Tales from Castle Balderstone
by Ryan Veeder (2018)
Genres: Tales from Castle Balderstone

An anthology of terror, edited by Ryan Veeder.

action: %
response: ]  Corrigan Road

Good evening. My name is Ryan Veeder. It is my great pleasure, in this festive and frightening season, to welcome you to Castle Balderstone: America's legendary hotbed of horror, a treasure trove of the morose, macabre, and monstrous. Its crooked pinnacles slash blasphemously against ever-present clouds; its grim silhouette is a stain of absolute blackness in the midst of a black sky.

Each year, the greatest spookcrafters working in the English language assemble in Castle Balderstone's drafty halls to test their latest material on the only audience possessed of hearts so inured to terror as to withstand the absolute scariest stories—each other.

Tonight, you are my plus-one to this wedding of the weird and the wicked.

As we ascend the winding stairs of Castle Balderstone, the wind outside howls in warning, and the temperature drops until your teeth chatter in the cold—or is it in anticipation of the horrors you are about to witness?

We trudge through antique galleries, across musty hallways and down forgotten corridors. The occasional window offers no view of a friendly outside world, but only confirms what your aching legs and ragged breath have already predicted: that the labyrinthine architecture of Castle Balderstone is one you can never hope to escape. Nevertheless we step on, through another creaking door...

...And into a warm sitting-room, where velvet couches sit in a circle near a roaring fire. The walls are lined with bookshelves, stacked with titles you recognize as those you have never been brave enough to read. You recognize the occupants of the couches, as well: murder-mongers, evil-experts, ghost-gurus, monster-maestros, vampire-virtuosos, and dread-distributors. These are the infamous authors of Castle Balderstone, and you are their latest victim.

It appears that you and I are the last to arrive, and we take our seats in a conspicuous display of embarrassed hurriedness and loudly-whispered apologies. When the chamber is at last quiet, the first author rises to share with us the first tale of the evening.

It is Fiona Grice, well-known for the mysticism (and neuroticism) woven into her public persona, the better to lure unwitting readers into the worlds of darkness she so expertly crafts. Among friends, she is casual, irreverent, often self-deprecating. But on talk shows and social media, she shrouds herself in mystery, casting herself as a macabre new-age seer: a shaman of dread.

As she arranges her notes on the lectern, we all wait eagerly to see which Fiona has joined us this evening.

"Hello," she intones. "This story came to me in a dream—or, I should say, a nightmare."

I guess it's the talk show version. Why is she acting this way, in a place of safety, among like-minded fellow-authors?

Hmm. Maybe it's because you're here.

Fiona goes on: "When I awoke from my nightmare, I wrote it down, and I present it now exactly as I remember it. I don't know what, if anything, it means. Dreams are mysterious in this way." Okay, Fiona, let's get on with it.

"But dreams do not come to us with titles," she continues, "so I had to invent my own. The title that I gave to this dream is..."

A nightmare in three parts by Fiona Grice

Clouds were racing across the sky.

She had never ventured out this far, where the road had started to fall apart and disappear into dirt and new grass. But she had nothing better to do, and this at least was something new.

She thought she heard an ambulance's siren.
action: You listen
response: She strained her ears.

The sound was getting louder.
action: About yourself
response: She was dressed for a jog, but she had opted for an easy stroll instead.

The keening sound continued, coming from somewhere beyond the bushes.
action: You examine bushes
response: The bushes were thick, but she thought she could see a path between them to the east.

The high-pitched wail from the bushes to the east rose in intensity. It didn't sound like a siren. It sounded like a person.
action: You go east
response: She pushed a branch out of her way and trudged into the leaves.

She emerged in a ruined parking lot. On the east end was the entrance to a low building, its windows smashed, walls covered in ivy.

At first she thought it was a prison—then she realized it was the old hospital.

The screaming didn't stop. It was starting to ring in her ears.
action: You examine the hospital
response: The hospital had been abandoned for years. She wondered why it hadn't been torn down.

The scream seemed to activate something in her brainstem. Her heart was beating faster.
action: Go east
response: She pulled on the rusted door; it opened easily. She stepped inside.
She pulled on the rusted door; it opened easily. She stepped inside.The door swung shut behind her.
inside.The door swung shut behind her.The scream went on, over the sounds of wind and distant traffic.
sounds of wind and distant traffic.Then it stopped.
sounds of wind and distant traffic.Then it stopped.* * *

Caroline is kind of flaky sometimes, but she always calls the next day to make an excuse for not showing up. This time, she didn't call the next day, or the day after that. She's not at her house; she's not answering her phone.

Amy can't believe how clean Elle's place is, especially considering she wasn't expecting any visitors. Amy hasn't really talked to Elle since high school, but she's the one person Amy can think of who might know where Caroline ran off to.

The one messy area is around the crib, where any piece of baby equipment must be ready at a moment's notice.

Elle smiles at Amy politely. "So, what brings you here?" she asks, signaling that the pleasantries have concluded.
action: You examine Elle
response: In high school, Elle's hair was long enough to cause inconveniences and occasional accidents, and she was proud of it. Now it's cropped above her shoulders, and she looks like someone else.
action: You ask Elle about Caroline
response: "Well," Amy says, "I've been trying to get ahold of Caroline for a couple—"

Something stirs, and a low moan rises from the crib. Elle rises at once.

"Oh, Oliver," she coos. "What is it, darling?"

