappears into the snowy woods to the north. | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | > | Roger says, "probably not even on hallowed ground or whatnot" | |
| DavidW says (to ClubFloyd), "n" | ||
| CF ] Graveyard | ||
| CF | > | ||
| CF | > N | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | Graveyard | ||
| CF | At the end of a path through the trees, a ruined stone fence tangled | ||
| CF | with dead vines surrounds a semi-cleared area in the trees. A huge low | ||
| CF | limbed sycamore tree spreads its bare branches over two moss covered | ||
| CF | stones. An unseen woodpecker clatters in the trees, the sharp sound | ||
| CF | intruding on the quiet of this space. | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | You can go back south to the yard. The forest grows thick and dark in | ||
| CF | every other direction. | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | > | ||
| DavidW says (to ClubFloyd), "x fence" | ||
| CF ] Graveyard | ||
| CF | > | ||
| CF | > X FENCE | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | The ruin of a stacked-stone wall, waist height, surrounding the giant | ||
| CF | tree. The forest crowds in close on the other side, the stones | ||
| CF | tumbling to the ground in places. Something there is that doesn't love | ||
| CF | a wall and brings it down each year. From experience you know that a | ||
| CF | wall like this requires repair every year, neighbors on either side to | ||
| CF | walk the line and set the wall between them once again, to each the | ||
| CF | boulders that have fallen to each. But this one has not been repaired | ||
| CF | in many years. | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | > | ||
| DavidW says (to ClubFloyd), "x tree" | ||
| CF ] Graveyard | ||
| CF | > | ||
| CF | > X TREE | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | It's perhaps the biggest tree you've ever seen, massive in girth, its | ||
| CF | branches so low that some of them brush the ground, the fat falling | ||
| CF | flakes of snow building on its huge, barren limbs. | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | > | ||
| DavidW says (to ClubFloyd), "x stones" | ||
| CF ] Graveyard | ||
| CF | > | ||
| CF | > X STONES | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | Two graves with old headstones, one small and one large. | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | > | ||
| DavidW says (to ClubFloyd), "x small stone" | ||
| CF ] Graveyard | ||
| CF | > | ||
| CF | > X SMALL STONE | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | A small headstone, overgrown with lichen turning brittle in the cold. | ||
| CF | The lichen obscures the writing on the stone. | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | > | ||
| DavidW says (to ClubFloyd), "clean it" | ||
| CF ] Graveyard | ||
| CF | > | ||
| CF | > CLEAN IT | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | You scrape the lichen away from the stone and it crumbles tonothing. | ||
| CF | Now you can read the stone: | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | June Lajway | ||
| CF | 1862 | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | She died sixty years ago. The single year on the stone tells you that | ||
| CF | little June didn't live even a year. | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | > | ||
| DavidW says (to ClubFloyd), "x large stone" | ||
| CF ] Graveyard | ||
| CF | > | ||
| CF | > X LARGE STONE | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | A large headstone, overgrown with moss turning brown in the cold. The | ||
| CF | moss obscures the writing on the stone. | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | > | Roger says, "lived long enough to get a name though. Unless she was born and died in June too" | |
| DavidW says (to ClubFloyd), "clean it" | ||
| CF ] Graveyard | ||
| CF | > | ||
| CF | > CLEAN IT | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | You scrape the moss away from the stone and it crumbles to nothing. | ||
| CF | Now you can read the stone: | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | William Lajway | ||
| CF | 1863-1875 | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | He died nearly fifty years ago, only 12 years old. | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | > | Jacqueline says, "MURDERED" | |
| Jacqueline says, "Just kidding." | ||
| Jacqueline says, "Probably." | ||
| Jacqueline says, "Probably kidding." | ||
| Roger says, "death by being turned into a newt" | ||
| DavidW says (to ClubFloyd), "x woodpecker" | ||
| CF ] Graveyard | ||
| CF | > | ||
| CF | > X WOODPECKER | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | You can't see any such thing. | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | > | ||
| DavidW says (to ClubFloyd), "x snow" | ||
| CF ] Graveyard | ||
| CF | > | ||
| CF | > X SNOW | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | The darkening winter sky, the sun nearly gone. Fat, lazy flakes of | ||
| CF | snow drift steadily down from it, gathering in soft masses. | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | > | ||
| DavidW says (to ClubFloyd), "x forest" | ||
| CF ] Graveyard | ||
| CF | > | ||
| CF | > X FOREST | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | The dark winter forest, crowding the stone fence. | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | > | Jacqueline says (to Roger), "If so, he did not get better." | |
| DavidW asks, "Shall we go back inside?" | ||
| Roger says, "Toffie isn't buried back here? That's what we call foreshadowing" | ||
| Jacqueline says (to DW), "Yeah, I think we're good. Unless we want to be silly and climb the tree or something." | ||
| DavidW says, "ToffLe" | ||
| Roger says, "I know what I said" | ||
| DavidW says (to ClubFloyd), "climb tree" | ||
| CF ] Graveyard | ||
| CF | > | ||
| CF | > CLIMB TREE | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | If you were a bit younger, and if the weather was a little warmer, you | ||
| CF | would. But you're here to minister to a dying woman, not act like a | ||
| CF | child. | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | > | Jacqueline says, "Toffile." | |
| DavidW says, "oops yes Toffile" | ||
| DavidW says (to ClubFloyd), "s" | ||
| CF ] Yard | ||
| CF | > | ||
| CF | > S | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | Yard | ||
| CF | White capped mountain ranges surround these woods on all sides. Tall | ||
| CF | pines tower over this clearing in the woods, laced with snow. The bare | ||
| CF | dirt here is scraggled with dead weeds and frozen puddles. Fat, lazy | ||
| CF | snowflakes drift from the darkening sky as twilight deepens. | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | The old woman's little house is to the west, the thatched barn is to | ||
| CF | the east, the path back to the road is south, and the path narrows as | ||
| CF | it disappears into the snowy woods to the north. | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | > | ||
| DavidW says (to ClubFloyd), "w" | ||
| CF ] Cottage | ||
| CF | > | ||
| CF | > W | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | Cottage | ||
| CF | A cozy room with a fire snapping in a stone fireplace. Kitchen | ||
| CF | counters and cabinets line one wall, and a rough wooden table | ||
| CF | separates the kitchen area from the living area. Two soft chairs are | ||
| CF | placed near the fire. | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | An old woman sits nodding in one of the chairs, peering at you from a | ||
| CF | wrinkled face. | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | Stairs lead up, there is a closed door to the west, and the yard is | ||
| CF | back east. | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | > | ||
| Jacqueline says (to ClubFloyd), "a needs" | ||
| CF ] Cottage | ||
| CF | > | ||
| CF | > A NEEDS | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | "Talk to me about something else," the old woman says. | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | > | ||
| DavidW says (to ClubFloyd), "a June" | ||
| CF ] Cottage | ||
| CF | > | ||
| CF | > A JUNE | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | "That was the beginning of it all. The hate and the death and the | ||
| CF | witch growing under my skin. The first death of myself, at the stone | ||
| CF | wall by the graves under the tree." She reaches out and touches your | ||
| CF | forehead with a wizened finger and a shock courses through you, a | ||
| CF | feeling of opening. She says, "You have an eye now to see, to sense. | ||
| CF | Go you out to the graveyard and sense the wall there. You'll see what | ||
| CF | happened." | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | You feel something like an eye pulsing inside you and know that | ||
| CF | you can SENSE objects now. | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | > | Jacqueline says, "I kind of want to make her tea or something." | |
| DavidW says (to Jacqueline), "I did too, but that option isn't available." | ||
| Jacqueline asks, "Oh, huh. So, go *back* outside?" | ||
| DavidW says (to ClubFloyd), "a eye" | ||
| CF ] Cottage | ||
| CF | > | ||
| CF | > A EYE | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | "You've always had that eye inside you. You were just looking at the | ||
| CF | wrong things with it, in the wrong way. I just gave it a poke. That's | ||
| CF | all magic really is: helping someone see." | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | > | Jacqueline says, "She hath poked us in the eye." | |
| DavidW says (to ClubFloyd), "e" | ||
| CF ] Yard | ||
| CF | > | ||
| CF | > E | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | You say, "Will you excuse me for a moment, ma'am?" and Mrs. Lajway | ||
| CF | replies, " Do what you need to do, Reverend. I'll be here." | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | Yard | ||
| CF | White capped mountain ranges surround these woods on all sides. Tall | ||
| CF | pines tower over this clearing in the woods, laced with snow. The bare | ||
| CF | dirt here is scraggled with dead weeds and frozen puddles. Fat, lazy | ||
| CF | snowflakes drift from the darkening sky as twilight deepens. | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | The old woman's little house is to the west, the thatched barn is to | ||
| CF | the east, the path back to the road is south, and the path narrows as | ||
| CF | it disappears into the snowy woods to the north. | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | > | ||
| DavidW says (to ClubFloyd), "n" | ||
| CF ] Graveyard | ||
| CF | > | ||
| CF | > N | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | Graveyard | ||
| CF | At the end of a path through the trees, a ruined stone fence tangled | ||
| CF | with dead vines surrounds a semi-cleared area in the trees. A huge low | ||
| CF | limbed sycamore tree spreads its bare branches over two moss covered | ||
| CF | stones. An unseen woodpecker clatters in the trees, the sharp sound | ||
| CF | intruding on the quiet of this space. | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | You can go back south to the yard. The forest grows thick and dark in | ||
| CF | every other direction. | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | > | Roger says, "oh no, an exposition curse" | |
| DavidW says (to ClubFloyd), "x tree" | ||
| CF ] Graveyard | ||
| CF | > | ||
| CF | > X TREE | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | It's perhaps the biggest tree you've ever seen, massive in girth, its | ||
| CF | branches so low that some of them brush the ground, the fat falling | ||
| CF | flakes of snow building on its huge, barren limbs. | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | > | ||
| DavidW says (to ClubFloyd), "x fence" | ||
| CF ] Graveyard | ||
| CF | > | ||
| CF | > X FENCE | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | The ruin of a stacked-stone wall, waist height, surrounding the giant | ||
| CF | tree. The forest crowds in close on the other side, the stones | ||
| CF | tumbling to the ground in places. Something there is that doesn't love | ||
| CF | a wall and brings it down each year. From experience you know that a | ||
| CF | wall like this requires repair every year, neighbors on either side to | ||
| CF | walk the line and set the wall between them once again, to each the | ||
| CF | boulders that have fallen to each. But this one has not been repaired | ||
| CF | in many years.The wall seems very bright, more real than anything else | ||
| CF | here. The eye inside you throbs. | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | > | ||
| DavidW says (to ClubFloyd), "sense fence" | ||
| CF | > | ||
| CF | > SENSE FENCE | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | Your vision blurs and shifts, and a digging sound fills your ears. You | ||
