It's an old white colonial house. Five rooms: Living room, a bedroom, 
kitchen, attic, basement.

For some backstory, the house is 300 years old and has been abandoned 
since the early 1960s. It's surrounded by a wrought iron fence and the 
yard is thoroughly overgrown, making getting in and out of the house 
difficult. Most of the windows have been boarded up but one (which is 
how the player got in.) That window seemed a little strange - It 
clearly used to be boarded up, but the wood was splintered apart and 
on the ground outside. Part of the window's metal frame was twisted 
and bent outward, as if someone (or some THING) escaped. Despite the 
house's very dilapidated condition it is clear that in its heyday it 
was an exquisite home. The owners must have been extremely wealthy. 
The house has a deep and dark history. It has many secrets, which are 
not fully known (or even partially!)

Living Room
At one time the living room was likely a gorgeous focal point of the 
home, although now it appears as a macabre, dust-cloaked husk of what 
it once was. During its heyday the owners, friends and family would 
likely ensconce themselves in chairs made from hickory, ash and elm to 
discuss the day with intermittent sips of brandy.

Forebodingly, a claw footed coffee table is overturned at the center 
of the room, hinting at signs of what could have been a struggle. 
Archaic, floral printed wallpaper reaches from the wall in peeling 
strips and curtains hangs tattered, like overgrown fingernails. During 
daytime, sporadic slashes of light struggle to make their way through 
the overgrowth of flora and fauna outside. The daggers of light give 
way to the image of strange stains on the wall and rug near the 
overturned coffee table.

Bedroom
There is nary a piece of furniture in the quaintly sized bedroom save 
for a collapse bed framed by a rusted headboard. Broken glass from a 
now-unseen mirror is smattered over select parts of the hardwood floor 
like collections of fatal breadcrumbs. The sparse nature of the room 
lends focus to a large, stained butcher knife that lies near a cedar 
closet, as if to relay a warning to anyone who has found entry into 
the room. The stain caked on the blade has darkened to a deep, aged 
brown, resembling dried blood.

Kitchen
The first thing you notice is the decomposed block of wood next to the 
sink which looked as if it once served to hold variably sized 
knives--was the butcher knife from the bedroom once holstered here? 
Why was it removed and discarded in the bedroom? A fireplace is 
located perpendicularly from the dust-caked kitchen island. Bricks 
flank the fireplace's opening and yet another stain is splayed against 
the bricks, making the fireplace's curved mouth appear the a black, 
toothless scream. A confection of ashes occupy the fireplace, and a 
poker hangs out that may have once been used to expedite the flame's 
envelopment and stories and secrets.

Attic
The small attic with its low beams and triangular dimensions is made 
even more claustrophobic by its smorgasbord of haphazardly placed 
antiques, nicknacks, old photos and paintings. All these items are 
seemingly fixed in place by an overlay of cobwebs, some barely visible 
through the cottony blankets. Beneath one veil of cobwebs is a 
painting framed by chipped, faded gold. The painting shows a man and a 
woman (presumably husband and wife based on their disposition). The 
man is classically handsome with dark features and a smile that is 
contradicted by a sternly furrowed. Conversely, the woman is a 
delicate wisp of a person, containing the soft, dainty features of a 
fairy tale's ingenue, her eyes wide, cerulean and glimmering with 
something enthralling yet nondescript--fear? A leather bound diary 
with curled, yellowed pages is tucked almost invisibly behind one of 
the several boxes.

Basement
A precariously unstable collection of wooden slabs attempts to serve 
as a staicase leading to the basement. Each step on one of these slabs 
catalyzes an errant creek, a sound that could be synonymous with the 
muffled, terrified screams of a young woman. No windows or opening 
offering even a needlepoint of light. The beam of a flashlight is the 
only possible was to pervade the inky blackness that envelops the 
basement in obscurity. The absence of sight makes the dank smell of 
mildew and mold more pronounced, choking all other senses. In one 
area, a cement floor gives way to something more hollowed--a trap 
door. The trap door leads to a crawl space that holds a myriad of 
skeletal remains and tattered bits of paper.