The baby has no response, and Elle shrugs and lets the matter lie.
action: You examine baby
response: Without getting too close, Amy can see most of Baby Oliver through the ribs of the crib: A standard big-headed baby like all other big-headed babies, notable only for an oddly pointed nose.
action: You ask Elle about Caroline
response: Amy coughs. "So, I was about to ask, if you knew what Caroline—"

Baby Oliver makes a little yelping sound, like an animal caught in a trap. Elle rushes to the crib.

"Ollie, oh, Ollie, Ollie, Ollie, Ollie, Ollie, Ollie, Ollie," she sings, lifting the baby onto her shoulder and walking him around the room. "There you go. There you go. There you go. There you go. Little Oliver."

After some more cooing and stroking, Little Oliver desists, and Elle returns him to the crib. "Poor thing," she murmurs.
action: Continue
response: Amy eyes the crib warily, and then she asks: "Elle, I can't find Caroline. Do you know where she is?"

Elle blinks. "I haven't talked to Caroline in a while. We used to go for jogs out on Corrigan Road, but then I got so busy with—"

Little Oliver screams a horrendous, earsplitting scream, a desperate, existential scream that makes no sense coming from a creature with no conception of heartbreak or failure or student loans. Amy winces.

Elle rushes to Oliver's side and begins cooing and patting, with no apparent effect. She turns to Amy with desperation in her eyes.

"Oh Amy, I'm sorry..."

"Don't worry about it," Amy says, and she rises to leave. And then to herself she mutters "Corrigan Road" as she makes for the door.
herself she mutters "Corrigan Road" as she makes for the door.* * *

This seems to be as far as the road goes before it stops being a road. There's been no sign of Caroline anywhere.

But in the bushes to the east, Amy sees a vague little opening, as if the branches have been pushed aside by someone passing through.
action: About yourself
response: Amy is a little unkempt. Her jacket is crumpled; her hair is a mess. She might be more distressed than she wants to admit.
action: Go east
response: Amy grimaces as she pushes her way through the foliage.

Amy finds herself in an old parking lot, outside a building she recognizes as the old hospital. Amy heard about kids sneaking around here, back in high school—kids more adventurous than Amy and her friends.

A light flickers on the other side of the hospital's rusty door.
action: Go east
response: (first opening the rusty door)

The lobby's carpet is streaked with mildew. All the furniture has been either looted or crushed into anonymous debris.

A fluorescent light flickers in the hallway to the east.
action: You go east
response: The hallway strobes in and out of washed-out existence as the fluorescent light flickers. Amy can't help but rub her eyes, making sure it's the light and not her own vision that's failing.

On the north side of the hall is a blue door; on the south side is a pink door. The corridor continues east and west.

A millipede scurries out of the darkness and stops in the middle of the hall.
action: You examine millipede
response: As if in response to Amy's attention, the millipede walks calmly away on its undulating, unnatural legs.
action: You listen
response: Amy holds still and listens.
action: Go south
response: (first opening the pink door)

A stained futon lies abandoned in what must be a squatter's former bedroom—or some teenager's love nest. Amy grits her teeth involuntarily.

The hallway is north.
action: Go north
response: The hallway strobes in and out of washed-out existence as the fluorescent light flickers.

On the north side of the hall is a blue door; on the south side is a pink door. The corridor continues east and west.
action: Go north
response: (first opening the blue door)
It seems to be locked.
action: You go east
response: A green stain has formed around a puddle that hasn't quite dried up all the way.

The hall turns from west to south here.
action: You examine the puddle
response: The size of the stain indicates the puddle used to be almost as big as the hallway is wide.
action: You go south
response: The hallway goes from north to south. To the east is a pink door; to the west is a blue door, and a graffito spraypainted on the wall.
action: You examine graffito
response: paint that dripped almost all the way down to the floor before it dried.
action: You go east
response: (first opening the pink door)
It seems to be locked.
action: Go south
response: The hallway turns from north to west here.

A rusty scalpel lies on the floor here.
action: You take it
response: Taken.
action: You go west
response: The hallway runs east and west. To the north is a blue door; to the south is a pink door.

The remains of a poster hang on the southern wall.
action: Examine poster
response: Most of the poster has been torn away. What remains is the profile of a woman, looking down in concern, and the word "YOU'RE."

Amy wonders what the poster wanted to say, and whether it was at all sincere.
action: Go south
response: Amy holds her breath, and wonders whether she could hear if someone were in the room ahead of her.

(first opening the pink door)

The shards of a broken jar lie scattered across the floor.

The hallway is north.
action: You examine jar
response: Amy leans down to look closely at the shards. There's a faint residue of the fluid that splashed across the floor where the jar broke. She can see it happen: It lands here, it shatters, and then something—something slippery—skids across the floor, and it stops right there.

But whatever was in the jar isn't here.
action: You go to the west
response: The hallway turns from east to north here.

Amy hears something.

A low wail, coming from—but it stops before she can determine the source of the sound.
action: You go north
response: The hallway from the south stops here.

To the west is a pink door. To the east is a blue door.
action: Go west
response: (first opening the pink door)
It seems to be locked.
action: You go east
response: (first opening the blue door)

It's dark in here.

As Amy's eyes adjust, she can make out rows of cribs for newborn babies. Empty cribs.