| CF | close your eyes, the eye inside you opening wide, and see something | ||
| CF | else, become someone else... | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | PRESS ANY KEY | ||
| DavidW pushes the green 'space' button. | ||
| CF ] Graveyard | ||
| CF | I sit on the cold stone wall, wringing my skirt in my hands, my heart | ||
| CF | a stone, and watch Toffile dig. With his own hand, he digs the grave, | ||
| CF | making the gravel leap and leap in air. Leap up like that and land so | ||
| CF | lightly and roll back down the mound beside the hole. I think, "Who is | ||
| CF | this man? I don't know him." | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | He leans the spade against the wall and talks of something, of fences | ||
| CF | and walls, of how stacked stone is better than birch, how birch fences | ||
| CF | will rot. He talks of rotting fences and the stones under me shift and | ||
| CF | the word rot hangs in the air and I hate him, his rumbling | ||
| CF | voice talking of rot with the stains on his shoes of fresh earth from | ||
| CF | his baby's grave. What has anything he says-- save rot-- to do with | ||
| CF | what lies in the darkened house? | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | Everyone else makes pretense of following love to the grave, but | ||
| CF | before they are in it their minds are turned and making the best of | ||
| CF | their way back to life and living people, and things they understand. | ||
| CF | When hate and sorrow poison your heart you are alone, and you die more | ||
| CF | alone. | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | I stand and run and run, the hatred in my heart and the seed in my | ||
| CF | belly growing even now until he catches me, holds me down, carries me | ||
| CF | back, and I lie alone grieving my baby in the earth, and for the one | ||
| CF | growing in me now, growing in poisoned earth. And then the new baby | ||
| CF | comes and things heal a little, a tender scab over the wound for | ||
| CF | twelve years, before ripping open in a gout of blood. | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | You blink and stagger, the eye inside closing, your heart stuttering, | ||
| CF | and you are yourself again, a haunted minister in a neglected | ||
| CF | graveyard at twilight in winter. | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | > | Jacqueline looks sad. | |
| Jacqueline says, "Well, that is all terrible." | ||
| DavidW says, "It'll get worse." | ||
| Jacqueline looks at David. | ||
| Jacqueline says, "Great." | ||
| Jacqueline exclaims, "Let's go back inside then!" | ||
| DavidW says (to ClubFloyd), "s" | ||
| CF ] Yard | ||
| CF | > | ||
| CF | > S | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | Yard | ||
| CF | White capped mountain ranges surround these woods on all sides. Tall | ||
| CF | pines tower over this clearing in the woods, laced with snow. The bare | ||
| CF | dirt here is scraggled with dead weeds and frozen puddles. Fat, lazy | ||
| CF | snowflakes drift from the darkening sky as twilight deepens. | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | The old woman's little house is to the west, the thatched barn is to | ||
| CF | the east, the path back to the road is south, and the path narrows as | ||
| CF | it disappears into the snowy woods to the north. | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | > | ||
| DavidW says (to ClubFloyd), "w" | ||
| CF ] Cottage | ||
| CF | > | ||
| CF | > W | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | Cottage | ||
| CF | A cozy room with a fire snapping in a stone fireplace. Kitchen | ||
| CF | counters and cabinets line one wall, and a rough wooden table | ||
| CF | separates the kitchen area from the living area. Two soft chairs are | ||
| CF | placed near the fire. | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | An old woman sits nodding in one of the chairs, peering at you from a | ||
| CF | wrinkled face. | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | Stairs lead up, there is a closed door to the west, and the yard is | ||
| CF | back east. | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | > | DavidW asks, "The obvious next step is to ask about William, but perhaps there's only topics first?" | |
| DavidW asks, "er other topics?" | ||
| Roger says, "could be" | ||
| Jacqueline says, "I have this impulse to say, 'Let's just violate her privacy entirely and go upstairs.'" | ||
| DavidW says (to ClubFloyd), "u" | ||
| CF ] Cottage | ||
| CF | > | ||
| CF | > U | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | You needn't wander in this lady's house without her permission. You're | ||
| CF | here to help prepare her soul for death, not to snoop. | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | > | Jacqueline says, "Well, okay. Good deal." | |
| DavidW says (to ClubFloyd), "a Toffile" | ||
| CF ] Cottage | ||
| CF | > | ||
| CF | > A TOFFILE | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | "Toffile. I married him when I was seventeen, my first baby less than | ||
| CF | a year later. The grief he brought me until he died twenty years ago." | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | > | ||
| DavidW says (to ClubFloyd), "a rot" | ||
| CF ] Cottage | ||
| CF | > | ||
| CF | > A ROT | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | "Talk to me about something else," the old woman says. | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | > | ||
| Jacqueline says (to ClubFloyd), "a grief" | ||
| CF ] Cottage | ||
| CF | > | ||
| CF | > A GRIEF | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | "You could wring it from me like a sopping sponge. I think you | ||
| CF | understand something of grief, Reverend. I see it in your eyes. You | ||
| CF | keep it secret, though, I think." | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | > | ||
| Jacqueline says (to ClubFloyd), "t grief" | ||
| CF ] Cottage | ||
| CF | > | ||
| CF | > T GRIEF | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | "You could wring it from me like a sopping sponge. I think you | ||
| CF | understand something of grief, Reverend. I see it in your eyes. You | ||
| CF | keep it secret, though, I think." | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | > | Jacqueline asks, "Oh, we can't tell, only ask?" | |
| DavidW says, "They're synonyms in this game, as far as I know." | ||
| Jacqueline nods. | ||
| Roger says, "press x to pay respects" | ||
| DavidW asks, "Are we ready to ask about William?" | ||
| Roger says, "ayup" | ||
| DavidW says (to ClubFloyd), "a William" | ||
| CF ] Cottage | ||
| CF | > | ||
| CF | > A WILLIAM | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | "His death was the last time I could say I had a heart. There was a | ||
| CF | shred left after the first grave was dug, but it withered when the | ||
| CF | accident happened. I had it moved to the barn, that thing of evil." | ||
| CF | She reaches out and touches your forehead and a shock courses through | ||
| CF | you." She says, "Sense it now and you'll see. Go you out and sense | ||
| CF | it." | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | > | ||
| DavidW says (to ClubFloyd), "e" | ||
| CF ] Yard | ||
| CF | > | ||
| CF | > E | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | You say, "Will you excuse me for a moment, ma'am?" and Mrs. Lajway | ||
| CF | replies, " Do what you need to do, Reverend. I'll be here." | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | Yard | ||
| CF | White capped mountain ranges surround these woods on all sides. Tall | ||
| CF | pines tower over this clearing in the woods, laced with snow. The bare | ||
| CF | dirt here is scraggled with dead weeds and frozen puddles. Fat, lazy | ||
| CF | snowflakes drift from the darkening sky as twilight deepens. | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | The old woman's little house is to the west, the thatched barn is to | ||
| CF | the east, the path back to the road is south, and the path narrows as | ||
| CF | it disappears into the snowy woods to the north. | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | > | ||
| DavidW says (to ClubFloyd), "e" | ||
| CF ] Barn | ||
| CF | > | ||
| CF | > E | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | Barn | ||
| CF | Your little horse is here where you stabled him when you arrived, his | ||
| CF | harness bells jingling softly. Rustling noises come from the low | ||
| CF | thatch ceiling. | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | In the dim light, you can see a rusted buzz saw in one corner. A | ||
| CF | spiderweb gleams white above it. | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | The yard is back east. | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | > | Jacqueline asks, "... it?" | |
| DavidW says (to ClubFloyd), "x horse" | ||
| CF ] Barn | ||
| CF | > | ||
| CF | > X HORSE | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | Your little dappled gray horse. He'll be safe here in the barn while | ||
| CF | you sit with old Mrs. Lajway. He chuffs gently, his harness bells | ||
| CF | seeming to question you. You question yourself: what are you doing | ||
| CF | here? How can you comfort a dying woman when you cannot even comfort | ||
| CF | yourself? | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | > | ||
| DavidW says (to ClubFloyd), "pet horse" | ||
| CF ] Barn | ||
| CF | > | ||
| CF | > PET HORSE | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | You stroke the horse's long nose and he whickers contentedly. | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | > | ||
| DavidW says (to ClubFloyd), "x bells" | ||
| CF ] Barn | ||
| CF | > | ||
| CF | > X BELLS | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | A leather harness with bells on it that jingle softly when he tosses | ||
| CF | his head. | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | > | ||
| DavidW says (to ClubFloyd), "x web" | ||
| CF ] Barn | ||
| CF | > | ||
| CF | > X WEB | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | A spiderweb above the saw. It should be too cold for spiders, but here | ||
| CF | one is, fat and white. It should be too cold for moths, but the spider | ||
| CF | is busy wrapping up a white moth. The white web, the white spider, the | ||
| CF | white moth, all glowing softly in the dim of the barn, here when all | ||
| CF | these things should be dead or sleeping through the winter cold. They | ||
| CF | are as out of place as you are, the design of your life having brought | ||
| CF | you here despite your lack of fitness for the job, for any job, | ||
| CF | really. It seems in its unnatural presence a design of darkness | ||
| CF | clothed in white, appalling, inevitable. | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | > | ||
| DavidW says (to ClubFloyd), "x saw" | ||
| CF ] Barn | ||
| CF | > | ||
| CF | > X SAW | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | It hulks in the corner of the barn, rusted and silent, stained with | ||
| CF | reddish smears. You know that in use, it would rattle and jitter | ||
| CF | around, powered by a tractor's engine. This one looks as if it hasn't | ||
| CF | been used in decades.The saw seems very bright, more real than | ||
| CF | anything else here. The eye inside you throbs. | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | > | Jacqueline says, "ugh" | |
| Jacqueline says, "So maybe there was a murder." | ||
| DavidW says, "let me know when you're ready to sense the saw." | ||
| Roger says, "I am ready to see saw" | ||
| Jacqueline says, "...sure." | ||
| DavidW says (to ClubFloyd), "sense saw" | ||
| CF | > | ||
| CF | > SENSE SAW | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | Your vision blurs and shifts, and a snarling sound fills your ears. | ||
| CF | You close your eyes, the eye inside you opening wide, and see | ||
| CF | something else, becoming someone else... | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | PRESS ANY KEY | ||
| DavidW pushes the green 'space' button. | ||
| CF ] Barn | ||
| CF | I step out of the house into the yard, wiping my flour-covered hands | ||
| CF | on my apron. Willy is in the yard. Toffile is there, and the hired man | ||
| CF | Engelo, feeding logs into the buzz saw, which rattles and drops | ||
| CF | stove-length sticks of wood. The tractor chugs nearby, powering the | ||
| CF | saw with its engine. The day is nearly done, and the buzz saw snarls | ||
| CF | and rattles as I come out and call, "Supper!" | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | Just that one word, but the rattling saw is made hungry by the word. | ||
| CF | Willy is standing by it, and he sees me and holds a hand out as if to | ||
| CF | salute me. Toffile feeds in a log, and the saw jitters and rattles and | ||
