It is one week before Christmas, and a light snow is falling. You are walking home along Doldrum Drive, dodging the motorcycles and horse-drawn carriages. Normally you walk quickly, as you are very busy with matters of consequence, but today you pause outside the large and flammable mansion at Number Twenty-Four. The front door is partially open. A sense of mystique, or possibly indigestion, stirs within you: something you have not felt since you were thirteen, unless you currently are thirteen. The door whispers of rooms to explore, puzzles to solve, codes to crack, secrets to uncover. You are very tempted to go inside.
What would you like to do?