Candlelite

It is dark. You've gotten out of bed on a whim, and it must be midnight. So dark, though, you suppose the moon is covered by clouds. You've lived in this house for a while, and while you can walk the halls by memory, the shadows are much less frightening with a light. [[fetch a candle->candle 1]] [[follow your memory->dark 1]]

Digging around in and on your desk, you find a candle of suitable length and a couple matches. This should last you for a midnight romp, or more than. You fumble a few times, but get the candle lit. The flame flickers yellow light on the walls, not illuminating all, shadows still curling in the corners. But if anything comes at you, at least you'll see it. [[head into hall->candle hall]] [[climb out window->candle window]]

Sure, you can do this, whatever. How long have you lived in this house? Walk in the park. You're in your room. Shuffling around your bed to reach your door, you look up and down the hall outside. Where would you want to go at this hour? [[left-hand hall]] [[right-hand hall]]

Holding your light aloft, you head down the hall, warily glancing at the shadows. You pass by the windows. They're tall, and let in lots of sun during the day. Your whole home is surrounded on all sides by forest, an army of tall trees, branches bare and jagged in this season. Slowly, it occurs to you that, should anyone be in those woods, looking up at your house, they could see you and your candle through the window. Best to move on. [[sneak into study]] [[kick it in the kitchen]] [[head back->1]]

Why not? As head of the house, no one makes the rules but you. And you are making a new rule, one that mandates it's okay to climb out of windows. In your nightclothes, with bare feet and only holding a candle, you brace against the night wind, cupping the little flame with a hand. As guessed before, the sky is covered in clouds, blotting out all celestial lights. It feels as if your candle is the only light to be seen tonight. [[gallop to garden]] [[wander towards woods]]

This hall leads down to the library, the study, and the guest rooms. Lateness has made you melancholic, and these are good venues for brooding. As you walk down, you pass by the hall windows. They're tall, and let in lots of sun during the day. Your whole home is surrounded on all sides by forest, an army of tall trees, branches bare and jagged in this season. In the deepest dark of cloud-covered night, only their vague outlines can be glimpsed. It's eerie, like many tall men with sharp fingers staring down. Best to move on. [[first door]] [[second door]] [[end of hallway]]

This hall leads down to the kitchen, the mudroom, and the garden. Lateness has left you wanting, and there's nothing wrong with a midnight snack. As you walk down, you pass by the hall windows. They're tall, and let in lots of sun during the day. Your whole home is surrounded on all sides by forest, an army of tall trees, branches bare and jagged in this season. You remember playing many times in those woods as a child, but as an adult you feel an eerie uneasiness about those childhood recollections. You brushed death too many times back then, so many times you often suspect it more than coincidence. Best to move on. [[left door]] [[right door]] [[back door]]

You slip inside the study, side-stepping the endtable with practiced ease. The study has been untouched for quite some time, unneeded. One wall, behind the desk, is entirely bookshelves, not all filled but a substantial collection of big dusty tomes. You don't think you've yet to read a single one of them. The desk has it's chair pushed in closely, as if the one who worked here got up and would be back soon to pull it out. The papers on the desk, scarce, are uniformly stacked neatly. For ease of exploration, you set the candle on the desk. Don't worry, it'll be safe. [[browse books]] [[deface desk]] [[peruse plant]] [[leave->candle hall]]

The hanging doors swing as you enter the kitchen, peering around. You hold the candle aloft, to get the biggest radius of light possible. Of course, you already know what's in your kitchen. You're the one that stocks it and uses it every day. But it's better to see everything at once. There's a stove with counters, and a pantry, and a table. Your counters are cluttered, and it's high-time you cleaned them. But not now, not in the dead of night with only a candle. You're not entirely hungry, having eaten dinner like a responsible person, but cooking is soothing. Though, perhaps you don't wish to waste ingredients. [[scrutinize stove]] [[paw through pantry]] [[<->candle hall]]

You decide to steer your path towards the garden, hopping over the little picket fence that separates it from the wild. You remember many hot afternoons and many dewy mornings out here, dirt on your knees and hands, carefully handling little seeds and saplings. It felt inappropriate to do such work alone, so the garden has fallen a bit by the wayside. It's overgrown, and you have to take care as you step. It seems the carrots have flourished, and so has a large sprawl of lavender. [[eat a carrot->carrot]] [[smell the flowers]]