| CF | leaps at Willy's hand; it seems his hand reaches out to it as well. | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | And Willy makes a sound like a laugh and holds up his arm, half in | ||
| CF | appeal, but half as if to keep the life from spilling. He is old | ||
| CF | enough, a boy doing a man's work, to know all is spoiled. Then he | ||
| CF | crumples, falls, the whole scene suddenly red. He begs, "Don't let him | ||
| CF | cut my hand off, the doctor, when he comes! Don't let him!" | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | But the hand is gone already. | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | The doctor comes and puts him in the dark of ether. His lips puff out | ||
| CF | his breath and then, watching his pulse, I take fright. I listen at | ||
| CF | his heart: Little-- less-- nothing! And that ended it. No more to | ||
| CF | build on there. The ones who are not the one dead turn to their | ||
| CF | affairs. | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | If they had only called it day a little earlier, given my Willy a half | ||
| CF | hour, the time that a boy counts so much when saved from work. But | ||
| CF | they did not, and Toffile and I are poisoned. I blame him for the | ||
| CF | work, for that last log. He blames me for the distraction, the | ||
| CF | announcement of supper that whetted the saw's hunger. Willy had held | ||
| CF | us together after the first death, but nothing could hold us together | ||
| CF | now, and I seek to be a witch indeed, with all the power of hate and | ||
| CF | hurt I can muster. | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | You blink and stagger, the eye inside closing, your heart stuttering, | ||
| CF | and you are yourself again, a haunted minister in a cold barn at | ||
| CF | twilight in winter. | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | > | Jacqueline says, "hmrmm" | |
| DavidW asks (of Roger?), "Are you ready to continue?" | ||
| Jacqueline says, "I think he... may be playing No Man's Sky." | ||
| Jacqueline glances at Roger. | ||
| DavidW asks, "oh?" | ||
| Jacqueline says, "I got a Steam notification." | ||
| Jacqueline says, "But he's been with us since then." | ||
| Jacqueline says, "So possibly he's just got a family thing or something." | ||
| Jacqueline says, "We can give him a sec." | ||
| Roger says, "Oh I'm ready" | ||
| DavidW asks, "What do you think we should ask the woman about next? The saw? Engelo? William again?" | ||
| Roger says, "yeah, any of those" | ||
| Jacqueline says, "yeah, any of those" | ||
| DavidW says (to ClubFloyd), "w" | ||
| CF ] Yard | ||
| CF | > | ||
| CF | > W | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | Yard | ||
| CF | White capped mountain ranges surround these woods on all sides. Tall | ||
| CF | pines tower over this clearing in the woods, laced with snow. The bare | ||
| CF | dirt here is scraggled with dead weeds and frozen puddles. Fat, lazy | ||
| CF | snowflakes drift from the darkening sky as twilight deepens. | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | The old woman's little house is to the west, the thatched barn is to | ||
| CF | the east, the path back to the road is south, and the path narrows as | ||
| CF | it disappears into the snowy woods to the north. | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | > | ||
| DavidW says (to ClubFloyd), "w" | ||
| CF ] Cottage | ||
| CF | > | ||
| CF | > W | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | Cottage | ||
| CF | A cozy room with a fire snapping in a stone fireplace. Kitchen | ||
| CF | counters and cabinets line one wall, and a rough wooden table | ||
| CF | separates the kitchen area from the living area. Two soft chairs are | ||
| CF | placed near the fire. | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | An old woman sits nodding in one of the chairs, peering at you from a | ||
| CF | wrinkled face. | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | Stairs lead up, there is a closed door to the west, and the yard is | ||
| CF | back east. | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | > | ||
| DavidW says (to ClubFloyd), "a saw" | ||
| CF ] Cottage | ||
| CF | > | ||
| CF | > A SAW | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | "We kept it, the thing that killed my boy. I'd look at it to remind me | ||
| CF | of my hate. I knew there would be more bones, but I didn't expect what | ||
| CF | happened in the cellar." | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | > | ||
| DavidW says (to ClubFloyd), "a Engelo" | ||
| CF ] Cottage | ||
| CF | > | ||
| CF | > A ENGELO | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | "What happened to the man was my fault. I doubt there will be any | ||
| CF | forgiveness for those sins." | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | > | ||
| DavidW says (to ClubFloyd), "a forgiveness" | ||
| CF ] Cottage | ||
| CF | > | ||
| CF | > A FORGIVENESS | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | "I don't know if I can be forgiven. I certainly can't forgive myself. | ||
| CF | You have a look as if you labor under your own curse, Reverend." | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | > | Jacqueline says, "...the... what... what happened in the cellar...." | |
| DavidW says (to ClubFloyd), "a cellar" | ||
| CF ] Cottage | ||
| CF | > | ||
| CF | > A CELLAR | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | "I have one photograph of my husband Toffile. I keep it in the | ||
| CF | cellar." She points at the door. "To remind me of how we died, long | ||
| CF | before our deaths. Please get it for me." | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | > | Jacqueline asks, "Do we gotta?" | |
| DavidW says (to ClubFloyd), "d" | ||
| CF ] Cottage | ||
| CF | > | ||
| CF | > D | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | It's too dark down there. You'd break your neck on the stairs. | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | > | ||
| DavidW says (to ClubFloyd), "a photograph" | ||
| CF ] Cottage | ||
| CF | > | ||
| CF | > A PHOTOGRAPH | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | "Go get my photo from the cellar, lad. You'll need a candle from the | ||
| CF | kitchen." | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | > | ||
| DavidW says (to ClubFloyd), "a candle" | ||
| CF ] Cottage | ||
| CF | > | ||
| CF | > A CANDLE | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | "There's a candle in the kitchen cabinet, lad." | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | > | ||
| DavidW says (to ClubFloyd), "open cabinet" | ||
| CF ] Cottage | ||
| CF | > | ||
| CF | > OPEN CABINET | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | You open the cabinets, revealing a candle. | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | > | ||
| DavidW says (to ClubFloyd), "take candle" | ||
| CF ] Cottage | ||
| CF | > | ||
| CF | > TAKE CANDLE | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | Taken. | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | > | ||
| DavidW says (to ClubFloyd), "x it" | ||
| CF ] Cottage | ||
| CF | > | ||
| CF | > X IT | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | A tall wax candle in a tin candle holder. | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | > | ||
| DavidW says (to ClubFloyd), "light it with fire" | ||
| CF ] Cottage | ||
| CF | > | ||
| CF | > LIGHT IT WITH FIRE | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | You light the candle on the fire. | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | > | Roger says, "a candle and no tea" | |
| DavidW asks (of Roger), "I know, right?" | ||
| DavidW says (to ClubFloyd), "d" | ||
| CF ] Cellar | ||
| CF | > | ||
| CF | > D | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | Cellar | ||
| CF | A dark, dank earth-floored cellar. There's a long rectangular | ||
| CF | depression in the middle of the dirt floor. Sagging shelves line the | ||
| CF | walls and a toolchest lies beneath them. Bulkhead double doors are | ||
| CF | closed over a short flight of steps to the north. A rickety stairway | ||
| CF | leads back up. | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | On the shelves are some canned goods and a photograph. | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | > | ||
| DavidW says (to ClubFloyd), "x photo" | ||
| CF ] Cellar | ||
| CF | > | ||
| CF | > X PHOTO | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | A faded sepia photograph of a severe-looking man. | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | > | ||
| DavidW says (to ClubFloyd), "take it" | ||
| CF ] Cellar | ||
| CF | > | ||
| CF | > TAKE IT | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | Taken. | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | > | ||
| DavidW says (to ClubFloyd), "x goods" | ||
| CF ] Cellar | ||
| CF | > | ||
| CF | > X GOODS | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | Cans of preserved fruit and vegetables. They're dusty, the bright | ||
| CF | colors of the preserves dulled under dirt. They've been sitting down | ||
| CF | here a long time. | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | > | ||
| DavidW says (to ClubFloyd), "x doors" | ||
| CF ] Cellar | ||
| CF | > | ||
| CF | > X DOORS | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | Double doors that open to the north. They're firmly latched shut | ||
| CF | against the cold, but it is very chilly down here. | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | > | ||
| DavidW says (to ClubFloyd), "x toolchest" | ||
| CF ] Cellar | ||
| CF | > | ||
| CF | > X TOOLCHEST | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | A small rusted toolchest. | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | > | ||
| DavidW says (to ClubFloyd), "open it" | ||
| CF ] Cellar | ||
| CF | > | ||
| CF | > OPEN IT | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | You open the toolchest, revealing a claw hammer. | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | > | ||
| DavidW says (to ClubFloyd), "x hammer" | ||
| CF ] Cellar | ||
| CF | > | ||
| CF | > X HAMMER | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | A claw hammer. One end of the head is split and curved for pulling | ||
| CF | nails. | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | > | ||
| DavidW says (to ClubFloyd), "x depression" | ||
| CF ] Cellar | ||
| CF | > | ||
| CF | > X DEPRESSION | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | A rectangular depression in the hard-packed stone floor. | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | > | DavidW says, "I think that's everything but the stairs." | |
| DavidW says (to ClubFloyd), "x stairs" | ||
| CF ] Cellar | ||
| CF | > | ||
| CF | > X STAIRS | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | You can't see any such thing. | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | > | Jacqueline says, "I mean, we got the photo, so." | |
| DavidW says (to ClubFloyd), "u" | ||
| CF ] Cottage | ||
| CF | > | ||
| CF | > U | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | Cottage | ||
| CF | A cozy room with a fire snapping in a stone fireplace. Kitchen | ||
| CF | counters and cabinets line one wall, and a rough wooden table | ||
| CF | separates the kitchen area from the living area. Two soft chairs are | ||
| CF | placed near the fire. | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | An old woman sits nodding in one of the chairs, peering at you from a | ||
| CF | wrinkled face. | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | Stairs lead up, there is a closed door to the west, and the yard is | ||
| CF | back east. | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | > | ||
| DavidW says (to ClubFloyd), "give photo" | ||
| CF ] Cottage | ||
| CF | > | ||
| CF | > GIVE PHOTO | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | (to Mrs. Lajway) | ||
| CF | You give the old woman the photograph and she traces her fingers along | ||
| CF | its lines for a moment and says, "Ill-fated, we were. I was wild with | ||
| CF | anger and grief after June's death, his coldness. And we were ruined | ||
| CF | after Willy died. I hated him and he hated me and I ran to another | ||
| CF | man. I didn't try very hard to keep it a secret; I wanted to punish | ||
| CF | Toffile." | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | She touches your forehead with a finger and a spark flares through | ||
| CF | you, the eye inside you opens further. She says, "Go you to the yard | ||
| CF | out back behind the house, through the cellar and sense the tree | ||
| CF | there." She throws the photograph into the fire and it shrivels and | ||
| CF | turns to ash. | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | > | Jacqueline says, "Okay" | |
| DavidW says (to ClubFloyd), "d" | ||
| CF ] Cellar | ||
| CF | > | ||
