INDEX
ABOUT
FAQ
GLOSSARY
MBTI TYPINGS
MBTI RELATIONS
DISCORD
PHOTOS
STORIES
GENERAL
DIFFERENCES
TYPING
FUNCTIONS
TABLES
LISTS
WORKS
VARIOUS
NAMES
MORE
✸ A Mysterious Book Case (2001)
✸ Pedestrian Interchange (2003)
✸ Red Velvet (2004)
✸ A Story Without A Plot (2005)
✸ Survival Guide For Intrigue, Horror, Sci-Fi And Fantasy Movies, Like, In General (2008)
✸ Emily (2019)
John was the owner of a big bookshop called "Letter Waves". One Monday morning John found something really funny in the "Mystery" bookcase: the books were placed in alphabetical order. Normally there's no order at all in the shelves, but that day someone had made the effort to sort all the mysteries impeccably from A to Z, and it was no easy task, because we are talking about four hundred books or so. John was amazed.
He told everyone about the event, but no one seemed to be able to figure out who could have done such a thing. The next morning John found the books arranged in perfect chronological order. He could hardly believe it. That was even harder because whoever did it had to know the release date of every single book. Just like the previous day, there were no missing books and all of them were in perfect condition, so John thought it was some kind of joke and found himself wondering about the next move of the strange visitors. But he also called the police: the joke meant that someone unknown had access to the store. Police couldn't help him because there weren't signs of forced entry and there wasn't anything illegal going on. The customers and people from the neighborhood were all talking about the case. On Wednesday morning the mystery books were found in order of number of pages, from the shortest to the longest.
John was getting afraid. He decided to spend the night inside the bookshop and face the intruders. But he was tired and fell asleep. When he woke up early in the morning he immediately checked the mystery section. The order was different. This time John couldn't find any pattern at first sight. Later in the afternoon a customer called him and said there was a hidden message in the middle shelves (the rest were apparently disordered). You had to read only the first letter of each title. The mystery books said: "hello I can see you from the other side and let me tell you something you seem really sad the game is over".
There was once a gigantic city where millions of people lived. Inside they had everything they needed, that's why no one knew the outside. The idea that there might be something outside the city did not even cross their minds.
All citizens had the same rights and obligations. They all shared dreams and illusions. They felt part of a great community. They felt accepted and, ultimately, happy. People went walking everywhere. It was a pedestrian city.
The only street with traffic was the main street: a wide avenue that crossed the city right down the middle, in a straight line. It was a street with continuous circulation, very busy but, strangely, it did not belong to the city council. The vehicles that passed through it were all driven by foreigners, and they never stopped. Their appearance was very similar to that of the inhabitants of the metropolis, but they were not from there. No one really knew where they came from, or where they were going. And they didn't care either.
The main street divided the city in two zones: the light one and the dark one. The lighted part of the city was where everyone worked and played. There they ate and walked, met and talked. The dark zone was for rest, and was used exclusively for sleeping. The metropolis was always active, given the enormous diversity of schedules and occupations of its citizens.
At first, crossing the main street was not a problem, and people moved freely from one side to the other. But over time the traffic intensified, and crowds of pedestrians began to form on both sidewalks. You had to wait for a gap to appear between the vehicles to be able to cross. And that was a circumstance that little by little became more unusual, until there was no space to pass.
So one day the mayor called a group of scientists and told them to solve the problem, taking into account that they could not modify the structure of the street. They got to work and invented a machine called the Pedestrian Interchange. It was a floating sphere that glided along the main avenue exchanging people back and forth. Its operation was as follows: each time someone arrived at a sidewalk, the interchanger registered him or her, and as soon as another person arrived at the opposite sidewalk, the sphere emitted two beams of light, one towards each pedestrian, and switched their places in an instant. So people could cross the street as long as there was someone on the other side.
The machine was very efficient and did not cause any harmful effects. The only drawback was that the light beams had a limited range, and that always caused some delays, because the exchanger always followed the order of arrival of the people. But the underlying problem was solved, and with that the mayor was satisfied. People began to gather at certain points along the street to speed up the work of the interchange, avoiding useless displacements. This is how the crossings were born.
Everything went well for a while. But then the city kept growing, and the waits got longer and longer. People began to sleep less so they could spend more time in the light, sharing work and play with others. Little by little, this behavior became generalized, and soon the number of people waiting on the lighted side of the crossings began to decrease. They only returned when exhaustion overcame them. Everyone was looking for methods to maintain consciousness for extended periods of time. They also seemed to make better use of their sleep, and recovered more and more quickly from their days of hectic activity. After sleeping they had to face a long silent wait in the darkness of the night area.
