Grab a Stuffed Animal

Credit: Ezioman

Your eyes sink shut, then immediately snap back open. It looks different here every night, but it’s always the same place. Hades. Hell. The Underworld. It’s a place that—legend has it—houses the dead, but you’ve never seen anyone else down there. That’s one of the worst parts. How alone you are.

Tonight, you’re in a house. It looks like it hasn’t been lived in for years—it’s probably never been lived in. Who would live in the Underworld? The room you’re in is rotting, decaying from the inside out like an old tooth. To move anywhere, you need to pick over floorboards that are rotting into the basement below. There’s a mildewed couch against one wall, facing a wall of peeling plaster and water stains. There’s no movement in the house besides the rise and fall of your chest as you breathe. The whole house is tensed, waiting, poised on the edge of motion.

There are two doors on the wall across the room. Both have faded, blistered paint. One door is ivory, the other a deep gray. Between the two is a small trapdoor in the floor, caked with dust. A lock that once held the door shut is rusting nearby.

What do you do?

Open the ivory door.
Open the gray door.
Open the trapdoor in the floor.

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