Then she hears the low wail again. It's coming from a crib at the other end of the room, in the darkest corner.
action: You examine the crib
response: In the crib is a crying baby.
action: You examine baby
response: It seems perfectly healthy, but it's crying softly all the same. Maybe it knows somehow that it's been abandoned.

Amy frowns. Who would do such a thing?

She looks around the room, but there's no one else there.
action: You take the Baby
response: Amy reaches down into the crib. She tries to remember the correct way to hold a baby.

It's lighter than she expected.

The baby quiets down in her arms, and as she raises its head to rest on her shoulder, it seems utterly content with its new situation. She pats it gently, she bobs it up and down.

Then it makes a noise.

Then it makes a noise."Oh, yeah," the baby grunts. "You sure know how to treat a baby."

to treat a baby."Amy pulls the thing off her shoulder, holds it at arm's length. It looks back at her with an unbabylike intelligence in its sleepy eyes.

its sleepy eyes."What's the matter, lady? I didn't say it was time to stop cuddling."

stop cuddling."Amy throws the baby across the room. Then she realizes what she's done, and she screams. But it's too late.

what she's done, and she screams. But it's too late.The baby collides with the wall. It pops like a balloon and disappears.

with the wall. It pops like a balloon and disappears.The lights come on in the maternity ward.

Amy is surrounded by rows of empty cribs. The hallway is west.

A steel key is lying on the floor.
action: You take it
response: Taken.
action: You examine the crib
response: The crib is empty.
action: You go to the west
response: The hallway from the south stops here.

To the west is a pink door. To the east is a blue door.
action: You unlock the blue door
response: What do you want to unlock the blue door with?
action: Go north
response: The hallway goes from north to south. To the east is a pink door; to the west is a blue door, and a graffito spraypainted on the wall.
action: You unlock the blue door with the key
response: She unlocks the blue door.
action: You go west
response: Amy opens the door. On the other side is a stairway, leading down into the hospital's basement.

"Caroline?" Amy calls down the stairs, but of course there's no answer.

She crosses the threshold and begins making her way downstairs.
She crosses the threshold and begins making her way downstairs.* * *

Amy descends from the last stair and steps in something wet. She winces.

She moves forward slowly, peering into the fog for any sign of another human being. Then she thinks she sees a shape up ahead.

The fog parts: The shape is only a pattern on peeling wallpaper.
action: You examine wallpaper
response: The pattern on the wallpaper is an endless series of cute little bunnies, hopping and cavorting. But the wallpaper is peeling away everywhere, revealing mildew-encrusted plaster beneath.
action: You take the wallpaper
response: That's hardly portable.
action: You cut the plaster
response: Cutting it up would achieve little.
action: Hop
response: She jumps on the spot.
action: You look
response: Amy looks around at the fog. She is alone in the hospital basement, with no frame of reference.
action: You check your inventory
response: She is carrying:
a steel key
a rusty scalpel
action: You look at the fog
response: Amy tries to wave the fog away, but she can only reveal the space immediately in front of her: On the floor, a trickle of filthy liquid snakes across the tiles.
action: You examine the liquid
response: A thin stream of brown liquid runs over the tiles until it reaches a drain in the middle of the room.

But then Amy follows the rivulet backwards, and she realizes it's coming from somewhere to the southeast.
action: Go southeast
response: Amy follows the trail of liquid out of the room, and out of the fog.

The ceiling seems very low in here.

A splintery playpen is set against the wall.

Next to the playpen, Caroline is sitting in a rocking chair, cradling something in her arms.
action: You look at Caroline
response: Caroline's eyes are half-closed, and her mouth is half-open in a dreamy smile. She has something cradled in her arms.
action: You examine the playpen
response: Amy looks at the playpen, barely still standing, and imagines a tiny monster shaking its bars and shrieking to be released.
action: You examine the ceiling
response: The ceiling is painted black—or maybe there is no ceiling.
action: You wake caroline
response: Amy approaches Caroline carefully, trying not to look at whatever she's holding.

"Caroline?" she whispers.

Caroline rouses herself slowly. Her eyes focus on Amy.

"I'm sorry," she says, her voice creaking.

Amy shakes her head. "It's okay, Caroline. Let's get out of here."

"I would have called—but I was so busy." Caroline shakes her head and looks down at the bundle in her arms. "I've been so busy lately..."

Amy takes another step and reaches out for Caroline's shoulder. Then a sound makes her stop: The sound of something tearing.
sound makes her stop: The sound of something tearing.A pudgy hand rises out of a hole in the bottom of the playpen.
rises out of a hole in the bottom of the playpen.The hand reaches over to grab Caroline, wrapping its fat fingers around her body. She offers no resistance.

"Sorry, Amy," she says.
"Sorry, Amy," she says.The hand pulls Caroline through the bottom of the playpen and disappears.
action: You look
response: The ceiling seems very low in here.

A splintery playpen is set against the wall.

Next to the playpen is an empty rocking chair.
action: You look in the playpen
response: A great black hole has been torn in the bottom of the playpen.
action: You examine hole
response: Amy peers into the hole.
action: You enter the hole
response: Amy hoists herself over the side of the playpen and climbs into the hole.

Amy is in a narrow vertical tunnel, pressing her arms and legs against the walls to keep from falling down.
action: Go downward
response: Amy carefully lowers her arm, and then her leg, then her other arm, inching her way down the tube.