There came a day when people decided they didn't want to go to sleep. Organized groups were formed and, using different strategies, many people managed to stay away from the sidewalk, resisting the temptation of sleep, for much longer than they initially thought they could. They talked among themselves about the activities that they carried out there, about how much fun they had, and thus they focused their attention on the day zone, gradually forgetting the other side of the city. The trick seemed to be related to fixing their thoughts on the various conscious actions and interactions they could perform in the work area. In this way, many were able to chain several consecutive days of activity.
But not everyone had the same stamina. Those who fell first experienced a sensation unknown to them until that moment, a feeling caused by the clear perception of a loss, by the appearance of an inexplicable inner emptiness, and the terrible certainty that they could never remedy it or recover that moment. That feeling was sadness. No one had ever felt it before. Many shed their first tears as they dragged themselves onto the main street. The exchanger then registered their arrival, and another person took their place. In the night area they could finally rest and forget their sorrows. Forget it all.
Over time more groups formed, and only a minority remained dispersed. The citizens began to develop a number of new emotions and feelings, unimaginable in the initial, perfect conception of the metropolis. People started comparing themselves to others. Envy and resentment were born. Selfishness was born.
And the power of those thoughts caused the night zone to slowly fade into darkness. The people in the bright area never again remembered what they felt in the dark part, and this scattered it into the air. They didn't want to see the interchanger either, so the machine also melted away forever, and extended its field of action to the entire city. When the artifact sent a person to rest, it seemed more like it made them disappear, although in reality they were still there, on the other side, waiting for their time to return.
Now it seems that only the day exists. The night is gone, they say it belongs to the world of dreams. Some claim that it never existed. Others say that it is around us, but that we do not see it.
The only certain thing is that, at some point, everyone talks about it.
THE END
"Remember that the new boss arrives today".
"Smith? Yes, I know that". Agent Cross answered without raising his head. "Some live the high life". He was working on one of those cases that would make anyone desperate. There were no witnesses, no one had reported the disappearance... and on top of that, it was a girl. At the orphanage she seemed to have been a ghost, because people barely remembered her. He had only been told that she used to spend hours in front of the television. Cross decided to go back there and check everything again, from the beginning. On his way out he passed someone at the door, but he didn't notice who it was.
"She really liked the movies on TV". That chubby boy said that he had spoken to her. "She was always talking about how beautiful they were, and all that". Well, at least it was something. The agent went out and took a walk down the street. A few meters down was a small, old-looking cinema.
"Yes, I think I've seen her". Said one of the ushers when he saw the photo. "It was Tuesday. She slipped past us and into the theater, but the movie had already started and I didn't think it was worth my while to look for her".
"Well, maybe you should have, don't you think?" The agent replied.
"That's nothing", said another of the attendants. "Two weeks ago he let a homeless man into the bathroom, and the guy somehow managed to watch the movie for free".
"Oh, right. Well, it's just that he was going to throw up there in the entrance, and it was better to let him pass before having to clean everything up. The guy was always around. He wouldn't stop complaining about how unfair life was. That's why he loved how well everything turned out in the movies. I haven't seen him since that day". Cross remembered that he had a pending case about a homeless person who disappeared around that same area. It was all beginning to sound like too much of a coincidence. He looked at the large red velvet curtains that hid the theater, as if they could give him some clue.
"What movie are you showing now?"
"We have been with Back To The Future all month".
"Hmm... It seems both chose a good title to sneak into, right?" The employees shrugged. "Just out of curiosity, do you mind if I take a look?"
"No problem, it started only five minutes ago". Silence is always deeper when you expect to hear something loud at the other side. When Cross pushed through the curtains he passed someone, but couldn't see who it was. He was back at the police station.
"Welcome, Mr. Smith".
I've seen books that say you can't start writing a story without a plot and characters. Ha. Just watch me.
This was a story that had no characters. She felt a bit excluded, because all the other stories had at least one character. She didn't. She was different. She felt half empty going down the street, because of course, without characters, one is little more than a ghost in the city of stories. She didn't have a plot either, but hey, that was something relatively common.
