[ As soon as you touch the beachball, you feel compelled to pick it up and undo the stopper that keeps the air inside. When you do so, a warm tepid breath blows across your face. Doooooownnnnnnnnn downnnnnnnnn downnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn A voice says, followed by the hiss of a snake and the soft sound of scales sliding across concrete. You are left with the impression that you shouldn't have done that. ]
[ The first door opens easily. You barely have to touch the handle before it swings forward. The room inside is small, but the walls and floor are made out of mirrors. The ceiling looks like an inverted fireplace, and coals drop ash like snow, and small flames lick downward to try and scorch your scalp. In the middle of the room is a bowl with what looks like liquid lead inside. Floating in the middle of the bowl is a cracked white knight off of a chessboard. There is nothing else inside. ]
[ You lift the chess piece out of the lead. Or try, anyway. The lead reaches up with molten tendrils and burns your flesh. If you hang onto the chess piece a tension in the room evaporates. If you let go, the piece sinks beneath the molten lead and a crack appears in the mirror on the fall wall. ]
[ This handle doesn't want to turn. You have to really push to get the door to open, and even then the door only opens a crack. If you peer through the crack in the door you see a long narrow room. The walls of the room are painted a ghastly chlorine gas yellow, and the floor is covered in long black chains. Buried under the chains is a white bishop chess piece. With the door open you can hear the voices now. They all say one thing, HUNGRY. ]
[ If you force the door open more, or even just bend down and begin to reel in the chairs, the bishop piece gets pulled along the floor. However, be aware that the voices don't just say they are hungry, they are actually hungry as well. Linger too long, keep the door open for too many seconds, and your flesh will begin to get stripped from the bone. It's hard to defend against an invisible knife. ]
[ The handle of this door is shaped like a snake. It doesn't take a genius to figure out what's behind. Upon opening this door you are faced with coil on coil of snakes. The room itself appears to be domed, or round and . . . looks like a young boy's bedroom. The walls are blue and the bed in the middle of the room is dark wood with red sheets. The snakes are everywhere, in the bed, on the floor, curled up on the dresser. A canary in a cage is sitting on the bed's pillow. ]
[The snakes are poisonous. But if you get past them, or tame them, and reach the birdcage the canary sings you a little song . . . and then promptly dies. When the bird dies, each snake begins to swell, before splitting at the head and shedding its skin -- as snake's do. The only difference is that these snakes also shed their bones and vomit up their organs, and leave behind mutilated corpses.
You could, of course, always simply reach over and open the cage door. Then the canary flies away and dissolves in mid-air, leaving only the snakes.]
[ This door doesn't have a handle, but as you approach the door slides open. On the inside the room is a very spacious lounge. A baby grand piano plays itself in the corner. There is a full bar, a sinfully red couch, a koi pond where all the fish are made of gold and the rocks are silver. A young boy -- who resembles Mukuro, but has a double part, two eyes of the same color and an innocent smile on his face, is sitting on a leather ottoman. At his feet is a small black dog and an even blacker cat. There are cloven marks in the carpet, but no goat to be found.
Hello, the boy says. Do you want a piece of cake? ]
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You could, of course, always simply reach over and open the cage door. Then the canary flies away and dissolves in mid-air, leaving only the snakes.]
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Hello, the boy says. Do you want a piece of cake? ]
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>> No, thank you
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