But the tunnel widens unexpectedly—she falls—

Amy lands with a squelch. She groans as she picks herself up.

The hospital's cavernous sub-basement glows red and orange over hundreds of flickering candles. The walls and floor are coated with slime. To the west is a door labeled EMPLOYEES ONLY.

In the center of the chamber is a gigantic baby. It holds Caroline against its fat chest and eyes Amy lazily.
action: You examine baby
response: Amy looks up into the giant baby's giant face. Its cheeks are perfect globes; its eyes are huge and wet and inquisitive. Its nose is the slightest bit pointed.

"See anything you like?" asks the baby. It runs a pudgy hand over its smooth skin.

Amy averts her eyes. The floor near the baby is littered with bones.
action: You look at the slime
response: Amy looks around herself. Every surface is covered in slime. She even got some on herself.

She tries to wipe it off, with little success.
action: You look at Caroline
response: Caroline clings to the giant baby's chest, a satisfied smile on her face. She seems to be asleep.

She takes a deep breath, and as she exhales she coos, "My little angel..."
action: You look at the bones
response: Amy sees a skull, and a pelvis, but most of the bones are half-sunken in the slime and unrecognizable. How many other women have ended up like Caroline?
action: You take Caroline
response: Amy calls up to Caroline: "Caroline! It's me, Amy! Your friend!"

But the giant baby reaches down and puts a huge, fat finger over Amy's mouth. "She's not your friend anymore, lady. She's my mommy. But you'll be my mommy too, pretty soon. So just sit tight."
action: You ask the Baby about the nose
response: You can only do that to something animate.
action: Cut baby
response: Amy yells at the giant baby: "What are you doing with Caroline?"

The baby gawks at Amy a little, as if the question is unthinkably stupid. Then it says: "We're cuddling. We'll be cuddling for a good long while."

The baby's eyes bulge. It stares furiously into the middle distance, as if it just remembered something awful.

Then it burps, and the odor stings Amy's eyes.

The giant baby grins smugly. "Don't worry, lady. You'll get a turn."
action: Cut baby
response: "Give me back my friend!" Amy screams.

The giant baby rolls its giant eyes. It pats Caroline on the back, and she produces a contented sigh.
action: You hit the Baby
response: Amy hides the rusty scalpel behind her back and moves toward the giant baby. It looks down at her and smiles.

She raises the scalpel over her head and, before the hulking creature can react, she jabs the blade into its stomach.

The scalpel doesn't make a scratch. It bounces off of the baby's springy skin, flying out of Amy's hand and careening toward some dark corner of the chamber.

The giant baby blinks. "Huh," it says. "Nice try, I guess."
action: Inventory
response: She is carrying:
a steel key
action: Look around
response: The hospital's cavernous sub-basement glows red and orange over hundreds of flickering candles. The walls and floor are coated with slime. To the west is a door labeled EMPLOYEES ONLY.

In the center of the chamber is a gigantic baby. It holds Caroline against its fat chest and eyes Amy lazily.
action: Search bones
response: Amy moves toward the bones, but the giant baby swats her away.
action: You take candle
response: The candles are mostly melted into the floor, and the wax is too hot to touch.
action: You examine baby
response: Amy looks up into the giant baby's giant face. Its cheeks are perfect globes; its eyes are huge and wet and inquisitive. Its nose is the slightest bit pointed.
action: You examine Caroline
response: Caroline clings to the giant baby's chest, a satisfied smile on her face. She seems to be asleep."
action: Go west
response: (first opening the closet door)

The closet is cramped and dusty, lit only faintly by the candles to the east.

An old toolbox sits alone on the shelves.

A huge oxygen tank rests on the floor nearby.
action: You open the toolbox
response: She opens the toolbox, revealing a hefty wrench.
action: You take the wrench
response: Taken.
action: Examine tank
response: Amy looks over the oxygen tank. It looks like it could be a hundred years old. There used to be a safety warning painted on it, but most of the paint has chipped away. It's mounted on rickety wheels, so with some effort she could push it around.

The nozzle of the tank is secured with a hexagonal nut.
action: You unscrew the nut
response: Amy fixes the wrench around the tank nozzle, and then she leans on the tool until at last the thing turns the slightest bit. The nozzle begins hissing as oxygen escapes into the musty air.

Amy pulls up on the wrench, and the hissing stops. She peeks out from the closet at the giant baby, and her lips purse in a grim half-smile.
action: You unscrew the nut
response: Amy grits her teeth and tries to force the wrench onto the nozzle. She grunts, she puts her weight into it, and the wrench fits into place.

The giant baby looks over at her. "Hey! What do you think you're doing?" it whines.

Amy doesn't answer. She positions herself over the wrench, and she pushes it down until the screw gives way. Gas streams out of the nozzle.

Amy looks up at Caroline. The baby is squeezing her harder now, tensing its fat fingers in frustration. But Caroline's expression is blissful.

"Stop it!" the big baby cries. But it doesn't realize what's happening. It doesn't even try to stop her.

Amy grins up at the baby's stupid face. She pushes harder, opening the aperture wider, increasing the flow of oxygen into the room.
aperture wider, increasing the flow of oxygen into the room.An invisible finger of gas brushes against the flame atop one of the candles.
candles.A river of fire flows toward the oxygen tank.
action: You listen
response: You hear nothing unexpected.

It is pitch dark, and a cat is howling outside.
action: Inventory
response: You are carrying nothing.