The fact of being different had caused her more than one setback. For example: others had "forgotten" to invite her to a few story parties. That behavior was quite understandable, because when they met they used to talk about their characters, how the plot progressed, etc. And no one wanted a guest who just came for tea. Those nights in the solitude of her apartment had been very sad for our story. That's why her look conveyed a certain bitterness.
On one occasion she was in the living room, stretched out on the sofa, with the lights off. She was really dejected, because she had not attended any meeting for a long time. She was beginning to think that her neighbors had definitely forgotten about her, and that they would never invite her again.
But then she heard a noise coming from the entrance. Someone had stuffed an envelope under the door, though she didn't know this. The story could hardly believe it. She was very surprised, and she thought that someone had arrived. She got up and ran like crazy towards the door, but she tripped on the carpet, and as she fell, she became entangled in a lamp cord and threw it into the air and it crashed against a painting that also fell, sinking into the fish tank, where the three blue fish began to swim at full speed, scared. She scrambled to her feet and lunged for the door, throwing it open. There was no one there, just a dog sniffing the grass. The story was greatly disappointed. She hadn't seen the envelope, ivory-colored, between her feet. But the dog had. He approached her slowly, with an innocent look, and seized the letter between his teeth. The story looked down, wide-eyed, and tried to snatch it away. But the puppy ran away, just in time.
The little dog crossed the garden and jumped between the bars of the small wooden gate that opened onto the street. The story followed as she yelled at him to stop. She opened the gate and looked both ways. The puppy had turned left, and he was further and further away. The story went after him. She tried not to lose sight of him, so when she tried to dodge a couple of stories that were walking along the sidewalk, she couldn't help but bump into them. One was showing the other a green vase that she had just bought at the corner store, but with the blow the vase crashed to the floor and shattered. The stories got very outraged and started running after our friend, who looked back for a moment and tried to apologize as best as she could, while still running.
The little dog crossed the street suddenly, and went towards the trees in the park. The story could barely kept up with him. As she crossed the street, almost without looking, she caused a car to brake so as not to run over her. Behind that car came another, and that one could not stop in time. It collided with the one who had stopped, and soon the drivers were outside yelling at each other. Then the owner of the green vase and her companion passed by, and the drivers (a script and a tale) joined them in pursuit.
Several dogs were playing in the park, and seeing a comrade pass by at such speed, they couldn't resist the urge to follow him. There were short stories walking them around, and some fell to the ground when their pet was thrown off. Our friend almost had a fit when she saw how the dog disappeared among the crowd that began to run next to him. They crossed the park like a horde, and the little dog went out into the street again and got on a bus full of theses that was about to drive off. The other dogs followed, and those behind quickened their pace, holding out their arms for the driver to let them up. He thought about it for a moment, and that was enough. There went our story, and the one with the vase, and her friend, and the short stories, and the script, and the tale.
The bus was rocking and everyone was screaming. The puppy slipped under the seats, while the theses faced the others, and their owners tried to recover them. Our friend was trying to apologize to the foursome that had gotten mad at her. She was explaining to them what had happened when she saw, in the middle of all the fuss, that the dog was no longer carrying the envelope in his mouth. She started looking everywhere, among all the barking, pushing, and screaming. Then she noticed an ivory-colored corner sticking out from under a suitcase. She dropped to the ground and grabbed the envelope. At that moment she smiled, forgetting all the problems. She basically had the whole bus against her, but she didn't care. She opened the envelope. It was an invitation to a party. What she wanted most in the world! The effort had been worth it. But then she realized that the time for the party was too close. Only five minutes left for it to start! If she didn't show up on time she'd look really bad to all the other stories.
She had to do something, and fast. She got up and looked at the bus, not listening to anything they were saying to her. She pushed through the crowd, coming up to the driver, who had stopped and was smoking a cigar. "I need to get to 37th Street in less than five minutes", she told him. "Sure, and I need a year's vacation, duh". "I'm serious", the story replied. "Me too". They looked at each other as if they had achieved some kind of mutual extrasensory understanding. The driver got up, opened the door and got off the bus, cigar in mouth and hands in pockets. The story sat behind the wheel and yelled: "Anyone who doesn't want a couple of lumps, get off right now!" The theses jumped out of the windows, and the bus became empty as it picked up speed.