Careful to not catch your bare feet on any sharp rocks or burrs, you make your way down to the woods. Clutching your candle close to your chest, you stare as the flickering washes the familiar trees with menacing yellow. Your home is surrounded on all sides by a large sprawling forest, and in this autumn season, their branches are bare and sharp. These woods and the terror they generate are familiar to you, many times have you run these paths and dodged these branches in the past. Something snaps to your left, and you whirl. The radius of light from your candle is not large enough to help you see if it was just a deer or something more menacing. Something snaps to your right and you run. You run and run and run and run and fall. It's a small pit, but deep enough that you feel a break in your leg. You are alone and there is no one to hear your pained screaming. It is dark. [[BAD END->1]]

Taking the first door in the hallway, you enter the library. Having no windows, it is somehow even more horribly dark in here. But the library is generally pretty clean - just a couple bookshelves in uniform rows, nothing to really trip over. [[<->left-hand hall]] [[blindly select book]]

You take the second door you come across in this hallway, and find yourself in the study. Luckily, you've been in here enough times to not trip over anything. Unluckily, it hasn't been enough times that you have the room memorized. You know there's a desk, and probably a potted plant? Why are you even in here? [[trip over plant]] [[dive into desk]] [[leave->left-hand hall]]

At the end of the hallway is a bedroom, now a guest room. You suppose that every bedroom in this house besides yours is a guest room. [[<->left-hand hall]]

Creaking past the swinging door, you enter the kitchen. With your bare feet you can tell the floor in here is either wet or very cold, you can't seem to tell. There's no splashing, so that's a good sign. You know your own kitchen very well. Not only do you use this room for preparing food, but you often merely sit at the table, read something. It's relaxing. You wonder why. Trying to make a midnight snack in the dark may be dangerous, but maybe exciting. Or you could just look around. [[counters]] [[table]] [[pantry]] [[<->right-hand hall]]

You pull the heavy door and enter the mudroom of your house. You've become pretty aware that the mudroom was a later addition to your house, and the ones who ramshackled it onto the building had no idea how to cut out the back door and paste on the mudroom. So it's sort of off to the side, a weird other room that doesn't intercept the path of entry. Which is what a mudroom is made for, but okay. At least it has coatrungs. [[comb coatrack]] [[shuffle shoes]] [[<->right-hand hall]]

Deciding to get some fresh air, you find yourself in the garden. It seems your earlier suspicions were correct, and the sky is infact covered with clouds, blotting out any light. Seems you'll remain in the dark. It's been ages since you've been out to the garden, having abandoned it due to lack of time. It seems that some of the plants have survived, growing wildly in your absence, but in the blackness you can't tell what they are. [[grovel through garden]] [[<->right-hand hall]]

Kneeling in the rough loam of the garden, you smell the lavender, breathing in that familiar scent. You have to hold your candle carefully to not catch either your nightclothes or the flowers in the flame. It's hazy, and it makes you calm. A soft breeze rustles through the bare trees and tousels your hair affectionately. With the moon hidden, you feel you truly are alone, peacefully solitary laying in lavender, in a garden with a candle. The quietness relaxes your bones, uncurling your spine and clearing your head. The lavender reminds you of the tea you used to drink, before you abandoned the garden. You would come out here and pick some, then dry it, then steep it. It was a good drink to share with someone. ... There's a door, leading into the house, into the kitchen. [[kitchen->kick it in the kitchen]] [[woods->wander towards woods]]

Okay, you uproot one of the wild carrots and, without even brushing off the dirt, you crunch into it, breaking it in half with one bite. Obviously, this does not all fit it your mouth, but with smart chewing you manage to make it work. It doesn't even taste good. You weren't even hungry. I hope you feel good about this decision, because it was entirely pointless. [[<->gallop to garden]]

You cross the room to look at the bookshelves, passing a hand along a row of spines. Looking over them, you don't see a single one you've read, as you guessed. Out of 4 shelves, 3 are filled enough to be interesting. The bottom 2, and the very top. The 4th shelf only has a few books, spillage from the very full other shelves. [[bottom row]] [[middle row]] [[top row]] [[<->sneak into study]]