It is pitch dark, and your life is meaningless.
action: You stand
response: But you aren't in anything at the moment.

It is pitch dark, and you are naked.
action: Go north
response: You can't go that way.

It is pitch dark, and a serial killer is on the loose.
action: You wake up
response: The dreadful truth is, this is not a dream.

It is pitch dark, and there is no way out.
action: Exit
response: But you aren't in anything at the moment.

It is pitch dark, or is it?
action: Go east
response: You can't go that way.

It is pitch dark, and something is touching your neck.
action: You touch yourself
response: You achieve nothing by this.

It is pitch dark, and there's nothing you can do about it.
action: You go south
response: You can't go that way.

It is pitch dark, and you are being eaten by a grue.
action: Smell
response: You smell nothing unexpected.

It is pitch dark, you stupid idiot.
action: You go to the west
response: You can't go that way.

It is pitch dark, but what else is new?
action: About yourself
response: You are bound and gagged.

She smiles at you. "Are you thinking about your past?"
action: You say NGGH
response: (to the woman)
You can only grunt through the gag in your mouth.

"I've learned how to forget things," she explains. "I won't remember all the details."
action: You examine the woman
response: Her skin is smooth and white. Her arms are long and lithe. Her dark eyes still glitter welcomingly, but it is too late to succumb or to resist.

"I won't remember you," she says.

For a moment you think you hear music.
action: You check your inventory
response: You are carrying nothing.

She looks up into the mist and lets go of the oars. "This is the place."
action: You look at the gag
response: You can't move.

She raises her hands and calls out to the fog: "O Great Nesphelet! I am Mergeis, your servant, your slave. In accordance with our contract I offer this sacrifice."

Tendrils of mist swirls around the boat. The waters shake, and a voice rises from the bottom of the lake:

The sacrifice is inadequate.

Mergeis stares blankly into the fog.
action: You wait
response: Time passes.

Then she finds her voice. "No!" she cries. "This is what you asked for! You can't change the terms now!"

My terms require the sacrifice of a virgin, the voice responds.

Mergeis is baffled for an instant—then she glares at you with insane fury.
action: You examine the mist
response: At times, the fog is so thick that you seem to be floating through a dark cloud. When the waters come into view, they reveal nothing.

"I was lied to!" Mergeis shrieks. "You must accept this one! You must honor our bargain!"

There can be no negotiation.

"No!" She reaches for you, clutches you with cold hands. She shoves you out of the boat, into the lake.

"You must—" she shouts into the mist, as you sink below the surface.

You are falling through the icy waters of the Grey Lake.
action: Go upwards
response: You struggle uselessly.

You can't hold your breath much longer.
action: Go downward
response: Your binds are too tight.

Your body overcomes your will—you try to inhale, and freezing water fills your nose and throat.
action: Wait
response: You let yourself go limp.

Your lungs are burning.
action: You wait awhile
response: You wait.

Finally you die.

Your lifeless body continues sinking to the bottom of the Grey Lake.

But something else floats in its place, going neither up nor down.

You are in the middle of grey, featureless water, without even a body.
action: Go upward
response: You float formlessly in the greyness of the Grey Lake. Above, the water is lighter; below, it grows darker.
action: Go downward
response: You are in the middle of grey, featureless water, without even a body.
action: Go downwards
response: The water is dark here. It's even darker below.

A slow, sombre tune floats past you.
action: Go downwards
response: A corpse has landed here, among the dirt and lake-weed.

But the slope of the lakebed leads even further down.
action: You look at the corpse
response: The body is intact; the fish haven't gotten to it yet. Its arms and legs are bound with strong rope, which will rot away long after the corpse does. Its mouth is gagged. Its face bears a resigned, maybe even weary expression.
action: Go downwards
response: At the bottom of the lake is a mountain. Atop the mountain sits Nesphelet, Un-god of the Grey Lake, playing his thorny harp.
action: You look at the nesphelet
response: The aspect of the Un-god is as hideous as it is colossal. His glassy skin is cracked and crumbling; his ragged wings beat slowly through the filthy water. His eyes are bulbous, enormous—

—and they look down at you in disgust.

Mergeis gained nothing by drowning you, he says. All the
same, you have fallen into my domain, and are now my subject. I doubt it's the afterlife you were looking forward to...

He loses interest, and resumes plucking his harp.
action: You look at the harp
response: Nesphelet's harp is carved from a branch of the Tree of Desire, and still bears its deadly thorns. Its hundreds of strings, stretched thin and tight over the spikes, are the souls of mortals (virgins) offered to the Un-god of the Grey Lake by his followers as payment for his favors.

As he plucks each string, it screams out for release, and in this way a melody of purest pain plays on and on.
action: You take the strings
response: Nesphelet would begrudge your interference.
action: You ask Nesphelet about the harp
response: Nesphelet bats the question away.
action: You go downwards
response: No light reaches into this cavern, at the bottom of the bottom of the lake.

A woman is here, waiting for you.
action: You look at the woman
response: She has the flowing hair and hungry eyes of a river sprite, but none of a river sprite's youth or beauty.

"You've been very unlucky," she says. "And not a little foolish, but that can't be helped. It's not too late, though."

She opens her hand: In her palm rests a smooth stone disk.

"With the fealglass you can ascend into the mortal world. Whoever gazes into it will take your place among the damned. Show it to some unlucky fool—" She laughs. "More unlucky, if not more foolish than yourself."