Our story had never driven a bus, in fact she didn't even have a driver's license, but what she did have was a hell of a hurry. She put the foot to the floor and watched the cars do their best to get out of her way. She caused several minor accidents, knocked over a few signs and traffic lights, and also a trash can, but arrived on time. For some strange reason she arrived on time. She got off what was left of the bus, and knocked on the door. The hostess opened, a smile on her face. The smile disappeared when she saw the bus on fire, behind our friend. Then came a scream, and a frightened face, as a crowd of angry people began to emerge from the smoke, all heading towards the house. The hostess tucked the story inside and closed the door, just in time. Just before the impact. It was a reinforced door.
The other stories were waiting in the living room. The uproar coming from the street made it clear who would speak first that night. And she already had a protagonist.
Brilliant.
1. Never ever go into a place where you cannot see with your own eyes. If you have to use some handheld gadget, such as a flashlight, then it's a no.
2. Never ever separate a group of people. Not even the going-in-couples thing is safe enough. Everyone always goes together and always through the same places. That's it.
3. Bad vibes exist, and heeding them is vital to your survival. Sometimes you have a strange sensation, a kind of anguish, anxiety or uneasiness regarding a place, a person, an idea, etc. Never ever ignore that feeling. It always indicates that what's causing it is bad for you (and when I say 'bad' I mean 'deadly'). Either that or the writer is a real cheat, but in any case it's better to avoid anything that gives you a bad feeling.
4. Dogs growling and barking at other people are a clear hallmark of bad vibes. They perceive them even better than you. Avoid those people and ignore them. This rule does not apply if the owner of the dog or the dog itself have previously given you a bad feeling. In that case, avoid those.
5. As soon as the first bad vibes situation has occurred, you must eliminate all altruistic traces that you may have. Avoid doing good deeds for others, or else you may end up dead. Don't help any old lady cross the street, don't offer to fetch the beers, and don't try to save anyone's life, especially if it's someone you don't know. I would be careful even with saving someone you know, but hey, I'm not getting into that.
6. If you hear someone saying really strange things and (this is crucial) that person doesn't have bad vibes, you might want to, at least, take a moment to listen, even take notes. There might be clues to what you're going to find later in what they say, although they might require some deciphering.
7. Remember that running is not incompatible with turning.
8. Beauty is punished in horror movies. The greater the percentage that beauty represents in the set of your "good" characteristics, the greater the probability that something bad will happen to you (and when I say 'bad' I mean 'painful'). This does not mean that being ugly is going to save you (far from it), but let's say that it is a pretty reliable clue of how things are going to go for you. From the beginning of the bad events (we could say, perhaps, from the first moment of "bad vibes") your life expectancy will be directly proportional to how balanced beauty is with the rest of your other virtues. If the only good feature you have is beauty, then you will die soon. If you're, say, 50/50 with other good stuff, then you're probably one of the main characters, and that means you're going to suffer a lot. Survival is not guaranteed, but this balance will help you a lot when it comes to getting out of the whole thing alive.
9. The probability that a door will be closed is directly proportional to the speed with which you approach to open it. If you go very slowly then it will be directly proportional to the danger you think is hanging over you. The real danger has nothing to do with it.
10. If you prepare yourself in anticipation of a possible scare, you may not get it this time, but chances are that a few seconds later you will get a real one. This is almost a rule of scary movies.
11. If something weird happens in relation to electrical devices (for example if they start turning on by themselves), rest assured that it will continue to happen even if you cut off the power or remove the batteries. And if you try to destroy them all you won't be able to keep up, and that dodgy something will manage to come back. The solution is always in another direction, it is useless to destroy the medium.
12. If one morning when you wake up there is something that does not fit with respect to the previous day (too many deja-vù in a row, the same date on the calendar and so on), take pen and paper and make a grid. Put the days of the week on top and write down everything you know that has happened on each one of them. If there is some coherent way to fit all the events, perhaps you can anticipate what is going to happen, and take advantage of it to solve the situation. If there is any temporal inconsistency (such as a wound which was not there the day it should be) then you can give it all up, because the scriptwriter is going to screw you.
13. If you are convinced that you have traveled to the past, then be careful because in many cases everything you try to do to change things will fail, because a lot of these movies follow the idea of "immovable destiny". The idea that it's more dramatic to see how the protagonist goes through all the phases of the "time traveler" process until he tries to take advantage of his situation to change the future, and fails miserably. By the way: if your movie is a comedy then you might be in luck and be one of the this-actually-works cases, but don't get your hopes up.
