TINKLE, TINKLE

You go right.

You follow the curve of the hallway, and reach two doors, one of them unmarked. The second door has a hastily-scribbled paper sign stuck onto to it, and you move closer to read it.

Angus, it says, rather simply. You wonder what that means.

You trace the surface of the door, and have to repress the urge to knock on it to test whether it’s hollow.

Then something makes you freeze. You look up, down the hallway, and see an odd shadow against the wall, utterly still. It is tall and oval-shaped, like an unfinished pillar, or—you realise with sudden fear—like someone wearing a cloak. And what else could it be, but a monster?

The shadow moves slightly—is it coming towards you?—and you hear an odd clinking noise, like glass beads bumping against each other.

Then the shadow straightens up, looking even taller than before, and moves down the hallway away from you, an odd, dragging noise accompanying each step. The sound sends a shiver down your spine.

You wait until the sound has faded, then relax, slumped against the wall. But you can’t stay here forever.

What do you do?

* Follow the shadow.
* Turn back and take the left curve.

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