run down the hallway
. . . You run down the hallway, the puppy trailing behind, and, as
ominous laughter fills the air you run into the room on the right,
slamming the door shut behind you, and locking it firmly. You find
yourself in a kitchen, strewn with the grisly debris of human meals.
There is a stair leading down, a ladder leading up, and a window
across from you. You see a lamp sitting on a table. Behind you, you
hear the latch rattle. You . . .