14. If it suddenly turns out that zombies exist, remember everything you've seen in the movies and apply it: it will almost certainly come true, and it could save your life. If it seems that the rest of the characters don't remember anything, it's because in a movie you can't talk about other movies that are similar to it, but in reality everyone who has seen one of those movies will know what to do, and will be more likely to survive. Remember: it's practically impossible that you have never seen a zombie movie. We've all seen one. It can't be that in a world where zombies are real no one has ever seen one of those movies. Think about it. It makes no sense. Hell, it even makes more sense that there are zombies.
15. In general, I would recommend you use everything you might know about pop culture, geeky stuff, or whatever you want to call it. It's highly unlikely that yours is a truly original movie, so always go with what you know from the movies, comics, books, TV shows, etc. A good comic book collector nerd should be the typical survivor of all these dodgy movies.
16. Based on the above, there may come a time when you come up with some crazy explanation for all the strange things that are going on (and when I say 'crazy' I mean ghosts, magic, aliens, demons, impossible technology, etc). If you tell someone about it and that someone tells you that you need time to "think clearly again" or "come to your senses", then you can be sure that your idea, however crazy it may seem, is on the right track. And you can also wish luck to the disbeliever, because [s]he is risking it.
17. There might be a moment when someone is finally explaining the history and/or mechanics of the weird stuff: how it started, how it works, etc. That's basically an extension of this guide, but even better because it's about your particular movie, so, yeah. It's very important that everybody stays calm and waits until every little detail/rule/path/etc is completely clear (even if it's just to leave it as "unknown"). Getting emotional or bored or interrupting or jumping to conclusions or even just getting out of the room can be disastrous (and when I say 'disastrous' I mean 'fatal'). Phrases like "there's no time for this" are absolutely forbidden. In fact, add plenty of time for an extensive Q&A afterwards. And no bathroom breaks.
18. If nobody knows the alleged killer, it's probably not him/her. But be careful because maybe you simply bumped into each other on the street five years ago, or something trivial and forgettable like that (which somehow counts as "knowing"), and even if you didn't, now you do know him/her (yeah, it's tricky).
19. The bad guys never die. This is an inevitable and universal scary-movie-law. Never ever believe that you have defeated them, no matter how many bullets or blows they have received, because they will get up and appear where you least expect it to cut off your head. Don't let your guard down for a second. Not even after seeing the murderer's body burned to ashes. If necessary, wait until there is absolutely nothing left, avoid getting the ashes up your nose (or eyes, or ears, etc), and make sure that the fire does not cause some other problem. If you are still alive you have to assume that the bad guy has reincarnated or mentally transferred to another person, that there is more than one bad guy, or that the bad guy is actually you.
That's where the real fight is, right?
Stranger: So what do you see?
Mark: Fear. Fear of the place they are in. Fear of what is around them. Fear of being where they are. Fear of being what they are. Everybody is afraid, and they are all looking for ways to be somewhere else. To be somebody else. All in transit, so nobody’s at home. Some of them have never been there. They don’t know where they live. They have forgotten. Well, that’s what they are. Their home. They have forgotten what they are.
at the train station
Anna: I’m cold.
Vincent: I know, the heater needs some time.
Anna: Hey, who was that guy, do you know him?
Mark: No, he just started talking to me. I had never seen him before. I mean, I don’t remember him at all. But he seemed to know me. It was a little weird, yes.
Anna: What did he say?
Mark: He asked if I was on holiday, you know, the usual stuff. Then he must have noticed something because he mentioned exactly what I was thinking about.
Vincent: What.
Mark: That if you looked at it in a certain way, the people there were actually doing something wrong. Something they shouldn’t do.
five minutes later
Grace is sitting next to Mark, but she doesn’t take part in the conversation. She’s loading a new roll of film in her camera. She worries that she might be overexposing the pictures a bit too much. Maybe it’s a good idea to change the settings. The ones from the station are probably fine, though. Not so bright in there. Did she take one of the stranger? Hmm, no. At least not directly. She just saw him. He was slightly taller than Mark. Now she’s thinking. He was familiar, in a sense.
faster shutter speed
Emily: Hi, everyone! I’m so glad you made it! Such a beautiful snow, right? It’s all like that around here! Just for us! But you rented a really slow car, haha! What? I can’t hear you! I’ll go ahead and make sure everything is ready, ok? Lest you say I don’t take care of you! See you at the house!
two cars going north side by side on the road
Vincent: And there she goes with her brand new red sports car.
Anna: She’s right, though, you basically picked a bicycle.
