[New and want to jump in? Please read the Instructions, but go ahead!]

Septimus kept his arm around Sweet, sighing as the light dismissed his panic fully. This time, when he spoke, his voice came out evenly. “Yeah, I wanna drop my stuff off first of all. It’s not heavy or anything but I don’t have to haul my laptop around, right?”

“Right,” Sweet agreed. He started to pull away.

“Where’re you going?” Septimus protested softly. “Haven’t said hello properly yet.” He tugged Sweet back, leaning in close as Sweet’s confusion changed to realization.

Septimus kissed Sweet gently, a soft brush of lips on lips, swallowing the hot gust of Sweet’s breath as his mouth opened slightly. Sweet was always a bit shy about kissing—not unwilling, never that. But he acted as though it was a surprise each time. As though, each time, he was never quite sure what to do with his mouth at first. Sweet had assured him before that he had no problem with it—that he liked kissing, and definitely didn’t want Septimus to stop doing it, and would like one right now, actually—but Septimus still liked to be gentle and careful about it, at least at first, to get Sweet past that first moment of surprise and shyness.

The kiss between them grew heated, Sweet’s teeth catching briefly at Septimus’s lip, a hot wet press of tongue tasting Septimus before he pulled back.

“Hi,” Septimus muttered.

“Hi,” Sweet said back, a little breathless. He drew a great lungful of air, then let it out slowly as his mouth found a smile again, eyes fixed on Septimus’s. “So. Let’s go drop off your stuff?”

“Let’s,” Septimus agreed. He swallowed, willing his heart to find its normal pace again, though this time for another reason. “Why don’t you show me around the house as you go? Looks old. 1920s maybe?”

Sweet shrugged a shoulder. “Thereabouts,” he said. “When it was built, anyway. It’s been kept up to date, though.” He pulled away, Septimus’s arm falling from around him.

And something shifted.

For a moment, Septimus couldn’t even register what was happening. It was like the floor had fallen away beneath him, like some great yawning maw had opened under his feet, gravity pulling him away as up became down and down became up and sideways became something else altogether, something impossible. He didn’t recall making any kind of sound, but he must have, because the world righted itself abruptly again around a point of connection, Sweet’s hand suddenly squeezing his.

“You okay?” Sweet asked, brows furrowed.

“Vertigo,” Septimus gasped. He drew a deep breath, and another, but the world had fully stopped spinning. Still, he found himself reluctant to let go of Sweet’s hand. “I’m okay now. Guess I’m hungrier than I realized.”

“We’ll get you something to eat once we’ve dropped your stuff off,” Sweet said, still concerned. “Think you can manage the stairs?”

Nodding, half to triple check that his sense of balance wasn’t going to desert him, Septimus said, “Yeah. I think I’ll be fine. Hope I’m not getting sick.”

“Hope so too,” Sweet said, and tugged him out of the room.

The laundry room led to an odd hallway, bent and crooked in a boxy S-shape, with several doors off it at its various bends. The strangeness of the design, along with the woodwork that spoke of a different age, did lend to a sense of creepiness, though how much of that was Septimus’s expectations was hard to say. Especially while still alarmed by what had just happened.

Sweet pointed as they went. “The open doorway at the end leads to the living room,” he said. “This door leads to the kitchen. There’s a dining room connected to both the living room and the kitchen on the other side, but there isn’t a table in it anymore so we’re going to eat in the kitchen itself. This door leads to the basement steps—don’t go down there, okay? It’s a mess and not really safe if you don’t know your way around, exposed wires and nails and stuff. Don’t want to have to drive a few hours to the hospital in the middle of the night.”

He couldn’t imagine wanting to go rooting around in a strange basement anyway. Though he did find himself curious to check out the rest of the house, open doors and see what little mementos of Sweet’s childhood might be around. A basketball in the front hall, or childhood photos on the walls—something like that. Maybe later, he concluded, when he’d got more settled. “Right,” Septimus said.

The certainty in his tone had earned him a grin. “And these are the stairs up. C’mon, I’ll spot you.”

Sweet kept hold of one of his hands, while Septimus held the wooden banister with the other. The lacquered wood steps creaked under him but were secure, and the vertigo didn’t return.

The hallway on the second floor was, thankfully, straight. “Bathroom’s there,” Sweet said, pointing. “The door at the end is the master bedroom. Mom doesn’t come back here any more so if you’d rather not share a bed with me, I can take that room. I don’t want to, uh, assume. You can stay in my room either way, though, it’s a lot more comfy. Let me know after you’ve had a chance to think about, I, you know, what you want.”

Septimus didn’t have a chance to respond to the stammered request, as Sweet had continued to lead him to his own bedroom door as he talked, then opened it, bringing him in. It looked clean and warm, the light already on. The window overlooked dark trees. There was a double bed, a closet with a few hangers though no clothes hanging in it, a bookshelf with just a couple of books sitting on it, and a dresser with an old mirror covered by a dust cloth. Though, Septimus noted, there didn’t seem to be any dust around, no cobwebs or spiders. He knew that Sweet lived two hours away in the city, but it looked like this place was kept ready to come back to at any time.

