| You awake in a cold
sweat. You are laying on the bed in the bedroom of Castle Terror.
Your trousers are hanging on a chair. The pockets have been emptied.
You realize the maid must have doped the coffee. And the part about being a mouse, ha ha, it was all a dream. Even so, you check the mirror. No whiskers. Good sign. Slowly you turn around and look at your backside. No tail. Also good. Let's just hope there are no Twilight Zone twists from here on out. You know, like waking up a second time to find out that you're still a mouse. That sort of thing. Yecch! But accepting that such ambiguity is part of the mortal lot in life, let us press on. You head north, to the Great Hall. You head west, to the kitchen. You head south, to a room which defies your powers of explanation.
|