Vincent: Hey, it’s not my fault, the other one was just plain broken.
Grace: It’s been so long since we last saw her.
Anna: She looks the same, I don’t know how she does it.
Mark: When was it, 3 years ago?
Vincent: 91, yes.
Grace: It was at that concert with the white piano. They brought out someone else for the last two songs.
snow interlude
After a few kilometres, the sky is clear again, but the black car has to stop: the road has become a trail, and it’s too narrow. It’s not because of the snow, it’s just that… there’s no more asphalt. The four friends get off and look around, astonished. They see pine trees ahead. There’s no trace of Emily’s car, or any other way for them to keep going. Anna, Vincent and Mark argue for a while. Then they all take some bags and suitcases from the trunk, and start walking. It’s around noon.
it shouldn't be much farther
Anna: This doesn’t make sense.
Vincent: Watch your step, Anna.
Anna: We must have taken the wrong turn.
Vincent: I told you, we didn’t pass any crossroads.
Mark: No buildings anywhere, either. Just open fields of snow.
Anna: Then where is she? And her car? How come she didn’t even warn us?
Mark: I know, that’s the part that doesn’t make sense.
Vincent: Come on, I think the house is somewhere behind these trees. We just go and see what we find.
Anna: I don’t understand… Ouch! And I don’t like this place.
Vincent: Don’t look at me, and be careful with the branches.
Anna: It’s not the branches.
a forest
Someone screams for help. It’s a woman, but they can’t see where she is. They just run towards the voice. It’s farther than it seems. But it doesn’t sound like Emily. Vincent gets there first: a small clearing, with a round hole in the ground. The woman is inside the hole, at least 4 meters deep. She’s middle-aged, and she’s wearing a rather old-fashioned black and white housekeeper uniform. She says she works at Emily’s house: she went out to pick up some wood, but fell inside the hole. She doesn’t seem hurt. Ignoring the strangeness of the situation, they try to find a way to help her out of there. The snow inside the hole is already above her ankles.
the maid
Vincent: Listen, we need a ladder to get you out. Where is the house?
Woman: It’s right there.
Vincent: Er… No, that’s where we came from, there’s only trees around here.
Woman: It’s right there! Please, hurry up!
Vincent: Just a moment.
Mark: What’s going on?
Vincent: I don’t know. But we can’t just wander around now, we need to find a fallen trunk or something.
Mark: Ok. I’ll take a look.
Anna: Don’t you think she’s a little weird? I mean, she keeps saying the same things over and over.
Mark: She must be in shock.
Anna: I asked for her name and she didn’t even seem to hear me.
Mark: Look!
Anna: Where? Wait!
this might take a while
An hour later, after a few false starts, and with the help of a trunk and some branches, they manage to get the woman out of the hole. She thanks them rather hastily, tries to clean herself a bit, and starts walking in the direction opposite of the one she indicated before. They follow her, quite disconcerted but also somewhat relieved. The clearing was not too far away from the trail, but now the distance is getting considerably big. There are no identifiable features here. Just pine trees, and snow. Finding the way back would definitely be a huge problem.
at least she's going in a straight line
Grace knows the events don’t fit. And the objects don’t fit, either. She can’t explain it, she just knows. She can tell the pictures won’t be there if she ever develops the film. They can’t be. Now the sun is setting, and the group reaches a new trail. This one is wider, and made of stone. After a while they get to a big clearing with a large white mansion in the center. Emily’s car is parked in front of the main door. They all smile. Anna screams and jumps. The maid starts running towards the house, but the rest are too tired to keep her pace. Grace notices the trees are even taller on the opposite side of the clearing. Right after passing the car she sees two red lights near the top of the pines. She hesitates for a moment, but her friends are already leaving the suitcases on the entrance hall, and it’s getting really cold out there. So she follows them.
the mansion
Someone’s playing the piano. The sound echoes through the wide corridors. Anna resists the urge to call out to Emily, and approaches a big room together with her three friends. There’s a black table with a small bouquet of flowers and what appears to be each one’s favorite dish. It’s not flashy or extravagant, just perfect. Emily is sitting at a white piano on the other side of the room. She looks back at them, and smiles. Then she vanishes in the air, but the song goes on. There’s a tremor outside, and then a stronger one, closer. A huge column made of something dark has rammed into the ground, next to the window. There’s a loud crackling sound and the roof of the mansion goes up and then down, crashing right to the floor. Then they wake up.
the dinner