| CF | > D | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | Cellar | ||
| CF | A dark, dank earth-floored cellar. There's a long rectangular | ||
| CF | depression in the middle of the dirt floor. Sagging shelves line the | ||
| CF | walls and a toolchest lies beneath them. Bulkhead double doors are | ||
| CF | closed over a short flight of steps to the north. A rickety stairway | ||
| CF | leads back up. | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | On the shelves are some canned goods. | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | > | ||
| DavidW says (to ClubFloyd), "n" | ||
| CF ] Back yard | ||
| CF | > | ||
| CF | > N | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | Back yard | ||
| CF | Behind the house, a brick-walled garden area with a large leafless | ||
| CF | apple tree and a coating of snow on the ground. It must be beautiful | ||
| CF | in summer. | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | The bulkhead double doors lead back south into the cellar. | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | > | ||
| DavidW says (to ClubFloyd), "x brick" | ||
| CF ] Back yard | ||
| CF | > | ||
| CF | > X BRICK | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | A sturdy brick wall surrounding the garden area. | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | > | ||
| DavidW says (to ClubFloyd), "x tree" | ||
| CF ] Back yard | ||
| CF | > | ||
| CF | > X TREE | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | A large gnarled apple tree, barren and coated with the falling snow. | ||
| CF | The tree seems very bright, more real than anything else here. The eye | ||
| CF | inside you throbs. | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | > | ||
| DavidW says (to ClubFloyd), "sense tree" | ||
| CF | > | ||
| CF | > SENSE TREE | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | Your vision blurs and shifts, and a panting sound fills your ears. You | ||
| CF | close your eyes, the eye inside you opening wide, and see something | ||
| CF | else, become someone else... | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | PRESS ANY KEY | ||
| DavidW pushes the green 'space' button. | ||
| CF ] Back yard | ||
| CF | The high brick wall all around, the apple tree in flower, my back | ||
| CF | against the rough wood, thighs slick with sweat. I was a flower in a | ||
| CF | windowsill, the cold breeze blowing at the glass, and the pain and | ||
| CF | hatred shattered it, let the breeze in to mark me with teeth and | ||
| CF | nails. Engelo sighs and groans on my shoulder, heaving me against the | ||
| CF | tree, my skirts up around my waist, my blouse open as my back arches | ||
| CF | and my legs grip him tighter. He was fleeing the jaws of the war, saw | ||
| CF | the roses of sorrow in my cheeks, his heart not averse to being | ||
| CF | beguiled by a witch. To being a slave to a springtime passion, my soft | ||
| CF | petals that hide something dark. My heart is locked in a gold case of | ||
| CF | malice, pinned with a silver pin, harboring woe in the bridal house | ||
| CF | and I bite him and pull him and he's under my spell, the snare I set | ||
| CF | for my husband. | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | I make noise, too much, not secret, and his hand comes up, gentle, to | ||
| CF | shush me, fear in his eyes. I push his hand away and clasp him hard, | ||
| CF | my hips moving so that he can't escape, screaming out my pleasure and | ||
| CF | pain and hatred, and he holds his hand outstretched, maybe to cover my | ||
| CF | mouth, maybe to grasp some sanity from the air but he can't stop | ||
| CF | moving in me his hand is rough over my mouth and I bite him and | ||
| CF | scream. And my ruinous witchery is satisfied-- there is Toffile behind | ||
| CF | him and I see him take in my nakedness, the grunting man with his hand | ||
| CF | outstretched, and I see the violence rise in Toffile and I smile and | ||
| CF | wait for him to end me. | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | You blink and stagger, the eye inside closing, your heart stuttering, | ||
| CF | and you are yourself again, a haunted minister in a neglected yard at | ||
| CF | twilight in winter. | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | > | Roger says, "I think this story is not well-suited for this medium" | |
| DavidW says, "no? It works well, I though." | ||
| DavidW says, "er thought" | ||
| Roger says, "maybe it's just my tastes" | ||
| Jacqueline says, "I think it works well. But I think we'll want a content warning." | ||
| Roger says, "sure" | ||
| DavidW says, "oh yes, I can see that." | ||
| DavidW asks, "Back to her again?" | ||
| Jacqueline says, "Sure." | ||
| DavidW says (to ClubFloyd), "s" | ||
| CF ] Cellar | ||
| CF | > | ||
| CF | > S | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | Cellar | ||
| CF | A dark, dank earth-floored cellar. There's a long rectangular | ||
| CF | depression in the middle of the dirt floor. Sagging shelves line the | ||
| CF | walls and a toolchest lies beneath them. Bulkhead double doors are | ||
| CF | closed over a short flight of steps to the north. A rickety stairway | ||
| CF | leads back up. | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | On the shelves are some canned goods. | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | > | ||
| DavidW says (to ClubFloyd), "u" | ||
| CF ] Cottage | ||
| CF | > | ||
| CF | > U | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | Cottage | ||
| CF | A cozy room with a fire snapping in a stone fireplace. Kitchen | ||
| CF | counters and cabinets line one wall, and a rough wooden table | ||
| CF | separates the kitchen area from the living area. Two soft chairs are | ||
| CF | placed near the fire. | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | An old woman sits nodding in one of the chairs, peering at you from a | ||
| CF | wrinkled face. | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | Stairs lead up, there is a closed door to the west, and the yard is | ||
| CF | back east. | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | > | ||
| DavidW says (to ClubFloyd), "a hate" | ||
| CF ] Cottage | ||
| CF | > | ||
| CF | > A HATE | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | "I know more about hate than most, I guess. Perhaps that's why they | ||
| CF | call me a witch-- they can see it behind my eyes." | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | > | ||
| DavidW says (to ClubFloyd), "a sex" | ||
| CF ] Cottage | ||
| CF | > | ||
| CF | > A SEX | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | "Talk to me about something else," the old woman says. | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | > | ||
| DavidW says (to ClubFloyd), "a engelo" | ||
| CF ] Cottage | ||
| CF | > | ||
| CF | > A ENGELO | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | "There's another grave. Or it was a grave, though it isn't now. Or | ||
| CF | maybe once a grave, always so, even when the bones have left it. I | ||
| CF | never meant to make him into bones. I thought it would be my death, or | ||
| CF | Toffile's or us both. He didn't deserve it. Toffile said he killed him | ||
| CF | for me, but truly he killed him instead of me. Then the least I could | ||
| CF | do was help dig the grave. We were about it that night in the cellar. | ||
| CF | The grave itself is still there, although... well, you'll see. Go | ||
| CF | sense it." She touches your forehead and you feel the eye inside you | ||
| CF | widen. | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | > | DavidW says, "The depression. They buried Engelo in the cellar." | |
| Jacqueline asks, "This place-based seeing stuff ... could we not see things sitting by the warm fire?" | ||
| DavidW asks, "heh. All this walking around seems awkward?" | ||
| Jacqueline says, "Well, it's feeling a little mechanical." | ||
| Jacqueline says, "But I get it." | ||
| DavidW says (to ClubFloyd), "d" | ||
| CF ] Cellar | ||
| CF | > | ||
| CF | > D | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | Cellar | ||
| CF | A dark, dank earth-floored cellar. There's a long rectangular | ||
| CF | depression in the middle of the dirt floor. Sagging shelves line the | ||
| CF | walls and a toolchest lies beneath them. Bulkhead double doors are | ||
| CF | closed over a short flight of steps to the north. A rickety stairway | ||
| CF | leads back up. | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | On the shelves are some canned goods. | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | > | ||
| DavidW says (to ClubFloyd), "sense depression" | ||
| CF | > | ||
| CF | > SENSE DEPRESSION | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | Your vision blurs and shifts, and a digging sound sound fills your | ||
| CF | ears. You close your eyes and the eye inside you opens wide and you | ||
| CF | see something else, become someone else... | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | PRESS ANY KEY | ||
| DavidW pushes the green 'space' button. | ||
| CF ] Cellar | ||
| CF | I stand over Engelo's body, still slick with sweat from our coupling, | ||
| CF | newly slick with sweat from digging. He lies pale and cold on the | ||
| CF | cellar floor, the man my husband killed for me. I mean the man he | ||
| CF | killed instead of me. The least I can do is help dig the grave. We've | ||
| CF | been digging in the hard-packed floor for hours. No one will miss such | ||
| CF | a man, who might leave a job at the slightest whim and go singing down | ||
| CF | the open road, who is always after an open door, an easy way out. | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | Toffile wipes grave-grime from his sweaty face and nods: the hole is | ||
| CF | deep enough. Together we push him into his grave and I remember how he | ||
| CF | heaved that same body, stiffening, against me just hours ago, his body | ||
| CF | stiffening now as we push it into the hole in the cellar. We fill in | ||
| CF | the hole, the two of us with the spade all night, and it seems I can | ||
| CF | still hear him singing Wild Colonial Boy, the ghost of the | ||
| CF | song getting fainter as the dirt fills his mouth and presses him down. | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | You blink and stagger, the eye inside closing, your heart stuttering, | ||
| CF | and you are yourself again, a haunted minister in a dank, cold cellar | ||
| CF | by an empty grave. | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | > | Jacqueline nods and looks at DW & Roger. | |
| DavidW says (to ClubFloyd), "u" | ||
| CF ] Cottage | ||
| CF | > | ||
| CF | > U | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | Cottage | ||
| CF | A cozy room with a fire snapping in a stone fireplace. Kitchen | ||
| CF | counters and cabinets line one wall, and a rough wooden table | ||
| CF | separates the kitchen area from the living area. Two soft chairs are | ||
| CF | placed near the fire. | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | An old woman sits nodding in one of the chairs, peering at you from a | ||
| CF | wrinkled face. | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | Stairs lead up, there is a closed door to the west, and the yard is | ||
| CF | back east. | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | > | Jacqueline says, "Such a cozy room with a fire snapping in the fireplace." | |
| DavidW says (to ClubFloyd), "x fire" | ||
| CF ] Cottage | ||
| CF | > | ||
| CF | > X FIRE | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | A big stone fireplace with a bright fire crackling in it, warming the | ||
| CF | room and bathing everything in its soft golden light. | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | > | DavidW says, "yes, the fire is pleasant" | |
| Jacqueline says, "Really cottage-core, yeah." | ||
| DavidW says (to ClubFloyd), "x afghan" | ||
| CF ] Cottage | ||
| CF | > | ||
| CF | > X AFGHAN | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | An afghan blanket crocheted in wool yarn that was once colorful, but | ||
| CF | is now faded with age. | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | > | ||
| DavidW says (to ClubFloyd), "x chairs" | ||
| CF ] Cottage | ||
| CF | > | ||
| CF | > X CHAIRS | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | Two soft, worn armchairs by the fire. Mrs. Lajway sees you looking at | ||
| CF | them and says, "Please sit, Father, and talk with me. That is what you | ||
| CF | are here for, yes?" | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | > | ||
| DavidW says (to ClubFloyd), "sit" | ||
| CF ] Cottage | ||
| CF | > | ||
| CF | > SIT | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | You get onto the armchair. | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | > | ||
| Jacqueline says (to ClubFloyd), "a hell" | ||
| CF ] Cottage | ||