Pulling the chair out from it's nook under the desk, you sit in it. For a few moments, it's an eerie sensation. You're sitting here. You get to sit here now. This desk is yours, and no one else sits here but you. It's the truth, but it still feels off, wrong. Then the power overtakes you, and you lean back in the chair, arms behind your head and feet resting on the desk. Gravity yanks at you and you straighten quickly before falling. A sign from heaven to stop playing around? Probably just your own folly. [[peer at papers]] [[dig through drawers]] [[<->sneak into study]]

Yes, there is a plant in the study. It's very wilted, neglected. You don't come in here often, so it just doesn't cross your mind that there's something living in here, something to be cared for. You starved this plant. You monster. It's a big fern-like plant, leaves thick and wide, jaggedy lighter zig-zags decorating it. Not the most interesting plant, per-say. You look under every leaf, lift the pot off the ground, sift through the dirt. There is nothing of interest in or around this plant. [[...sniff?]] [[<->sneak into study]]

You sniff the plant. It smells like a slowly dying fern. To be expected. Did you just sniff the plant, expecting that to magically conjure some clue, or interesting tidbit? You did that? Or if not for those reasons, why did you do it? It's not like ferns smell very much. It was useless, congratulations. It is the dead of night, and you suspect you are quite tired, maybe going a bit mad from it. Maybe you should call it a night, go back to your room. [[bounce to bed]] [[i'm irresponsible and careless with my health->sneak into study]]

Taking the candle, you make your way back to your room. You go back down the hall, past the tall hall windows, past those terrible trees, and find yourself easily at your room. Blowing out your candle, you find it is suddenly terribly dark without it. Wow, aren't you glad you didn't stumble around without a candle? But it's easy to crawl into your bed, draw up your covers, and snuggle in. In the morning, you wake up to sunshine, and never feel the need to wander at night again. [[GOOD END->1]]

The drawer slides open easiy, unlocked. That's a bit weird, but negligible. The drawer is mainly full of boring paperwork, receipts and such. There wouldn't be much at all to be gleaned from poring over them, maybe just recalled memories - 'oh, I remember when that was bought'. All of the documents are in a uniform stack, save for one rolled piece of parchment. Could it be a letter? [[leaf through letter]]

You already know what all these are. The one at the bottom is the deed to this house. It's been signed into your name for a long time. On top are both wills. And on top of that is a short stack of tax receipts and bills, already paid. You don't quite feel like looking through this stuff again. You did it once, and that's enough for a lifetime. The last time you read through these is the last time you were in this room, and you'll keep it that way, thanks. [[<->deface desk]]

As the most visible row, this is a sort of "trophy shelf" - the most important, impressive books with easy-to-read spines rest here. This seems to be the run-of-the-mill stuff that a professional would have on his bookshelf - boring, but respectable. [['Accusations and You']] [['Finding Your Way: Claim the Life You Want']] [['Gaping Maw: How to Avoid Monetary Traps']] [[up one->top row]] [[down one->bottom row]]

This row contains books you're sure were only purchased because they were thick, heavy, and large. They're impressive, and he could say he read them, because they're on his shelf after all. All these books look like a bunch of nonsense. There's no way these have been touched since they were put up here. Ridiculous. You're here, though, so may as well look. [['DIY for Fools - Coffinmaking']] [['Hunger & Solitude: Psychology of the Shut-In']] [['Tome of Improbus']] [[different shelf->middle row]] [[back out->browse books]]

It's not addressed to you, but you can't make the excuse you aren't snooping around anyways, so you don't really care. //Dear Owner of Household, It appears you have taken your time with responding to our queries. We apologize that we did not make the urgency more palpable in our last missive. We hope it is now clear that haste is quite needed. Should you require, we will resend our presious missive, to remind you of what information we need, but would rather not have more copies out in the aether. We are running out of time, and should you neglect us again, we will be forced to refer to a less qualified candidate. We don't want to do that, we like you quite a lot, but you are forcing us. Once you have written your response to this letter, please burn it. Kind Regards, The Wellview// You've never heard of a "Wellview". You hope they aren't dangerous, but they sound quite polite. The question is, did he never reply, or did he neglect to burn it..? Feeling as if you've disturbed a ghost, you put the mysterious letter right back where you found it. [[<->deface desk]]

These books are... strange. They're so low to the ground that you don't tend to see them, and when you can you don't really, look at them. You have seen these books before, you just never read the spines, or thought about what they were for. It's weird that you never have, but maybe that was for the better, at the time. Because they're very weird, and it would've changed your entire perception of the man who worked in this study. [['Grubworms, Diets, and the Habits of Man']] [['Crafting With Hair']] [['Mutilation - the Benefits']] [[different shelf->middle row]] [[back out->browse books]]