Without arms or hands, you can't take hold of the stone. But she passes it to you, and it becomes yours.
action: You ask the woman about herself
response: You cannot find the words—but she smiles reassuringly.
action: You go upwards
response: At the bottom of the lake is a mountain. Atop the mountain sits Nesphelet, Un-god of the Grey Lake, playing his thorny harp.
action: You show the fealglass to Nesphelet
response: The stone manages to engage the Un-god's attention. Ah. An
interesting toy, he says.

But that's all he says.
action: Go upwards
response: A corpse has landed here, among the dirt and lake-weed.

But the slope of the lakebed leads even further down.
action: You go upward
response: The water is dark here. It's even darker below.
action: Go upward
response: You are in the middle of grey, featureless water, without even a body.
action: Go upward
response: You float formlessly in the greyness of the Grey Lake. Above, the water is lighter; below, it grows darker.
action: Go up
response: Just above you, the water at the lake's surface glitters weakly in the meager sunlight. Below is the darkness of the Grey Lake.
action: Go upwards
response: The fealglass seems to pull you up. You can't resist; you float easily, like a bubble.

You emerge into misty air.

You are on the shore of the Grey Lake. Night has fallen.

But the moon sheds some light, and you're able to recognize the geography: The road back to town is northwest of here.

A pebbled path leads east around the lake.
action: You go to the east
response: You pass between the shore and the woods, on a path choked with weeds.

The road and the village are further west. To the east is a cottage that you think you recognize.
action: You examine the cottage
response: Someone is inside.
action: You go east
response: This is the cottage where Mergeis lured you, where she tied you up before forcing you into her dirty rowboat.

Mergeis is here, hunched over her cauldron.
action: You examine the cauldron
response: The water in the cauldron is as murky as that of the Grey Lake.

"Please," she whispers into the cauldron. "I need more time. I can give you a virgin. I just need more time."

The cauldron does not respond.

"If I wither away, I can't give you anything! Is it worth it to let me crumble and die? Wouldn't you rather let me live, and receive more sacrifices?"

All Mergeis sees in the cauldron is her own reflection. She covers her shriveled face with her hands and sobs.
action: You show the fealglass to Mergeis
response: You can almost feel your grip around the fealglass. With a thought you could pull it out into the air and make it visible. But is this the right place? The right person?
action: You look at what you're carrying with you
response: You are carrying:
a fealglass
action: You show the fealglass to Mergeis
response: Mist fills the cottage, and Mergeis looks up hopefully.

The fealglass materializes before her. She reaches for it desperately; she clutches the stone that she assumes is her salvation. She stares into its depths, waiting for a message from her master.

Her eyes go blank; the crone's body collapses on the earthen floor. Her soul howls as it exits the cottage, borne by irresistable magic to the bottom of the Grey Lake.

You crawl into the shell Mergeis left behind, as naturally as crawling into bed after a long day. You stand up, finally a being of both body and soul.

A voice comes from the cauldron: Very impressive. Very well
done, it says. But I'm afraid you may find this body somewhat
lacking.

A sudden pain in your new joints makes you hunch over, and you're forced to agree.

I can help, the voice goes on, but in return I'll require
something from you.

 Isn't she obviously old and frail at that point?"

Antonio looks through his notes. "Well, originally, I was going
to..."

He frowns.

"I think it's..."

The moderator glances around the room. "Are there any more questions?"

There are not.
action: Yes
response: That presents a problem. The efficacy of this exercise is predicated on your aversion to diving into blood. Fortunately, I have the equipment and expertise necessary to correct this.
action: You go west
response: You pass between the shore and the woods, on a path choked with weeds.

The road and the village are further west. To the east is a cottage that you recognize.
action: You go west
response: You are on the shore of the Grey Lake. The road back to town is northwest of here.

A pebbled path leads east around the lake.
action: Go northwest
response: This road leads west, to the village where you live—or, used to live. Southeast from here are the shores of the Grey Lake.

There's a man here, stumbling through the dark.
action: You examine man
response: It's a drunkard you know from town. He has no friends, no family. No one would miss him.
action: Go west
response: The streets are empty, except for faint fingers of mist gathering in the dark. The main road leads east, out of town.

Your old home is just north from here.
action: Go north
response: Everything is as you left it, but through a ghost's vision, your home seems odd and unfamiliar.

Your brother sits at the table, counting a stack of coins.
action: You examine brother
response: He can't see you.

His eyes are glittering. His lips move rapidly as he silently counts; then he pauses, to appreciate a particular coin, not as a number, but as as an object: Warm metal, a rigid edge, pressing hard against his fingers. Then he begins counting again.

Your brother begins mumbling to himself.

"Oh, Mergeis," he whispers, "How desperate you must have been, to accept my first offer! I would have agreed to so much less. Look: Here is the value of family."

He pushes a short stack of gold coins apart from the others.

"And here is the value of loyalty." He sets aside another handful.

"And this is the price of my reputation," he says, skimming a few coppers off the top. "I have to charge a little extra, since word might get around about my dealing with witches. But everything else!"

He closes his hands over the impressive pile that remains. "Pure profit! Or pure stupidity on your part, Mergeis."