| CF | > | ||
| CF | > A HELL | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | "Talk to me about something else," the old woman says. | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | > | ||
| Jacqueline says (to ClubFloyd), "a heaven" | ||
| CF ] Cottage | ||
| CF | > | ||
| CF | > A HEAVEN | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | "Talk to me about something else," the old woman says. | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | > | ||
| Jacqueline says (to ClubFloyd), "a god" | ||
| CF ] Cottage | ||
| CF | > | ||
| CF | > A GOD | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | "That's your business here, I know." She peers into your eyes, a hard | ||
| CF | gaze for such cloudy eyes, and says, "But maybe not. Maybe you don't | ||
| CF | know your business. My heart runs out, and I still don't know. Neither | ||
| CF | will you. There's something there, but how it can be good I do not | ||
| CF | know." | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | > | DavidW says, "We're just gonna stand up again, of course." | |
| Jacqueline says, "We'll have to go see something, yes." | ||
| Jacqueline says, "But might as well rest our feet a second." | ||
| DavidW says, "I suppose we can ask about Toffile or herself or the depression or Engelo again." | ||
| Jacqueline says, "Sure." | ||
| DavidW says (to ClubFloyd), "a Toffile" | ||
| CF ] Cottage | ||
| CF | > | ||
| CF | > A TOFFILE | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | "That man. So much grief between us, so much death. Then he died | ||
| CF | himself, but not before everything else that mattered. Not before the | ||
| CF | cellar and what happened there. After everything, he called me his | ||
| CF | sorrow, and that was so. I was his sorrow as he was mine." | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | > | ||
| DavidW says (to ClubFloyd), "a sorrow" | ||
| CF ] Cottage | ||
| CF | > | ||
| CF | > A SORROW | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | "A lifetime of it. All the death, all the secrets, all the sins. All | ||
| CF | the bones. It's a wonder I lived at all, with the weight of it." | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | > | ||
| DavidW says (to ClubFloyd), "a herself" | ||
| CF ] Cottage | ||
| CF | > | ||
| CF | > A HERSELF | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | "I'm dying. Something is dying in you too. Like calls to like. I can | ||
| CF | see the death in you." | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | > | ||
| DavidW says (to ClubFloyd), "a death" | ||
| CF ] Cottage | ||
| CF | > | ||
| CF | > A DEATH | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | "Not long now. I'm glad it's you here with me, though I've no use for | ||
| CF | church. But there's something in your face that tells me you know | ||
| CF | about pain." | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | > | ||
| DavidW says (to ClubFloyd), "a engelo" | ||
| CF ] Cottage | ||
| CF | > | ||
| CF | > A ENGELO | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | She says, "His bones stayed in the cellar for nearly twenty years as I | ||
| CF | punished Toffile and he punished me. Until the night they came up the | ||
| CF | stairs, carrying themselves like a pile of dishes, bones clacking. I | ||
| CF | was here exactly when I heard them below. Go upstairs, if you would be | ||
| CF | so kind, and find my button box. Bring it here to me. I've something | ||
| CF | to show you." | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | > | Jacqueline asks, "Buttons of bone?" | |
| DavidW says (to ClubFloyd), "u" | ||
| CF ] Bedroom | ||
| CF | > | ||
| CF | > U | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | (first getting off the armchair) | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | Bedroom | ||
| CF | A snug little room, the heat from the fire below rising through the | ||
| CF | floorboards to warm it. A brass bed is against one wall, pushed | ||
| CF | against a door. Under a window stands a dressing table cluttered with | ||
| CF | bottles and boxes. A dark pine tree is just outside the window, | ||
| CF | tapping on the glass as if trying to open the window and come in. | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | Stairs lead back down. | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | > | DavidW says, "Maybe? Maybe not." | |
| DavidW says (to ClubFloyd), "x bed" | ||
| CF ] Bedroom | ||
| CF | > | ||
| CF | > X BED | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | A brass bed, brightly polished, made up with warm patchwork quilts. It | ||
| CF | has been pushed against a door. | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | > | ||
| DavidW says (to ClubFloyd), "x door" | ||
| CF ] Bedroom | ||
| CF | > | ||
| CF | > X DOOR | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | A plain door behind the bed. It seems you can hear a faint scraping | ||
| CF | noise on the other side of it. | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | > | ||
| Jacqueline says (to ClubFloyd), "x window" | ||
| CF ] Bedroom | ||
| CF | > | ||
| CF | > X WINDOW | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | A small window with a dark pine tree just outside it, tapping at the | ||
| CF | glass with tireless but ineffectual hands. | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | > | ||
| DavidW says (to ClubFloyd), "x pine" | ||
| CF ] Bedroom | ||
| CF | > | ||
| CF | > X PINE | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | A dark pine tree just outside the window, the wind blowing it so that | ||
| CF | its branches tap against the glass. When you were a child, you had an | ||
| CF | oft-repeated dream about a tree outside your own window, trying to get | ||
| CF | into your room at night, a dread of what it might do if it came | ||
| CF | inside. | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | > | ||
| DavidW says (to ClubFloyd), "listen" | ||
| CF ] Bedroom | ||
| CF | > | ||
| CF | > LISTEN | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | The tree tapping against the window. A faint scraping behind the door. | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | > | Jacqueline says, "I saw Polergeist. It was pretty bad." | |
| DavidW says (to ClubFloyd), "x table" | ||
| CF ] Bedroom | ||
| CF | > | ||
| CF | > X TABLE | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | A dressing table cluttered with boxes and bottles. | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | > | Jacqueline says, "er, Poltergeist." | |
| DavidW says (to ClubFloyd), "x boxes" | ||
| CF ] Bedroom | ||
| CF | > | ||
| CF | > X BOXES | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | A sewing box, a button box, a jewelry box, a sundries box, a | ||
| CF | stationery box. | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | > | ||
| DavidW says (to ClubFloyd), "x bottles" | ||
| CF ] Bedroom | ||
| CF | > | ||
| CF | > X BOTTLES | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | Small bottles of medicines, oils, scents, unguents. | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | > | ||
| DavidW says (to ClubFloyd), "x sewing" | ||
| CF ] Bedroom | ||
| CF | > | ||
| CF | > X SEWING | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | A box full of sewing supplies. | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | > | ||
| DavidW says (to ClubFloyd), "x button" | ||
| CF ] Bedroom | ||
| CF | > | ||
| CF | > X BUTTON | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | A box full of buttons of all kinds. | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | > | ||
| DavidW says (to ClubFloyd), "take it" | ||
| CF ] Bedroom | ||
| CF | > | ||
| CF | > TAKE IT | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | Taken. | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | > | Jacqueline says, "Unguents is *such* a word." | |
| DavidW says (to ClubFloyd), "x jewelry" | ||
| CF ] Bedroom | ||
| CF | > | ||
| CF | > X JEWELRY | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | A box full of small, inexpensive pieces of jewelry. | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | > | ||
| DavidW says (to ClubFloyd), "x sundries" | ||
| CF ] Bedroom | ||
| CF | > | ||
| CF | > X SUNDRIES | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | A box full of odds and ends. | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | > | ||
| DavidW says (to ClubFloyd), "x stationery" | ||
| CF ] Bedroom | ||
| CF | > | ||
| CF | > X STATIONERY | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | A box full of yellowed stationery. | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | > | ||
| DavidW says (to ClubFloyd), "x medicines" | ||
| CF ] Bedroom | ||
| CF | > | ||
| CF | > X MEDICINES | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | Small bottles of medicines, oils, scents, unguents. | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | > | DavidW says, "The bottles are just one item." | |
| DavidW says, "but yes, unguents is a crazy word" | ||
| Jacqueline says, "It a pretty good word for what it is." | ||
| DavidW says, "One I should find in Infinite Craft." | ||
| Jacqueline says, "It's like the tangible version of onomatopoeia." | ||
| Jacqueline says, "Somehow." | ||
| DavidW says, "The 7th Unguent -- there's a fun IF title." | ||
| Jacqueline asks, "Well, take them down?" | ||
| DavidW says, "sure" | ||
| DavidW says (to ClubFloyd), "d" | ||
| CF ] Cottage | ||
| CF | > | ||
| CF | > D | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | Cottage | ||
| CF | A cozy room with a fire snapping in a stone fireplace. Kitchen | ||
| CF | counters and cabinets line one wall, and a rough wooden table | ||
| CF | separates the kitchen area from the living area. Two soft chairs are | ||
| CF | placed near the fire. | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | An old woman sits nodding in one of the chairs, peering at you from a | ||
| CF | wrinkled face. | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | Stairs lead up, there is a closed door to the west, and the yard is | ||
| CF | back east. | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | > | ||
| DavidW says (to ClubFloyd), "give box" | ||
| CF ] Cottage | ||
| CF | > | ||
| CF | > GIVE BOX | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | (to Mrs. Lajway) | ||
| CF | You hand the box to the old woman and she opens it and roots around in | ||
| CF | it, saying, "I kept the finger bones, of course. I hear them moving in | ||
| CF | this box in the dark, sometimes. Trying to find their way back to the | ||
| CF | rest of the bones. It wouldn't have been right at all to let any of | ||
| CF | those wretched bones be lost, be on their own. After that night, the | ||
| CF | night the bones came up the stairs, I gathered them." She continues | ||
| CF | rooting through the box, peering with filmy eyes at each small button. | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | The old lady sifts through the buttons in the box, frowning as she | ||
| CF | searches. | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | > | ||
| DavidW says (to ClubFloyd), "sit" | ||
| CF ] Cottage | ||
| CF | > | ||
| CF | > SIT | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | You get onto the armchair. | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | Mrs. Lajway holds up a button, peers at it, and then puts it back. | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | > | ||
| DavidW says (to ClubFloyd), "x buttons" | ||
| CF ] Cottage | ||
| CF | > | ||
| CF | > X BUTTONS | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | You can't see any such thing. | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | > | ||
| DavidW says (to ClubFloyd), "look in box" | ||
| CF ] Cottage | ||
| CF | > | ||
| CF | > LOOK IN BOX | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | A box full of buttons of all kinds. | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | The old lady sifts through the buttons in the box, frowning as she | ||
| CF | searches. | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | > | ||
| DavidW says (to ClubFloyd), "a buttons" | ||
| CF ] Cottage | ||
| CF | > | ||
| CF | > A BUTTONS | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | She looks at you and holds her withered hand out to you. "Take my hand | ||
| CF | and see," she says. "I am still that much a witch, that I can take you | ||
| CF | there. So someone can know, before I die. So that the unsuspecting | ||
| CF | don't find out what this house holds, snooping around here while I lie | ||
| CF | in my own grave." | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | > | Jacqueline asks, "And where will your bones go, woman?" | |
| DavidW says, "Look, we can stay by the fire for this one!" | ||
| DavidW says (to ClubFloyd), "take hand" | ||
