HOME | DD

Description
You enter a small room whose door was surrounded by mirrors. Inside, the door is shut-- as if you had shut the door the instant you came in. But as a simple rule, you were stuck inside the moment you stepped in.

Now the floor is wet and there in the center is a creature unlike any you have seen before. She (for it is easy to see from the feeling it gives off that it is a she) beckons you to come forward, hands you an amulet, a tentacle-like wing-like pincher-like hand-like appendage placing it around your neck. The gloom and wetness of the room seem to clean up as soon as she does so and you hear a brilliant voice fill your head.

"I give you this now because I know what is to come. Tomorrow you will be spared among the human race. The world will be cleansed in a very efficient way and you must not be removed from it. Endure. Survive. Have joy."

And then you wake up. You can't remember how you got to that room whose doorway is framed in mirrors any better than you can remember if it's door was ever open after you entered. You simply wake in your bed, listening to the news.

Downstairs you hear your family frightened by the broadcast, and you can hear a sound coming from the sky. It sounds like birds chirping mixed with snapping, grunting, and the slip slip of fins all at once. It's a horrible, wonderful, disgusting, exciting sound. And much of it now is coming from the throats of your family members and from the windows of neighbors.

But you are in bed. What do you do?

Description
You enter a small room whose door was surrounded by mirrors. Inside, the door is shut-- as if you had shut the door the instant you came in. But as a simple rule, you were stuck inside the moment you stepped in.

Now the floor is wet and there in the center is a creature unlike any you have seen before. She (for it is easy to see from the feeling it gives off that it is a she) beckons you to come forward, hands you an amulet, a tentacle-like wing-like pincher-like hand-like appendage placing it around your neck. The gloom and wetness of the room seem to clean up as soon as she does so and you hear a brilliant voice fill your head.

"I give you this now because I know what is to come. Tomorrow you will be spared among the human race. The world will be cleansed in a very efficient way and you must not be removed from it. Endure. Survive. Have joy."

And then you wake up. You can't remember how you got to that room whose doorway is framed in mirrors any better than you can remember if it's door was ever open after you entered. You simply wake in your bed, listening to the news.

Downstairs you hear your family frightened by the broadcast, and you can hear a sound coming from the sky. It sounds like birds chirping mixed with snapping, grunting, and the slip slip of fins all at once. It's a horrible, wonderful, disgusting, exciting sound. And much of it now is coming from the throats of your family members and from the windows of neighbors.

But you are in bed. What do you do?