This appears to be, not a cookbook, but a psychology book. There's a few blurbs from authors you don't know about how this tome is 'revolutionary'. You open it up, and read a random passage. //From the beginning of time, man has inherited all. All that this planet offers to us is at our disposal. Consider the grubworm. This species has no purpose, other than to ruin fields and become food for birds. But still they continue, and still survive to this day. The definition of the word diet is merely "the food you eat with regularity". The diet of the grubworm is roots - grass roots more accurately, and an infiltration of them can send a hay field to ruin. Hay farmers curse the existence of the grubworm. The diet of birds can include grubworms. So not only do grubworms destroy fields, they draw birds to the fields. A scarecrow is a fixture that imitates the appearance of a farmer in the field, hoping to scare off birds from eating the crops. But scarecrows don't work on grubworms. Will the bird heed the scarecrow, or become tempted by the grubworms? And what is the diet of a scarecrow?// [[<->bottom row]]

This book appears to contain techniques on how you can craft things out of hair, of all kinds. Hair sweaters, pants, teacozies... You open it up, and read a random passage. //When first told, people might perceive you as strange, but turn your nose up at them! Hairworking is a historical folk art, and you are carrying on a tradition. Any type of hair can work - human hair, dog hair, cat hair. The type of preparation depends merely on the length. If you already know how to craft hair yarn, skip this section. ''STEP 1 - Procure spinning wheel''// [[<->bottom row]]

This book appears to be about different types of mutilation. Yep, the title wasn't a joke. You're not a medical professional, but you're sure there's no benefits at all, and very little could possibly change that opinion. You open it up anyways, and read a random passage. //With all these new techniques under your belt, you're well on your way into the wide world of mutilation. For educational purposes, of course. Now, let's get into the real meat: what's the benefit? Since the dawn of man, people have been using pain and deformation to control. Look at Cain, who killed his brother to take his place as God's favorite. I'd call Cain the first mutilator. Mutilation is power. Mutilation is control. Mutilation is force. Mutilation is claiming the life you want, finding your own way in the world, carving hellfire until you get what you want. Tempting, isn't it? Luckily, painful deforming isn't the only way to mutilate. Let's talk categories.// [[<->bottom row]]

This book appears to be a guide on how to avoid conflict of any kind, up to and including a situation that would lead to your arrest. You open it up, and read a random passage. //'Well, author,' you say. 'If I'm really in real trouble, there's no way out of it, is there? If I did something wrong, they'll get me for it.' And you're right, dear reader. One day they will get you. But if you take my advice, you'll never get into that kind of trouble at all. You're not supposed to break laws, as I'm sure you're aware. Yes, this advice is applicable to any dire situation, but is written with the intent of getting you out of tense social situations - that barmaid ended up with child and she's yelling at you. Not legal - the police caught up with you and is writing you up. I'm not condoning crime, you understand? Now, onto the next chapter. ''CHAPTER 6 - SECURING ALIBIS''// [[<->middle row]]

This book appears to be some kind of life advice, or buisness advice, or religious advice. It's actually quite vague. You open it up, and read a random passage. //The key to success is not hope, or luck, or hard work. It is force. In this world, you take what you need, and you don't let go. No one will give you anything. Is there ever a time you were charitable and it ended up screwing you over? Fill in the blank: _____________________________________________ _____________________________________________ _____________________________________________ Remember that time. Picture it in your mind's eye. Remember how stupid you felt, and hold onto that feeling for the rest of your life. And that's how you get to the top, sitting on endless piles of riches.// [[<->middle row]]

The cover of this book is an illustraion of an open mouth, looking down into the throat. It makes you uneasy, and you almost shelve it right away. You open it up, and read a random passage. //You can't let debt consume you. Mindfulness is a virtue, when trying not to be snapped up by the maw of economics. Tax collectors are like sharks, just waiting below, for you to fall into their huge mouths with rows and rows of serrated teeth, to swallow you whole right down their gullet// You close the book immediately. Nope nope nope. [[<->middle row]]

