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This is your old home. The place where you ate, slept, played, all that jazz. You weren't the only inhabitant, at least for the first couple of years of your life. In that time, you were joined in this cabin by your grandfather.
But we already know this. What we don't know, is how he died. Some of the best doctors of all humanity and monsternity have attempted to answer that question. None of them, and I mean absolutely none of them know or can even begin to hypothesize an answer.
This has led some non-experts to suggest crazy conspiracies including, aliens, bigfoot, magic, government assassination, and worse, time travel. You don't subscribe to any of these conspiracies because, as it just so happens, YOUR ONLY FAMILY MEMBER (that you know) DIED, so you have some special connection to the victm. You aren't stupid, so you aren't going to fall into some blame-game trap where you start blaming everyone except yourself and start being paranoid about everything. You don't need that paranoia.
Besides that, the most interesting thing about this part of the room is your grandfather's old chair. He used to sit in the chair and read the newspaper or something akin to that. Then, in the evenings, he'd let you sit in his lap, and then he'd read you some adventure story with pictures, trying to gauge you by making a game out of it. When you'd get through a story, he'd ask you to pretend to be the protagonist, acting out something from that book. You'd then dress up and do that. He'd play along as the antagonist of the story, and try to give you a great foil for your role.
Granted, this was 10 or so years ago, but you remember it being very fun and you remember it being some of the best times from those cabin days.
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