| CF | > | ||
| CF | > TAKE HAND | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | Your vision blurs and shifts, and a pulsing sound fills your ears. You | ||
| CF | close open your eyes, the eye inside you opening wide, and see | ||
| CF | something else... | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | PRESS ANY KEY | ||
| DavidW pushes the green 'space' button. | ||
| CF ] Cottage | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | Cottage (on the armchair) | ||
| CF | I pull the afghan tighter to me, snuggling into the chair by the | ||
| CF | fireplace, fire crackling in it. It's warm here in my flannel | ||
| CF | nightgown, covered by the afghan I crocheted with my own hands. And | ||
| CF | it's sweet to punish Toffile with my absence; every night I go to | ||
| CF | sleep here before going to bed, waiting until Toffile is asleep. | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | > | ||
| DavidW says (to ClubFloyd), "x me" | ||
| CF ] Cottage | ||
| CF | > | ||
| CF | > X ME | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | I'm an older woman-- not old, but past middle age-- dressed in a | ||
| CF | flannel nightgown. | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | > | Jacqueline says, "Love it when I can sit by the fire during my visions." | |
| Jacqueline says, "So much nicer." | ||
| DavidW says (to ClubFloyd), "x afghan" | ||
| CF ] Cottage | ||
| CF | > | ||
| CF | > X AFGHAN | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | An afghan blanket crocheted in brightly colored wool. You made this | ||
| CF | yourself several years ago, working on it every night for months. It's | ||
| CF | soft and warm. | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | > | ||
| DavidW says (to ClubFloyd), "x nightgown" | ||
| CF ] Cottage | ||
| CF | > | ||
| CF | > X NIGHTGOWN | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | A faded but cozy flannel nightgown. | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | I hear something, like someone walking around. It's Toffile up in the | ||
| CF | bedroom? No, it's below me, in the cellar. | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | Someone begins climbing the cellar stairs, two footsteps for each | ||
| CF | step, the way a man with one leg and a crutch, or a little child, | ||
| CF | comes up. It isn't Toffile; it isn't anyone who could be there. The | ||
| CF | bulkhead doors in the cellar are latched and swollen tight and buried | ||
| CF | under snow, so no one could have come in that way. | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | It's the bones. | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | The bones halt, helpless on the landing behind the door, waiting for | ||
| CF | things to happen in their favor. The faintest rustling runs all | ||
| CF | through them, a clicking behind that door. | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | > | ||
| DavidW says (to ClubFloyd), "x fire" | ||
| CF ] Cottage | ||
| CF | > | ||
| CF | > X FIRE | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | A big stone fireplace with a bright fire crackling in it, warming the | ||
| CF | room and bathing everything in its soft golden light. | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | I have the oddest urge to see the bones, such a strong wish to see how | ||
| CF | they are mounted for this walk. I have a vision of them put together | ||
| CF | not like a man, but like a chandelier. | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | > | ||
| DavidW says (to ClubFloyd), "listen" | ||
| CF ] Cottage | ||
| CF | > | ||
| CF | > LISTEN | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | The crackling of the fire and the low sound of wind in the eaves. | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | A dry scraping noise at the cellar door, as of bony fingers brushing | ||
| CF | the wood. I lurch a step closer to the door, horror and curiosity | ||
| CF | tugging me there. | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | > | ||
| DavidW says (to ClubFloyd), "z" | ||
| CF ] Cottage | ||
| CF | > | ||
| CF | > Z | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | Time passes. | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | The bones shudder and clatter behind the door. The urge rises in me to | ||
| CF | see them, to face what we did, me and Toffile. | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | > | ||
| DavidW says (to ClubFloyd), "z" | ||
| CF ] Cottage | ||
| CF | > | ||
| CF | > Z | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | Time passes. | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | A dry scraping noise at the cellar door, as of bony fingers brushing | ||
| CF | the wood. I lurch a step closer to the door, horror and curiosity | ||
| CF | tugging me there. | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | > | ||
| DavidW says (to ClubFloyd), "open door" | ||
| CF ] Cottage | ||
| CF | > | ||
| CF | > OPEN DOOR | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | I fling the door wide, the bones there in front of me. A moment they | ||
| CF | stand balancing with emotion, and all but lose themselves, nearly | ||
| CF | tumbling down again. A tongue of fire flashes out and licks along the | ||
| CF | upper teeth. Smoke rolls inside the sockets of his eyes. | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | His hand comes up, outstretched, the way he did in life once, reaching | ||
| CF | toward me. In supplication or in anger, I don't know. | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | I strike the hand off, the small bones brittle on the floor, and dart | ||
| CF | away. The bones pause briefly and then continue climbing, going every | ||
| CF | which way in the joints so that it looks like lightning or a scribble, | ||
| CF | up toward the bedroom, toward Toffile who struck the killing blow, | ||
| CF | sleeping upstairs. | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | > | ||
| DavidW says (to ClubFloyd), "x bones" | ||
| CF ] Cottage | ||
| CF | > | ||
| CF | > X BONES | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | (the finger bones) | ||
| CF | Small yellowed finger bones, scattered across the floor. | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | The skeleton shuffles out of view, up to the bedroom where Toffile is | ||
| CF | sleeping. | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | > | ||
| DavidW says (to ClubFloyd), "take bones" | ||
| CF ] Cottage | ||
| CF | > | ||
| CF | > TAKE BONES | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | I have bigger problems to worry about right now. The skeleton is | ||
| CF | upstairs in our bedroom, where Toffile is sleeping. | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | It's up there, with Toffile. You wait for his scream as the bones | ||
| CF | descend on him, but all is quiet. You can't stay down here and do | ||
| CF | nothing. | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | > | Jacqueline says, "Oh. Good deal, Engelo." | |
| DavidW says (to ClubFloyd), "listen" | ||
| CF ] Cottage | ||
| CF | > | ||
| CF | > LISTEN | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | The crackling of the fire and the low sound of wind in the eaves. | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | It's up there, with Toffile. You wait for his scream as the bones | ||
| CF | descend on him, but all is quiet. You can't stay down here and do | ||
| CF | nothing. | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | > | ||
| DavidW says (to ClubFloyd), "u" | ||
| CF ] Bedroom | ||
| CF | > | ||
| CF | > U | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | Bedroom | ||
| CF | I run up the stairs, exploding into the dark bedroom, screaming | ||
| CF | Toffile's name. | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | It's dark, the only light in the room coming from the faint moonlight | ||
| CF | through the window, filtered through the pine tree outside. Toffile's | ||
| CF | feet hit the floor and he's saying, "What's happening? Why are you | ||
| CF | screaming?" | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | > | ||
| DavidW says (to ClubFloyd), "t bones" | ||
| CF ] Bedroom | ||
| CF | > | ||
| CF | > T BONES | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | I say, "It's with us in the room. It's the bones." | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | "What bones?" he snaps. | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | "The cellar bones-- out of the grave," I answer. | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | I hear a slight rattling noise and spy a shifting movement out of the | ||
| CF | corner of my eye and strike out to bring it down, but nothing is | ||
| CF | there. Toffile says, "Amy, I don't see anything." | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | "It's here!" I insist. "It keeps going up. He's after an open door. | ||
| CF | Let's trap him in the attic." | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | Toffile says, "Sure," with a careful, alert edge in his voice, but | ||
| CF | doesn't move from the bed. | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | > | DavidW says, "This is the first name we hear her first name, Amy." | |
| DavidW says, "er first time" | ||
| DavidW says (to ClubFloyd), "x Toffile" | ||
| CF ] Bedroom | ||
| CF | > | ||
| CF | > X TOFFILE | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | I can't see him well, just blurry movement in the dark. I can hear | ||
| CF | him, though, his rumbling voice saying, "What is going on? Why all the | ||
| CF | screaming, woman?" | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | > | ||
| DavidW says (to ClubFloyd), "open door" | ||
| CF ] Cottage | ||
| CF | > | ||
| CF | > OPEN DOOR | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | I open the door and feel movement beside me. I cringe away and hear | ||
| CF | the steps begin to climb the attic stairs. "It's going!" I say, but | ||
| CF | Toffile isn't there. | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | I slam the door behind it. | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | "It's trapped!" I say, and suddenly there's light in the room as | ||
| CF | Toffile comes up the stairs with a lit candle and a strange expression | ||
| CF | on his face. Frightened. | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | I say, "Let the bones have the attic. Let them stay there," and plead | ||
| CF | with Toffile to nail the door shut. He does this, and then I make him | ||
| CF | push the bed up against the door. He does all I say, quietly, without | ||
| CF | questions, with that fearful look on his face. | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | I shut my eyes and feel a strange sensation... | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | and suddenly you are back in the living room's cottage, yourself | ||
| CF | again, the old woman sitting in her chair. She has let go of your | ||
| CF | hand, which tingles from holding hers, and folded her hands under the | ||
| CF | afghan. | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | You are shaking. You did not just see that. You fell asleep. The old | ||
| CF | witch magicked you. Your crisis of faith is actually a problem with | ||
| CF | your brain. That could not have actually happened. | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | Cottage | ||
| CF | A cozy room with a fire snapping in a stone fireplace. Kitchen | ||
| CF | counters and cabinets line one wall, and a rough wooden table | ||
| CF | separates the kitchen area from the living area. Two soft chairs are | ||
| CF | placed near the fire. | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | An old woman sits nodding in one of the chairs, peering at you from a | ||
| CF | wrinkled face. | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | Stairs lead up, there is a closed door to the west, and the yard is | ||
| CF | back east. | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | > | Jacqueline says, "Yeah, that jumped out (the name Amy, I mean, not the bones)." | |
| DavidW says (to ClubFloyd), "think" | ||
| CF ] Cottage | ||
| CF | > | ||
| CF | > THINK | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | What a good idea. | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | > | ||
| DavidW says (to ClubFloyd), "x faith" | ||
| CF ] Cottage | ||
| CF | > | ||
| CF | > X FAITH | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | You can't see any such thing. | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | > | ||
| Roger says (to cf), "pray" | ||
| CF ] Cottage | ||
| CF | > | ||
| CF | > PRAY | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | You close your eyes and silently say a prayer for yourself, to regain | ||