The title doesn't lie, that's exactly what this book is about. Coffinmaking. If you weren't sure this book is for show, you'd be concerned. You open it up, and read a random passage. //With all these new carpentry techniques under your belt, you're well on your way to the big-times of coffinmaking. All the right ideas are there, we just need to put them in a new context. That new context being 'how to make a wood box to put in the ground'. You should never put a corpse in your first coffin, or even your first 5. You build a dummy coffin, then bury it to make sure you did it right. Once you've made a suitable coffin, you're ready to bury someone! Alright, first step - measure the body. Since you're not putting a real body in your first coffin, measure your own, and build a coffin that you would fit in.// [[<->top row]]

You're very unsure if this book is meant to draw a shut-in out, or turn someone into a shut-in. No matter the purpose, they could've chosen a more palatable title, surely. You open it up, and read a random passage. //At times, food is an amazing motivator. At other times, it is the opposite, even going so far as to sicken. The absence of food is the same way - great care must be taken, unless you wish for the detainee to fall into ill health. Of equal measure, you must take care with isolation. The detainee tends to sequester themselves, so a little attention is needed. But lessening visits, unscheduled and short, will make them eager to finally see you again. In this way, eventually they'll do as you tell them.// ...This book makes you feel strange. You slot it back into it's place, not wanting to look at it anymore. [[<->top row]]

You absolutely cannot discern what type of book this is from the cover. The title is written on the spine in gold, with a little image of a dagger, and the rest of the book is made of featureless black canvas. Only one way to find out. You open it up, and read a random passage. //The definitions of evil and good are so muddled and dependent upon personal interpretation that their use is completely null. There's no use for those concepts now in this world, and hasn't been for some time. Your journey will have you learn that morals have no place. We have crawled up from the Under, and fashioned ourselves as important, rather than the creatures we truly are. Everything is right, everything is just. All you must worry about is not alerting others to your activities. These next recipies require much more from you, even more eagerness than you have already dedicated.// You go to put the book back, but something solid shifts behind it. It makes a subtle scraping noise. [[<->top row]] [[push book aside]]

Feeling your way down the counter, the first thing you realize is that they're a mess. You really should've gotten around to cleaning, but time flies, or something like that. You've just been too tired, content to make yourself food and that be the end of it. You can't really tell what's on the counters with only your hands, and there's also the possiblity you might just grab the blade of a wayward knife in the darkness. There's probably nothing interesting anyways. But there is, embedded between the counters, a stove. [[stove]] [[<->left door]]

Placing your hands flat on the table, you lean over and stand there for a bit. You can't see a damn thing. You bend over the table to feel around for anything that could be on the table. There's some rags, haphazardly dropped here. There's a plate, maybe you think. There's a //knife oh crap, you touched the blade and maybe freak out a bit//. You didn't cut yourself, thank goodness. [[plonk at pew]] [[resume rooting->left door]]

You open the pantry, looking into pitch black. You're going to have to put your face right up to all the shelves to see a single thing. Great. There's a scarce amount of pasta on the bottom shelf. Next time you go to market, you'll have to get some. And there's rice, also. The second shelf up contains mostly leftovers, safely contained and stored. You could heat some of this up, that'd be easier. There's also some spices. The third shelf is home mainly to your soup ingredients, or just general ingredients, like beans, peas, lentils, stock, eggs, bread. In addition, there's oils, olive and vegetable. All the upper shelves have mainly nonconsumable things you store here, and ingredients you don't prefer to waste right now. Also, it's higher, and harder to see in this darkness, so you don't wanna bother with it. You take what you'd like, and move it out of the pantry. [[shift selections->left door]]

Set between the counters is your stove. You know your kitchen so well that you easily make your way over to it. It's a modest thing, it does what you need. Cooks food, is warm. Maybe a bit dirty, but, you'll get around to cleaning it. It's just easier to just cook and go. Anyhow. [[click it on]] [[<->counters]]

You take a book at random, and though you try to peer at the title in the dark, you just cannot recognize this book. Well, not all the books in this house were purchased by you, so perhaps this was someone else's. You can't see a purpose for this, and it's not like you can take it to a brighter place, because as of now that would be nowhere. Perhaps you can solve this mystery in the morning. [[continue capering]] [[renounce rummaging->left-hand hall]]

Moving the Tome of Improbus aside, you stand on the desk chair and hold up your candle to see inside the nook of the shelf. There appears to be a small panel-like spot, perhaps a button or covering, in the back, off-color from the rest. You've never seen this before, had no prior hint it was back here. Strange. You feel uneasy that your house hides secrets from you. [[probe panel]]