“Did you tell me to come separately so you could get here early and clean up?” Septimus demanded.

Grinning at him, Sweet gestured at the bed, a go on then gesture. “Unpack already. You can use my dresser or closet if you want, but since you only have a backpack with you, I can’t figure you’ll want to.” At that, Sweet pulled away, moving to sit at his desk chair.

As Sweet’s hand slipped from his, Septimus felt a moment of panic. But the vertigo didn’t reoccur, and he felt a little silly for thinking it might. Physical contact could hardly prevent dizziness.

To cover up his embarrassment, he dumped his backpack out on the bed, then slipped his phone into his pocket and hooked his flashlight onto his belt. Even with his phone’s flashlight function, it was better to be safe than sorry—especially given his dizzy spell earlier, he had no desire to be stuck in the dark if the power went out unexpectedly. Sweet’s eyebrows raised, but he nodded a moment later, like he’d made sense of the choice.

“Food now?” Sweet asked, when Septimus was done. “Do you need to rest up while I cook or will you be all right? I’ve got a variety of canned goods I can heat up for you. We will all dine like gourmets tonight.”

[Please suggest an action in the Comments]

[Instructions | Day 1 | Day 2 | Day 3 | Day 4 | Day 5 | Day 6 | Day 7 | Day 8 | Day 9 | Day 10 | Day 11 | Day 12 | Day 13 | Day 14 | Day 15 | Day 16 | Day 17 |  Day 18 | Day 19 | Day 20 | Day 21 | Day 22 | Day 23 | Day 24 | Day 25 | Conclusion | Author’s Notes]

[New and want to jump in? Please read the Instructions, but go ahead!]

Septimus sent Sweet back a confirmation. Then, while he still had his phone out, he texted Max (Maximus, because his parents had intended to stop at six, and at least didn’t have the poor taste to name a child Sextus. They had some sense, despite both being classical studies professors and too far up their own asses, even if they still hadn’t imagined any potential problems with naming their sixth son ‘Maximus Boon’). Max was the only of his brothers still in town with him, and had insisted that Septimus text him when he got there.

Max worried too much.

Still, Septimus confirmed that 🗸sent at 6:02 pm was displayed next to his quick note, then opened his backpack to drop his phone into it again. Inside were all the supplies he’d anticipated needing—a change of clothes, hairbrush, toothbrush, deodorant, wallet, keys, phone charger, laptop, and a flashlight. The last he had only brought at Sweet’s prompting. “The power can be a bit shaky sometimes,” Sweet had warned him. “I’ll bring candles and flashlights too but it can’t hurt to have one of your own in case it’s dark when you arrive.”

Sweet was the sort who thought ahead about things like that. They’d met in Septimus’s History of Film summer course, which Sweet wasn’t enrolled in but snuck in to sit in the back and watch old movies anyway. Septimus preferred the back too, and although they hadn’t exchanged words, since Sweet usually arrived after the room had gone dark, they’d gotten used to sitting together.

The ice broke during Un Chien Andalou. The prof had warned the class about the eye-slitting scene in advance, and that it was a real eye (though of a dead calf), and that he’d had people pass out before, so if they didn’t think they could take it, they should look away.

Septimus had thought he could take it.

He’d no sooner realized that he’d been wrong before Sweet had reached over, wrapping an arm around him and pulling him in, forcing Septimus’s face into his shoulder to block the view, so that he’d barely seen any of it. He’d let go of Septimus as soon as that was over with and went back to watching in silence, but Septimus thanked him after.

“I looked away myself and saw the look on your face,” Sweet had said, grinning. “I acted without thinking. Sorry for grabbing you, but sometimes we need other people to make decisions for us in the heat of the moment. I’m Sweet.” And then, at the look on Septimus’s face at the perceived self-compliment, “Damien Sweet.”

And now Sweet was probably inside heating the rooms up or something while Septimus dithered around in the cold outside. Decided, he zipped up his bag and slung it onto his shoulder. The driveway had widened in front of the house, hence why he’d parked there, but continued on a slightly narrower track around to the back. He hesitated at the front door for a moment longer, since it was obviously unlocked, but if Sweet had any initial trick in the Halloween trick or treat, it’d be set up here. Sweet wasn’t really a prankster, but he did like fun, and he had gone on about how creepy the place could be.

Septimus headed down the steps and walked further up the driveway to the back. There was a detached garage there, so Sweet must have parked inside. The rest of the house was isolated by trees, leaving no other way to go from here, and the back yard was more of a back gravel lot. Septimus debated bringing his car around, then decided to leave it where it was rather than risk the paint trying to get it back here.

He walked up the back stairs and tested the door; the knob on this, too, turned under his hand, opening into a dark room. From the dim light of the sunset behind him, he could see that it was some kind of laundry room, or maybe a storage room. He stepped forward—

—and let out a shout as something landed on his back from where it had launched off the washing machine to the right of the door. He flailed a hand out, elbow landing in the gut of the laughing, clinging figure.