He laughs—Then he glances around, embarrassed, hoping nobody heard him. But he doesn't see anybody.
action: You break the fealglass
response: You are incorporeal.
action: You drop the fealglass
response: That would be very stupid of you.
action: You show the fealglass to the brother
response: A cloud of mist forms around your brother, and the fealglass appears on the table. He leans over it with interest. Maybe it's something he missed—a piece of exotic currency.

But as he looks into the swirling pattern at the center of the disk, the avarice disappears from his eyes, leaving nothing behind. His body slumps forward, knocking piles of coins off the table and onto the floor.

Your brother's soul emits a quiet yelp of protest as it is pulled away to Nesphelet's domain beneath the Grey Lake. Meanwhile, you crawl into his body and begin tidying the stacks of coins that now belong to you.

 Why place all the blame on him, in the end?"

Antonio nods. "I wanted to expand on the archetype of the predatory female witch. The brother character represents another kind of evil, a masculine evil to complement the feminine version of classic fairy-stories. I wanted to show both halves of the evil equation, reflecting and magnifying each other."

I rub my forehead wearily.

The moderator glances around the room. "Are there any more questions?"

There are not.
There are not.Now it is time for the next author to step forward and share the next of the evening's delirious entertainments. It is Colin Michael Gustafson, well-known for his surreal, nightmarish visions, conjured from deep beneath the daylight realm of polite society, always presented with impish indelicacy.

Colin nods meekly and bows—and then sheds the veneer of modesty and reveals a brilliant grin. "I'm very proud of this one," he admits. "I believe it touches on the most basic anxieties in the deepest, most universal (and most uncomfortable) fundaments of our psychology."

"How very Jungian!" another author interjects. "The collective unconscious! The specter of the Shadow!"

"Precisely," Colin hisses. "But we're getting ahead of ourselves." He produces a sheaf of papers. "Allow me to begin..."

Don't Dive Into Blood, Kids
An experiment in psychological terror by Colin Michael Gustafson 

Before we begin, are you prepared to dive into blood?
action: Yes
response: That presents a problem. The efficacy of this exercise is predicated on your aversion to diving into blood. Fortunately, I have the equipment and expertise necessary to correct this.
Office
I am in a cold, sterile psychiatrist's office.

I can see a patient here.
action: About yourself
response: I am a cold, sterile psychiatrist.
action: You look at the patient
response: You are being very calm and quiet. Good for you.

I'm going to cut an incision—Not a physical incision in your head,
but
a metaphorical incision in your mind. The procedure is perfectly safe.
action: Inventory
response: I am carrying:
a scalpel
action: You examine the scalpel
response: A tiny little knife like this is perfect for a patient like you.
action: You cut the incision
response: With the utmost care and professionalism, I make a Y-shaped psychological incision in your mind. The metaphorical aperture is more than wide enough for me to enter.
action: You enter the incision
response: I carefully climb into the incision. I assure you there's no medical risk involved.

Now I am inside your mind. Don't worry; I'm a professional.

I poke through the components of your psyche for a moment before I find what I'm looking for: your willingness to dive into blood.
action: You examine the willingness
response: Your willingness to dive into blood is connected to the rest of your mind with some sort of psychic tendon.
action: You cut tendon
response: I draw my scalpel across the psychic tendon, and your willingness to dive into blood comes loose easily.
action: You take the willingness
response: I carefully remove your willingness to dive into blood. Now you should be more than adequately prepared for our little entertainment.
Pool of Blood
You're standing at the side of a pool. The Vein sits on a tall chair, making sure all the swimmers are safe.
action: You examine Vein
response: Clad in a Speedo and sunglasses, the Vein is the archetype of coolness. His muscular skin glistens like a coiled anaconda.
action: You look at the Pool
response: The pool is full of red blood. At the far end, a ladder leads up to a diving board.
action: You look at the board
response: Across the pool from the lifeguard's chair is a diving board with an attached ladder. The construction seems too tall to be safe, but maybe that's an optical illusion.
action: You ask Vein about the blood
response: The Vein tosses his capillaries majestically and grins. "Don't distract me, kid," he says. "I've got lives to save."
action: About yourself
response: You are a kid in basic swimming attire.
action: You climb the ladder
response: There is no running allowed at the pool of blood, so you walk slowly around its perimeter to the diving board.

Your arms are easily strong enough to bear you to the top of the ladder. What slows your progress is the knowledge that there is no turning back: When you get to the top of the ladder, the only way to get back down will be to dive into blood.

You are very high up.

The board wobbles beneath your feet.

Below you, far below, is the pool of blood.
action: You dive into the blood
response: You approach the edge of the board. The wind is cold on your skin.

From his chair at the far side of the pool, the Vein watches you dispassionately; there's nothing else to watch.

You are afraid, and you should be afraid, because this is a bad idea. Don't dive into blood, kids.

You leap forward and dive into the pool of blood.

Your tiny body takes forever to reach the surface.

The hot blood hits your skin all at once.

You sink into the deep end of the pool.

You flail helplessly into the blood.

You float back up to the surface.

"—IN THE POOL," the Vein is screaming. "THERE IS A WOLF IN THE POOL. EVERYBODY OUT OF THE POOL. EVERYBODY OUT OF THE POOL OF BLOOD."

The Vein scrabbles down the side of his tall chair and runs away.

You turn your head back and forth. You can't see the Wolf. Where could he be? Where can you hide?
action: You go outside
response: If there really is a Wolf in the pool, he'll gobble you up before you get very far.
action: You dive into the blood
response: You take a few deep breaths, inhale one last big gulp of air, screw your eyes shut, and dive into the blood.