Reaching up, you push the panel inwards. It slides into the wall, receeding slightly, until you release it and it returns to it's original state. There's a shifting noise, and a bunch of //clunkclunkclunk//ing. You look down, and find that the bottom shelf has dissapeared, sinking to reveal a small crawl entrance. You feel sorta embarrassed you didn't know this was in your house. [[explore enclove]] [[<->browse books]]

Your stove appears to be in as much working order as it was this morning, albeit not turned on. [[<->kick it in the kitchen]]

Swinging open the door, you hold your candle high to cast light over the interior of your pantry and it's contents. [[<->kick it in the kitchen]]

You pluck the candle from the desk quickly, and crouch down to clamber down the secret passage in a study you left abandoned in the house you now own. This is fine. It's the height of the shelf plus the baseboard, which is about 2 feet, and then about 4 feet across. You do some maneuvering to hold the candle in such a way that it wouldn't tip over whillst you crawl. It's as small as it seemed, and you bonk your head an embarassing amount of times. It's pretty dusty, too, which is understandable, since no one's been down here for at least 4 or 5 months probably. [[forget this ever happened->browse books]] [[move forward]]

Okay, even though you clicked that option, that was NOT on purpose, you SWEAR. Stumbling around in the dark, you bang your knee right into the pot of this thing, nearly tipping the whole thing all over the floor. Heaving with relief, you hold the pot in place, making absolutely certain it won't spill it's dirt everywhere. It's good, we're cool. This was pointless and embarassing. [[<->second door]]

After doing a funny stumbly dance through the dark study, you nearly clothesline yourself with the desk, leaning over it. You find yourself extremely lucky to not have seriously hurt yourself so far, and really hope said luck doesn't run out any time soon. Feeling blindly on the desk, your fingers brush against some papers, and the ridges in the desk, and something that's probably a pen. You kneel down in front of the desk, and feel the front. Feels normal, smooth wood surface with decorations carved into it, lines swirling at- huh. This weird notch isn't part of the design. [[rifle through receipts]] [[crawl for clues]] [[<->second door]]

Thumbing through the loose papers on the desk, you idly wonder which ones these are. It's been a while since you've been in he- You recoil and drop the papers as you realize you're probably holding the death tax forms and wills. Wait. Okay, you can't read these in the dark, so these could be anything. These could be... the manuscript for a fantastic novel about unicorns. Yes. So it's fine. You pick them back up, straighten them as well as possible, then place them back on the desk. [[<->dive into desk]]

Clues? Really? There are no clues, this isn't a detective novella, this is your house and you already know everything that happened. Sure, you could go on a memory journey through your whole life's story, but you won't because that's dumb and it's midnight and it's dark. Anyways. While you're down here, you feel that strange notch in the desk. It's like a divot, or a dip. You scratch your fingernails into it, and find there's something to pry. A small door swings open, a dark hole you can't see into. [[totally stick your hand in that hole]] [[maybe let's not do that->dive into desk]]

It's not a long tunnel, and it soon starts to widen, opening into a little room just about your height. You can feel your hair brushing the ceiling. It's small, four even walls hidden within the walls of your house. There's a table, shelves nailed to the wall above it. How many times was he back here? How often would he hide in this strange alcove, hearing the goings-on in the hall on the other side? [[<->explore enclove]]

And by "pew" you mean table seat, and by "plonk" you mean seat yourself carefully and responsibly. Spreading your hands out on the table, you guess you're in to mess with some table stuff. You reach forward and drag the stuff nearer to you(careful to avoid the knife), and start sifting through it. [[ruffle rags]] [[delve dish]] [[<->left door]]

You brush your hands against the wall until you run into coats, blindly feeling them down. The first one is a raincoat, empty pockets. The second is a fur coat, with a crystal and a little sealed bottle of ink in one pocket. The third one is a heavy trenchcoat, with loose coins and a watch, scattered throughout several pockets. [[crystal and ink]] [[coins and watch]] [[<->right door]]

Stumbling around, you successfully don't impale yourself on any coat rungs, and sway on over to the shoes. You don't tend to keep your shoes back here, leaving them by the front door or in your room. So all the ones back here have been, for quite some time, unused. Doesn't mean there's not a tale behind them. There's a pair of rainboots, still unwashed and muddied. There's an old pair of dancing shoes. There's a pair of stilts leaning against the wall, slightly splintered from age and neglect. [[rainboots]] [[dancing]] [[stilts]] [[<->right door]]