| CF | the solidity of your faith. | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | > | DavidW says, "ah. thanks" | |
| Roger says, "no problem" | ||
| Roger says (to cf), "x cross" | ||
| CF ] Cottage | ||
| CF | > | ||
| CF | > X CROSS | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | A small, plain carved wooden cross, polished and smooth as glass. | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | > | DavidW asks, "I suppose we ask about the bones or the attic next?" | |
| Jacqueline says (to ClubFloyd), "show cross" | ||
| CF ] Cottage | ||
| CF | > | ||
| CF | > SHOW CROSS | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | (to Mrs. Lajway) | ||
| CF | Mrs. Lajway peers at it and says, "I've no need of that, Reverend." | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | > | Jacqueline says, "Sure" | |
| DavidW says (to ClubFloyd), "a bones" | ||
| CF ] Cottage | ||
| CF | > | ||
| CF | > A BONES | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | She nods at the button box in her lap and says, "I can't find those | ||
| CF | finger bones. Strange, because I gathered them myself after Toffile | ||
| CF | went back to bed. The man said he never saw or heard anything that | ||
| CF | night. He was afraid, all right, but he was afraid of me, afraid I'd | ||
| CF | lost my mind. I punished him for twenty years more before his heart | ||
| CF | finally gave out, and in all that time the bones have been up there, | ||
| CF | in the attic. You can hear them at night-- they sometimes come down | ||
| CF | the attic stairs and stand perplexed behind the door, brushing its | ||
| CF | chalky skull with chalky fingers, with sounds like the dry rattling of | ||
| CF | a shutter. | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | "That's what I sit up in the dark to say to no one anymore since | ||
| CF | Toffile died. Too late, I forgive him. | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | "But they cannot stay there after I die. Someone must see to them." | ||
| CF | She turns her gaze on you and you nod. She says, "Good. Put them | ||
| CF | somewhere terrible. I wish you to be cruel to them, for they-- and I-- | ||
| CF | were so cruel to Toffile. Go you and see to them. Perhaps your God | ||
| CF | will keep you safe from them." Her voice is slurring, her eyes | ||
| CF | closing. | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | > | ||
| DavidW says (to ClubFloyd), "a attic" | ||
| CF ] Cottage | ||
| CF | > | ||
| CF | > A ATTIC | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | The old woman mutters something, her eyes closed. Poor thing, it's | ||
| CF | late and she's worn out from the night. You'll stay with her until the | ||
| CF | doctor gets here in the morning. | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | > | Jacqueline says, "Wow, we agreed to that super quickly." | |
| DavidW says (to ClubFloyd), "a amy" | ||
| CF ] Cottage | ||
| CF | > | ||
| CF | > A AMY | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | The old woman mutters something, her eyes closed. Poor thing, it's | ||
| CF | late and she's worn out from the night. You'll stay with her until the | ||
| CF | doctor gets here in the morning. | Jacqueline says, "I mean, I get that she's dying and all, but..." | |
| CF | | ||
| CF | > | DavidW says, "If the attic door is nailed shut, we'll need that claw hammer from the cellar." | |
| Jacqueline nods. | ||
| DavidW says (to ClubFloyd), "d" | ||
| CF ] Cellar | ||
| CF | > | ||
| CF | > D | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | Cellar | ||
| CF | A dark, dank earth-floored cellar. There's a long rectangular | ||
| CF | depression in the middle of the dirt floor. Sagging shelves line the | ||
| CF | walls and a toolchest lies beneath them. Bulkhead double doors are | ||
| CF | closed over a short flight of steps to the north. A rickety stairway | ||
| CF | leads back up. | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | On the shelves are some canned goods. | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | > | ||
| DavidW says (to ClubFloyd), "take hammer" | ||
| CF ] Cellar | ||
| CF | > | ||
| CF | > TAKE HAMMER | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | Taken. | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | > | ||
| DavidW says (to ClubFloyd), "u" | ||
| CF ] Cottage | ||
| CF | > | ||
| CF | > U | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | Cottage | ||
| CF | A cozy room with a fire snapping in a stone fireplace. Kitchen | ||
| CF | counters and cabinets line one wall, and a rough wooden table | ||
| CF | separates the kitchen area from the living area. Two soft chairs are | ||
| CF | placed near the fire. | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | An old woman sits nodding in one of the chairs, peering at you from a | ||
| CF | wrinkled face. | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | Stairs lead up, there is a closed door to the west, and the yard is | ||
| CF | back east. | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | > | ||
| DavidW says (to ClubFloyd), "u" | ||
| CF ] Bedroom | ||
| CF | > | ||
| CF | > U | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | Bedroom | ||
| CF | A snug little room, the heat from the fire below rising through the | ||
| CF | floorboards to warm it. A brass bed is against one wall, pushed | ||
| CF | against a door. Under a window stands a dressing table cluttered with | ||
| CF | bottles and boxes. A dark pine tree is just outside the window, | ||
| CF | tapping on the glass as if trying to open the window and come in. | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | Stairs lead back down. | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | > | ||
| DavidW says (to ClubFloyd), "move bed" | ||
| CF ] Bedroom | ||
| CF | > | ||
| CF | > MOVE BED | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | You push the brass bed to the side, leaving the door available. | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | > | ||
| DavidW says (to ClubFloyd), "x door" | ||
| CF ] Bedroom | ||
| CF | > | ||
| CF | > X DOOR | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | A plain wooden door, with nails holding it into the door frame. | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | > | ||
| DavidW says (to ClubFloyd), "pull nails" | ||
| CF ] Bedroom | ||
| CF | > | ||
| CF | > PULL NAILS | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | You pull the nails free of the door using the claw end of the hammer | ||
| CF | and they clink onto the floor. | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | > | ||
| DavidW says (to ClubFloyd), "open door" | ||
| CF ] Bedroom | ||
| CF | > | ||
| CF | > OPEN DOOR | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | You open the door, revealing the dark stairs beyond. | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | > | ||
| DavidW says (to ClubFloyd), "u" | ||
| CF ] Attic | ||
| CF | > | ||
| CF | > U | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | Attic | ||
| CF | You come into a small, cramped attic space, the ceiling sloping down | ||
| CF | sharply on either side. You shine the light from your candle around | ||
| CF | and see a few dusty old trunks and boxes, but nothing else. | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | > | DavidW says, "A distinct lack of animated skeleton." | |
| DavidW says (to ClubFloyd), "x trunks" | ||
| CF ] Attic | ||
| CF | > | ||
| CF | > X TRUNKS | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | Dusty trunks that have clearly been sitting up here, untouched, for a | ||
| CF | very long time. | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | > | ||
| DavidW says (to ClubFloyd), "open trunks" | ||
| CF ] Attic | ||
| CF | > | ||
| CF | > OPEN TRUNKS | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | You open the lids of the trunks and sift through the contents of each | ||
| CF | briefly, but find nothing but moth-eaten clothes, tattered old books, | ||
| CF | and old-fashioned junk. You close each one after you search it. | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | > | ||
| DavidW says (to ClubFloyd), "x boxes" | ||
| CF ] Attic | ||
| CF | > | ||
| CF | > X BOXES | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | Dusty boxes that have clearly been sitting up here, untouched, for a | ||
| CF | very long time. | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | > | ||
| DavidW says (to ClubFloyd), "open boxes" | ||
| CF ] Attic | ||
| CF | > | ||
| CF | > OPEN BOXES | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | You open each box and sift through the its contents briefly, but find | ||
| CF | nothing but ancient, faded newspapers and photographs, yellowed and | ||
| CF | holey linens, and old-fashioned junk. You close each one after you | ||
| CF | search it. | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | > | ||
| DavidW says (to ClubFloyd), "move trunks" | ||
| CF ] Attic | ||
| CF | > | ||
| CF | > MOVE TRUNKS | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | You shift them around a bit, but don't find anything. | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | > | ||
| DavidW says (to ClubFloyd), "move boxes" | ||
| CF ] Attic | ||
| CF | > | ||
| CF | > MOVE BOXES | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | You shift them around a bit, but don't find anything. | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | > | ||
| DavidW says (to ClubFloyd), "x ceiling" | ||
| CF ] Attic | ||
| CF | > | ||
| CF | > X CEILING | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | A steeply pitched ceiling that leaves only a narrow space to walk in | ||
| CF | without stooping. | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | > | ||
| DavidW says (to ClubFloyd), "x floor" | ||
| CF ] Attic | ||
| CF | > | ||
| CF | > X FLOOR | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | Wide wood planks. | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | > | ||
| DavidW says (to ClubFloyd), "x walls" | ||
| CF ] Attic | ||
| CF | > | ||
| CF | > X WALLS | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | You can't see any such thing. | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | > | ||
| DavidW says (to ClubFloyd), "l" | ||
| CF ] Attic | ||
| CF | > | ||
| CF | > L | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | Attic | ||
| CF | A small, cramped attic space, the ceiling sloping down sharply on | ||
| CF | either side. There are a few dusty trunks and boxes here. | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | The steep attic stairs lead back down to the bedroom. | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | > | ||
| DavidW says (to ClubFloyd), "x stairs" | ||
| CF ] Attic | ||
| CF | > | ||
| CF | > X STAIRS | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | Steep, rickety stairs leading back down to the bedroom. | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | > | DavidW asks, "Well, go back down?" | |
| Jacqueline nods. | ||
| DavidW says (to ClubFloyd), "d" | ||
| CF ] Attic | ||
| CF | > | ||
| CF | > D | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | As you start down the stairs, the candlelight gleams on something in | ||
| CF | the corner of the attic. You bend to look at it: it's a piece of bone, | ||
| CF | like a finger bone. | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | > | Roger says, "sure" | |
| DavidW says (to ClubFloyd), "x bone" | ||
| CF ] Attic | ||
| CF | > | ||
| CF | > X BONE | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | A small, thin, yellowish-white piece of bone, like a man's finger | ||
| CF | bone. | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | > | Jacqueline says, "oho" | |
| DavidW says (to ClubFloyd), "take bone" | ||
| CF ] Attic | ||
| CF | > | ||
| CF | > TAKE BONE | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | Taken. | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | > | ||
| DavidW says (to ClubFloyd), "d" | ||
| CF ] Bedroom | ||
| CF | > | ||
| CF | > D | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | Bedroom | ||
| CF | A snug little room, the heat from the fire below rising through the | ||
| CF | floorboards to warm it. A brass bed is against one wall, pushed | ||
| CF | against a door. Under a window stands a dressing table cluttered with | ||
| CF | bottles and boxes. A dark pine tree is just outside the window, | ||
| CF | tapping on the glass as if trying to open the window and come in. | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | Stairs lead back down. | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | You can see some nails here. | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | > | Jacqueline says, "Suddenly, we are a forensic anthropologist." | |
| Roger says, "DEFENESTRATE PHYLANGE" | ||
| Jacqueline says, "It is a male finger bone. Sure." | ||