Your force yourself to open your eyes.

The Wolf is at the bottom of the pool.
action: You examine Wolf
response: It turns out that the Wolf, the great Devourer, the archetype of inevitable destruction and lurking evil, was lurking at the bottom of the pool of blood. All along!

His mouth is wide open, a gaping, toothy entrance into pure blackness.
action: You dive into the blood
response: You're already in the blood.
action: You dive into the blackness
response: You swim deeper, deeper into the pool of blood. And then you dive into the beast's mouth.

You are now inside the Wolf's mind. Every aspect of his conscious, subconscious, and unconscious is open to you.

Obvious exits are WEST and NORTHEAST.
action: Go west
response: This chamber is dusty and disused.

Obvious exits are NORTH and EAST.
action: You go north
response: The studio is a picture of intentional, almost rehearsed disorder: A few papers have fallen on the floor; others are taped to the wall at uneven angles, but the attempt to create an atmosphere of chaos is not convincing.

The Wolf's current project rests on an easel, situated in front of a full-length mirror.

Obvious exits are NORTHEAST and SOUTH.
action: You examine the project
response: The canvas has been painted completely black, almost as if the Wolf simply poured a can of black paint over it. But you can see every brush stroke.
action: You examine the easel
response: On the easel rests a large canvas, the Wolf's latest artistic endeavor.
action: You examine papers
response: You peek at a random paper. On it is scribbled a reproduction of that optical illusion where it's a duck one way and a rabbit the other way.
action: You examine mirror
response: The mirror is about twice your height.
action: You examine papers
response: You peek at a random paper. On it is scrawled a few dozen squares, their uniformity decreasing as the Wolf got more and more bored of drawing squares.
action: You look at the papers
response: You peek at a random paper. On it is scribbled various rough drafts of a logo for "WOLF COLA," all of which insist on the two words sharing the same O and L.
action: You go to the north-east
response: In the darkened chambers at the back of the Wolf's mind are his fears and insecurities, his vulnerabilities, his self-loathing and his doubts.

Obvious exits are EAST and SOUTHWEST.

You can see an unresolved trauma here.
action: You examine the trauma
response: The content of the trauma isn't something we have time to investigate. Just remove it so you can get out of here.
action: You go east
response: This room is a little better-lit than the others.

Obvious exits are SOUTH and WEST.

There is a Wolf in a dress here.
action: You examine Wolf
response: The dress is blue with white polka dots and a white collar. It's the kind of thing a she-wolf would wear on the first day of third grade.

The Wolf's feminine side bats an eyelash at you. You smile politely.
action: Go south
response: Set into the wall of this chamber are four levers.

Obvious exits are NORTH and SOUTHWEST.
action: You examine the levers
response: You see a green lever, a red lever, a purple lever, and a blue lever.
action: You examine the green
response: It's just a lever, sticking out of the wall.
action: You ask Wolf about levers
response: "Where'd you get that dress?" you ask.

"I sewed it myself," the Wolf's feminine side admits—and then gushes: "It has pockets!"

You nod approvingly as the Wolf's feminine side demonstrates that the dress has pockets.
action: You ask Wolf about the mirror
response: "I like your lipstick," you say, not that your taste in lipstick is especially discerning.

"The better to smooch you with, my dear," says the Wolf's feminine side. A lump forms in your throat.
action: Go west
response: In the darkened chambers at the back of the Wolf's mind are his fears and insecurities, his vulnerabilities, his self-loathing and his doubts.

Obvious exits are EAST and SOUTHWEST.

You can see an unresolved trauma here.
action: You take the trauma
response: You pull on the unresolved trauma, but it won't budge. When you look a little closer, you see it's connected to the Wolf's mind by some sort of psychic tendon.
action: You cut tendon
response: You position the blades of your giant pair of scissors on either side of the psychic tendon, and then you snip, and the unresolved
trauma comes loose.
action: You check your inventory
response: You are carrying:
a giant pair of scissors
action: You take the trauma
response: You reach around the unresolved trauma. It is too large for someone of your size to hold easily, but you should be able to roll it away...

You hear something snorting behind you.

You turn around.

A huge, hairy creature looms over you. His snout is full of pointy yellow teeth. Is this the Wolf?

"Nope," says the monster. He snorts again, and leans down, way down, to meet your gaze.

"I'm the Wolf's dad."

You wake up in a cold sweat.

"

"I came up with most of it in the shower," says Colin.

The room full of authors rumbles in a general affirmation.

"But why the word 'kids?'" asks another author. "There seems to be only one kid in the story."

I elbow you and roll my eyes at the insipid question, but Colin answers in good faith: "Well, the title that came to me in the shower was 'Don't Dive Into Blood, Kids.' And I guess I didn't bother to change it."

"Don't overanalyze it!" someone calls out from the back, and the moderator is forced to hush everyone before things get too heated.

Now it is time for the next author to step forward—but, as I look around the room, I see that all of tonight's authors have already presented their stories! How time flies, when you're out of your mind with terror and suspense.

"So," I say, "which story was your favorite?"

Behind me, you can see the other authors leaning in, eager to hear your answer.
action: You look at the authors
response: Just as you're about to speak, a black wind rushes through the library—the fire is extinguished—and Castle Balderstone is plunged into darkness!