Like some sort of truffle-scenting pig, you decide to get on all fours. You're getting the edges and knees of your nightclothes all dirty, but you also don't really care. Searching and sifting, you find that in your neglect, the garden has overgrown, foreign flora creeping across the untilled loam. Your lavender has flourished, overtaking a good corner of the garden. There's also quite a few little shoots of leaves poppinbg out of the earth, that you're not entirely sure what they may be, relying on your hands. [[hustle herbage]] [[linger with lavender]] [[<->back door]]

Only one life to live, right? Wait, you don't think this is the right context for that phrase... into the inky black you go anyways! So, no hidden scorpions bite off your hand. It's a bit while you paw around before you really touch anything. The hole is a small box, smooth walls in a perfect square. You brush the walls, find nothing, then pat the bottom. Paper, crinkling, soft and heavy. You pick it up, and withdraw an evelope [[examine envelope]]

Alright, you can't read any of these, but what else are you gonna do? You brush blindly across the spines of the crowded tomes that are slotted tightly in your full bookshelves. Half these books seldom have been read, purchased solely for the status of having a teeming gallery of big words. Maybe it's the dark playing tricks on your eyes, but you near the back of the library and, a shelf seems to have an imperceptibly luminous backing. You feel the spines here, trying to glean something from the texture. One is ridged, bumpy but smooth like snakeskin. One has a raised circle. One is smooth and shiny, with gilded edges. [[snake]] [[circle]] [[gild]] [[<->first door]]

Luckily, your stove has some fuel still, though it might be about time to get some more. The flame ignites and, having been in dark for so long, this little light actually kind of shocks your sight. The circle of fire is weak and blue, barely casting light, but it's a stark difference from the absolute black of before. You place your chosen ingredients on the counter beside, and retrieve the appropriate pan for what you're about to make. [[pasta]] [[bread eggs]] [[leftovers]] [[<->stove]]

The pile of rags is that, a pile, rumpled and haphazard. You start stacking them for easier searching, though still unfolded. You find a key, simple and small. You find an old sandwich, stale but not yet decaying. You can't decipher much more in the gloaming, unfortunately. [[key]] [[sandwich]] [[<->plonk at pew]]

You slide the bumpy, snakelike book from the luminescent shelf. Being in the obscuring duskyness, normally you'd be incapable of gleaning the text, but the scant illumination allows you to see some of it, through squinting. //Deceivers will come...................... ..........nothing of this world....has..... and.....end.........light.................. ..........cast over all, but............... ....choose......yourself....having strength ...and take your own road,// What kind of book is this? [[forget this ever happened->first door]] [[look again->continue capering]] [[measure up mantle]]

You slide the book with a raised circle from the luminescent shelf. Being in the dire gloaming, normally you'd be incapable of gleaning the text, but the scant illumination allows you to see some of it, through squinting. //Through all things....................... ............tell the......and.............. ....with....trees.......communion.......... all can be....found,...in the consciousness ...look, see through.......breathe......... .......none other.......all as one.// What kind of book is this? [[forget this ever happened->first door]] [[look again->continue capering]] [[measure up mantle]]

You slide the gilded book from the luminescent shelf. Being in the abstruse inkyness, normally you'd be incapable of gleaning the text, but the scant illumination allows you to see some of it, through squinting. //Rejoice for the heart is something wayward... .....no harm shall........fall................. ...........in the horrible dark, you........... shall have mercy on your fellows..........is... .....nothing other than........................ and your prayers will follow// What kind of book is this? [[forget this ever happened->first door]] [[look again->continue capering]] [[measure up mantle]]

There's a dish stacked with objects on the table, and you pull it towards you. There is a little box. [[<->plonk at pew]]

You withdraw the crystal and little bottle of ink from the fur coat, and they clink together in your grip. [[<->comb coatrack]]

You retrieve the coins from the many pockets they're located in, and cup them in your hands with the watch. [[<->comb coatrack]]

You had taken the pasta from the pantry. Now that you're here, prepared and at the stove, you're not sure why. You know that making this pasta will take far too much time. You know that this meal will be far too large for you alone. You don't know what you're doing. But hey! Pasta! You fill the pot and set it on the stove, dimming the already scarce light. You set it to simmer and wait around for it to be done. Waiting is boring, but you do it and you cook it up, straining the hot hot water away from the bowtie noodles. Scooping it into a bowl, you slather it with sauce, and you have your meal. Now, you're an adult and can eat wherever you want. [[dine in your digs]] [[munch in the mulch]] [[<->stove]]