| DavidW says (to ClubFloyd), "open window" | ||
| CF ] Bedroom | ||
| CF | > | ||
| CF | > OPEN WINDOW | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | The dark pine tree on the other side taps and scrapes at the glass as | ||
| CF | if it's trying to get in. You're suddenly struck by a childish, | ||
| CF | irrational certainty that if you opened the window, something bad | ||
| CF | would come in. Of course, it's also freezing and snowing outside, so | ||
| CF | there's a more practical reason not to. | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | > | DavidW says (to Roger), "nice idea" | |
| DavidW says (to ClubFloyd), "d" | ||
| CF ] Cottage | ||
| CF | > | ||
| CF | > D | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | Cottage | ||
| CF | You come down the stairs, shaking your head in bemusement. You half | ||
| CF | believed there would be a skeleton in the attic. You'll tell the poor | ||
| CF | lady that you've taken care of it, that everything is in hand, that | ||
| CF | she doesn't need to worry about anything regarding those bones. You | ||
| CF | open your mouth to tell her, but shut it because of Mrs. Lajway's | ||
| CF | stillness in the chair. Her mouth is hanging open, her eyes half open, | ||
| CF | slumped in the chair as no living thing should do. The box tumbles | ||
| CF | from her lap, spilling buttons to the ground. | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | You can see some buttons and a button box here. | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | There's little reason for you to stay any longer. You should get word | ||
| CF | to the doctor of Mrs. Lajway's death. | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | > | ||
| DavidW says (to ClubFloyd), "put bone in fire" | ||
| CF ] Cottage | ||
| CF | > | ||
| CF | > PUT BONE IN FIRE | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | You needn't burn anything. | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | > | ||
| Jacqueline says (to ClubFloyd), "check pulse" | ||
| CF ] Cottage | ||
| CF | > | ||
| CF | > CHECK PULSE | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | You can't see any such thing. | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | > | ||
| DavidW says (to ClubFloyd), "drop bone" | ||
| CF ] Cottage | ||
| CF | > | ||
| CF | > DROP BONE | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | Dropped. | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | There's little reason for you to stay any longer. You should get word | ||
| CF | to the doctor of Mrs. Lajway's death. | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | > | ||
| Jacqueline says (to ClubFloyd), "touch her" | ||
| CF ] Cottage | ||
| CF | > | ||
| CF | > TOUCH HER | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | There's no point, as the poor woman is dead. | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | > | ||
| DavidW says (to ClubFloyd), "x mrs" | ||
| CF ] Cottage | ||
| CF | > | ||
| CF | > X MRS | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | Her eyes glitter fixedly from behind half-closed lids. She is tilted | ||
| CF | awkwardly in the chair, her arms dangling limp. You bow your head and | ||
| CF | say a prayer for her soul. | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | There's little reason for you to stay any longer. You should get word | ||
| CF | to the doctor of Mrs. Lajway's death. | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | You feel a weight in your pocket. You slip your hand in and feel | ||
| CF | something small and thin. You pull it out and it's the finger bone. | ||
| CF | You frown at it. You swear you dropped this. | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | > | Jacqueline says, "Okay, okay, so she's dead." | |
| Roger says, "I think we need to bury it, maybe in the button box" | ||
| Jacqueline says, "Sure" | ||
| DavidW says (to ClubFloyd), "put bone in button box" | ||
| CF ] Cottage | ||
| CF | > | ||
| CF | > PUT BONE IN BUTTON BOX | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | You start to, but stop since there's no reason to do that. | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | > | Roger says, "or maybe hammer it to dust" | |
| DavidW says (to ClubFloyd), "hit bone with hammer" | ||
| CF ] Cottage | ||
| CF | > | ||
| CF | > HIT BONE WITH HAMMER | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | I only understood you as far as wanting to hit the bone. | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | > | ||
| DavidW says (to ClubFloyd), "hit bone" | ||
| CF ] Cottage | ||
| CF | > | ||
| CF | > HIT BONE | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | You're a minister, a man of peace. | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | There's little reason for you to stay any longer. You should get word | ||
| CF | to the doctor of Mrs. Lajway's death. | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | > | Jacqueline asks, "Do we know how to even find this doctor?" | |
| DavidW says, "oh yes." | ||
| DavidW says, "The doctor was the one who sent us here in the first place." | ||
| DavidW asks, "ready?" | ||
| Jacqueline says, "Sure." | ||
| DavidW says (to ClubFloyd), "e" | ||
| CF | > | ||
| CF | > E | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | You go to check on the old woman before leaving and she's so still. No | ||
| CF | breath. Face slack and dead. You make the sign of the cross on her | ||
| CF | brow. | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | There's no reason to stay. You say a prayer for the dead woman's soul | ||
| CF | and step out of the house into the night. You'll stop by the doctor's | ||
| CF | house and leave word that Mrs. Lajway has passed on. You shake your | ||
| CF | head, thinking of the strange hallucinations you had here. Was Mrs. | ||
| CF | Lajway a witch? Did she cause you to see those things by magic? Or was | ||
| CF | this a quiet breakdown, the death throes of your faith? The hole of | ||
| CF | doubt in you feels bigger yet shallower, as if something is there to | ||
| CF | believe in, but it's monstrous. You'll never tell anyone about what | ||
| CF | passed here. What would you say? What would people think? | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | PRESS ANY KEY | ||
| DavidW pushes the green 'space' button. | ||
| CF ] Cottage | ||
| CF | You go into the yard, which is bright with moonlight. The snow has | ||
| CF | stopped falling and the clouds have cleared. Quite enough light to | ||
| CF | ride back to the village. You retrieve your horse, mount him, and ride | ||
| CF | out to the road back to the village, between the woods and frozen | ||
| CF | lake. You pause for a moment, looking at the lovely, dark, deep woods, | ||
| CF | filling up with snow. The frozen lake sparkles. The moonlight is | ||
| CF | bright, but somehow it seems the darkest evening of the year. Your | ||
| CF | little horse shakes his head and jingles his harness bells in a | ||
| CF | questioning fashion and you pat his neck. The only other sound's the | ||
| CF | sweep of easy wind and-- wait. | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | From the treeline, a whispering like dry bones moving. You scan the | ||
| CF | trees, but nothing's there. The fragment of bone in your pocket burns | ||
| CF | cold. From behind you, a slight rattling, a scraping as of bony | ||
| CF | fingers on a chalky skull. You turn and see downy flakes brushing the | ||
| CF | branches, a white figure flickering in the woods, keeping pace with | ||
| CF | you. | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | You close your eyes, open them again, and you're alone. You nudge the | ||
| CF | horse into a trot back onto the well-travelled road to the village. | ||
| CF | You have promises to keep and miles to go before you sleep. | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | ***** The End ***** | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | Would you like to read the author's notes? > | Roger says, "reckon so" | |
| DavidW says (to ClubFloyd), "yes" | ||
| CF ] Cottage | ||
| CF | Would you like to read the author's notes? > | ||
| CF | > YES | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | This game was written in Inform 7 for the 2024 Ectocomp, and is based | ||
| CF | on multiple poems by Robert Frost (American, 1874-1963). The main | ||
| CF | story comes from The Witch of Coös, although I have altered | ||
| CF | the scenario significantly. I have mixed feelings about this poem, | ||
| CF | which isn't very good on multiple levels, but which is undeniably | ||
| CF | creepy and had some interesting subtext in it. For instance, it's | ||
| CF | heavily implied that the old woman in the poem had an affair with the | ||
| CF | dead man and this is why he's dead, which is about as close as Frost | ||
| CF | comes to frank sexuality except in his his poem Wind and Window | ||
| CF | Flower. I always felt the end of The Witch of Coös was | ||
| CF | one of the biggest letdowns in poetic denouements, so I hope I gave | ||
| CF | this story a better ending. | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | The deaths of June and Willy Lajway were drawn almost word-for-word | ||
| CF | from two terribly depressing poems: Out, Out, which details a | ||
| CF | boy's accidental death by a buzz saw, and Home Burial, which | ||
| CF | dramatizes a marital breakdown in communication after the death of a | ||
| CF | baby. Frost's poems generally have a pretty nice reputation, but | ||
| CF | that's a veneer over a lot of really dark stuff. | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | The game begins with snippets of The Road Not Taken and ends | ||
| CF | with snippets from Stopping by Woods On Snowy Evening, which | ||
| CF | are his two best-known poems. It made me really happy to twist these | ||
| CF | sweet poems into something darker. I stole lines here and there from | ||
| CF | many, many other poems: Ghost House, Love and a Question, | ||
| CF | Revelation, Mending Wall, Design, Putting In the Seed, The Hill Wife, | ||
| CF | Bereft, The Thatch, and others I just stole moods and themes | ||
| CF | from. I encourage you to read through Frost's poems | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | Thanks to my testers: AM Ruf, Drew Cook, Zed Lopez, Manonamora, and | ||
| CF | Tabitha. If any game is ever any good at all, it's because of | ||
| CF | playtesters who are so generous with their time and thoughts. | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | Thanks always to everyone at the intfiction.org forums, who so | ||
| CF | patiently answer questions. | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | The most love and thanks to my sweetheart Tom, who is always the best | ||
| CF | person I know. | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | And thanks to Robert Frost, who I hope would approve. | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | Amanda Walker | ||
| CF | October 2024 | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | PS-- If you find a bug or want to give me feedback, feel free to email | ||
| CF | me at beachwalkera@gmail.com | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | *** The End *** | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | | ||
| CF | Would you like to RESTART, RESTORE a saved game, QUIT or UNDO the last | ||
| CF | command? | ||
| CF | > | Jacqueline says, "Well, that was indeed good. Very worthwhile." | |
| DavidW says, "yay" | ||
| Roger says, "I didn't dislike it, but I think I liked the poem more. But it's been a good while since I've read it." | ||
| DavidW says, "I don't know the poems at all, so I can't judge." | ||
| Jacqueline says, "Well, this definitely gives it an edge I won't forget. The promise was left unspoken in the poem." | ||
| Jacqueline | [LINK] | ||
| Jacqueline | [LINK] | ||
| DavidW says, "ah, I see the 'dark and deep' in that first poem." | ||
| Jacqueline exclaims, "Thanks for driving, David!" | ||
| DavidW says, "you're welcome!" | ||
| DavidW says, "When I make my walkthrough for this, I should add links to the poems." | ||
| Jacqueline says, "Oh yeah, you definitely could." | ||
| DavidW says, "Thanks for the game, guys. I'm heading back to the lounge." | ||
| DavidW disappears through an invisible gap in the MUD. You think you may have heard the sounds of chatting before the gap closed again. | ||
| Roger disappears through an invisible gap in the MUD. You think you may have heard the sounds of chatting before the gap closed again. | Esrom says, "I'm pretty sure 'darkandeep' has a bug. When prompted to take her hand, there's the response 'You can't see that here'." | |
| Roger asks, "is TAKE HAND and/or TAKE HER any better?" | ||
| Esrom says, "No. Just gives a default response." | ||
| Roger says, "yep, sounds like a bug" | ||
