03-31-2021, 09:53:46 AM
Picture This.
You are invited to a party at an isolated mansion owned by a mysterious individual, on an island in a lake. Foolishly, you accept the invite to what will inevitably turn out to be a murder mystery. You get in your car and drive to the boat, which takes you to the island in the middle of the lake where the mansion sits. A storm is brewing, but you've driven four hours to get here, and you're not about to turn back now. The other guests have already arrived, and entered before you. You knock at the door.
...
You wait.
No one comes to open it. It's dead silent apart from the distant rumbles of thunder. The wind whips through the coniferous trees lining the island, further shattering the silence, before the air goes still again, and it is silent once more.
You knock again. Once more, no one comes to answer it. You, somewhat tentatively, open the door and step inside the dimly lit entryway.
Suddenly, lightning flashes, blinding you for a moment. When your vision clears, three identical wax sculptures of 21st president of the united states Chester Alan Arthur stand in a semicircle in front of you, their right hands raised, their index fingers extended, pointing directly at you. Their faces twisted with fury, their mouths agape with an unbridled rage. They begin to slide slowly towards you, whether by hidden mechanisms or because of evil spirits, it is impossible to tell, as an unholy wailing fills your ears. A many-voiced chant of "ARTH-UR ARTH-UR ARTH-UR" grows louder and louder, gradually drowning out the wailing as the wax sculptures continue their approach. The lightning flashes once more, the thunder booms, and the lights go out, but the chanting doesn't stop, and the sculptures continue to silently move towards you, their extended index fingers more accusatory than ever in the dark room. You try to flee, to move aside, but find you can't. The sculptures stop just out of your reach, all still pointing at you, and now completely surrounding you, leaving only the exit door behind you accessible, but as you turn to flee, you find the door locked. You bang and kick at it, try to force it, to no avail.
T H E R E I S N O E S C A P E.
You are invited to a party at an isolated mansion owned by a mysterious individual, on an island in a lake. Foolishly, you accept the invite to what will inevitably turn out to be a murder mystery. You get in your car and drive to the boat, which takes you to the island in the middle of the lake where the mansion sits. A storm is brewing, but you've driven four hours to get here, and you're not about to turn back now. The other guests have already arrived, and entered before you. You knock at the door.
...
You wait.
No one comes to open it. It's dead silent apart from the distant rumbles of thunder. The wind whips through the coniferous trees lining the island, further shattering the silence, before the air goes still again, and it is silent once more.
You knock again. Once more, no one comes to answer it. You, somewhat tentatively, open the door and step inside the dimly lit entryway.
Suddenly, lightning flashes, blinding you for a moment. When your vision clears, three identical wax sculptures of 21st president of the united states Chester Alan Arthur stand in a semicircle in front of you, their right hands raised, their index fingers extended, pointing directly at you. Their faces twisted with fury, their mouths agape with an unbridled rage. They begin to slide slowly towards you, whether by hidden mechanisms or because of evil spirits, it is impossible to tell, as an unholy wailing fills your ears. A many-voiced chant of "ARTH-UR ARTH-UR ARTH-UR" grows louder and louder, gradually drowning out the wailing as the wax sculptures continue their approach. The lightning flashes once more, the thunder booms, and the lights go out, but the chanting doesn't stop, and the sculptures continue to silently move towards you, their extended index fingers more accusatory than ever in the dark room. You try to flee, to move aside, but find you can't. The sculptures stop just out of your reach, all still pointing at you, and now completely surrounding you, leaving only the exit door behind you accessible, but as you turn to flee, you find the door locked. You bang and kick at it, try to force it, to no avail.
T H E R E I S N O E S C A P E.
I am the They who says it!