You had taken your leftovers, planning to just heat them up. Why waste energy when you're already pushing your limit? Besides, it should be eaten, before it goes bad. [[dine in your digs]] [[munch in the mulch]] [[<->stove]]

Placing a flat pan on the stove, you crack an egg on the counter and aim as best you can. You hope the egg didn't splatter all over, but you can't see. Oh, this place is going to be a disaster area come morning, isn't it. [[dine in your digs]] [[munch in the mulch]] [[<->stove]]

Now sated from a night full of gallivanting, you shuffle off to your room. You head back on down the hall, past the tall yawning windows, past those dark unclear trees, past those multitudinous doors, and find yourself easily at your room. Shuffling across the floor, you flop into your bed and wrap yourself in the sheets, snuggling tightly, suddenly extremely fatigued. The last thought you cohere before dozing off is, you're glad you found your way back in the dark. You slumber, and dream of light. [[GOOD END->1]]

You decide to take your meal to your room. After all, you're responsible, and it's not like anyone will have to deal with a spill in your chambers other than yourself. [[slumber->shuffle to sleep]] [[venture->dark 1]]

You decide to take your meal to the garden, and eat in the soothing night air.

Oh //god// it's so dark in here but you wanna read this right now immediately. You remember the candle in your room and have a little freak out, suddenly regretful and panicking over this mystery note. You rip it open and hold it up to your face, nose touching the parchment. It's written in loopy elegant curive, which makes it even harder to read, but you're so dedicated. //You know I it's been several // [[<->crawl for clues]]

Pulling at the ground, you feel a need to determine what exactly is growing out here. A good idea, though perhaps a job for the morning. But you won't hear any of it, you're doing this here and now and your curiosity must be sated. Uprooting themysterious growth, it takes you a moment to identify it. A tuft of grass shooting from the top, it appears to be some kind of tube - no, feeling it down, it tapers to a point, becoming a cone. There are ridges down it, little roots sprouting off the sides. Oh. This must be a carrot. [[<->grovel through garden]]

The lavender... you remember planting this. It was so long ago. You didn't do it alone. So it's strange to recall this at a time when you are entirely so. Painful, even. Soft gloved hands assisting your smaller ones, the sweat of the sun and the stink of the fertilizer. It was the last thing you planted that day, and it was like a treat, a reward for hard work. You looked forward to seeing it grow, excited to make lavender tea out of it. Looking down at the loam in the sffocating darkness, you idly linger on these thoughts for only a little longer. No harm can come of remembering, only discomfort. The clouds in the sky shift slightly, and you look up. A thinner cloud has passed over the moon, giving the bare forest a subtle glow. You kneel in the dirt, feeling called, interpreting some message. [[claw at compost]] [[float towards forest]] [[<->grovel through garden]]

Fishing out the key, [[<->table]]

The sandwich is so stale that the bread has become sharp, pricking at your palms. You don't know quite why you picked up this excuse for former food, nonetheless with bare hands. You can imagine the conidments congealed inside their wheaty cage, toppings sweltering around them. Oh, god, you get weird after midnight, don't you. [[<->table]]

Like a compulsion, you rip at the ground, digging as furious as a dog remembering his bone. Well. That analogy is uncomfortably too close. It's unpleasant to remember things that you tried to keep from yourself. [[<->linger with lavender]]

Drawing yourself up, you find yourself inexplicably drawn towards the woods. On all sides, your home is ensconced by bowing bare branches of tall trees, ethereal in spring and haunting in fall. It is now fall, and in the gloom the woods strike the figure of many sharp knives jutting out and into the sky. Your mind is a blank as you approach, trying to conjure up any thoughts, anything at all, as you enter the threshold of the woods. [[glide through the grove]] [[<->linger with lavender]]

Double-click this passage to edit it. [[<->shuffle shoes]]

''This game is unfinished, and in beta. You can still play it, but there are very few endings, and you may find yourself at a dead end. Updates are sporadic, but frequent. Regardless, thanks for checking out Candlelit. Enjoy your journey, wherever it may lead.'' [[PLAY ON->1]]

Double-click this passage to edit it.