“Oof!” Sweet gasped between snickers, and Septimus froze. “Sep, you gotta be careful not to hurt anyone in this house, okay? It’s old and creepy, who knows what might happen.”

“Very funny,” Septimus said, willing his heart to calm down. He reached out with his other arm and felt around until he found a light switch, turning it on and flooding the laundry room with light. Sweet was very close, and the sudden illumination reflected in his eyes endlessly for a moment like infinite stars.

Sweet leaned back, smiling. “I watched through the window as you snuck around back, and thought I’d surprise you before you could surprise me. Welcome to my childhood home. What do you want to do first? Drop your stuff off upstairs? Get some food into you?”

[Please suggest an action in the Comments]

[Instructions | Day 1 | Day 2 | Day 3 | Day 4 | Day 5 | Day 6 | Day 7 | Day 8 | Day 9 | Day 10 | Day 11 | Day 12 | Day 13 | Day 14 | Day 15 | Day 16 | Day 17 |  Day 18 | Day 19 | Day 20 | Day 21 | Day 22 | Day 23 | Day 24 | Day 25 | Conclusion | Author’s Notes]

[Please read the Instructions before jumping in.]

The wind blew a chill down the neck of Septimus’s thin jacket and he shuddered, pulling the collar higher. The scent of the air was rich with the smell of fallen leaves from the forest surrounding the hill. Not for the first time, he cast a glance back at his car in the long dirt driveway, thinking wistfully about getting back in and driving back to civilization.

He would have, if it had been anyone but Sweet who had invited him here. “It’s just a house my parents own,” he’d said, draping an arm around Septimus, his black eyes reflecting the lights from the Starbucks and seeming to glitter, “but it’s a weird old place, nice and creepy. It’ll be a great way to spend Halloween.”

Septimus’s preference for creepy on Halloween tended to fall more into watching bad movies and less into putting himself in any unnerving situation. Being fairly slim and only of average strength and skills, thinking about ways he might have to save his life—and protect the equally slim but much shorter Damien Sweet while he was at it—wasn’t a fun task, even in jest.

Still, he had to admit that the idea of a night alone with Sweet was pretty appealing, and there was a bit of a thrill in being creeped out. Besides, they might have only been dating for three months now, but Sweet seemed to be able to talk him into anything.

But even though he’d arrived right on time—6 pm, so at sunset—Sweet’s car still wasn’t in the driveway. Septimus shifted from foot to foot on the front porch, then checked his phone. He’d charged it before they came, and it was still at 100%.

There was a text from Sweet that hadn’t been there before: Got here early so I headed inside. 😉 Front door’s unlocked, come in whenever you’re here. 

He must have parked around back. Septimus sighed, relieved.

[Please suggest an action in the Comments]

[Instructions | Day 1 | Day 2 | Day 3 | Day 4 | Day 5 | Day 6 | Day 7 | Day 8 | Day 9 | Day 10 | Day 11 | Day 12 | Day 13 | Day 14 | Day 15 | Day 16 | Day 17 |  Day 18 | Day 19 | Day 20 | Day 21 | Day 22 | Day 23 | Day 24 | Day 25 | Conclusion | Author’s Notes]

D͟o̢̟̬ ̵͚͍̠̻y͎̝o̸u̗͙̺̖ ͇̯̬̤̞͍w̘̝͉a̡̞̥͔̱ṋ̠͉͓͈͙͢t̴̬͔͍̤̳ ̮̝̼̤̯̼̮͟t̰̺o͉̘͓̜̙̕ ̨̠p̪̘ḻ̮̞̣̘͎̭a̙͞y͙̬͉̥͈͡ ̮̺̻͇a͉ ̻̱̭͚̱̮͖g̻̞͙a̜̜̤̠̗͍̝͢m̥̝̖͈͔͝ḙ̜̖ ̨͔̯̱w͔̠̤̙͙͍͟ͅi̦̼̞͖͎͔̘t̪̭̘h̙͔̦̪́ͅͅ ̖̹m̥̝̫̻̜̰e̴̪̲̟̣?̜͓̻͕̱̲̟

What better way to celebrate Halloween with than a little bit of fun interactive fiction?

Here’s how it’ll work:

I’ve put up a post that’s the start to a story. In it, it describes a character and a situation that he’s found himself in.

You can reply to the post’s comments with a suggestion about what he can do next. Get your replies in by 6pm PST the next day. Then, between 6pm-9pm PST (approximately), I will put up the next part of the story, which will be based on your suggestions to the character. A new post will go up every day until Halloween.

Examples of what suggestions might look like: “Examine the mirror” or “break the vase” or “Don’t give up!! Think about your family!”

If contradictory actions are suggested by different people (“Break the vase” and “take the vase with you” can’t both be done), decisions on which to go with will be based on a) which gets more suggestions or b) which is more in line with the protagonist’s personality as established so far. ‘Think’ actions will usually never be contradictory and can include anything you want him to think about, with the exception of a) things he won’t know or b) if it’s in the middle of an action sequence since he might not want to stop and think about unrelated things right then. But in general, you can suggest whatever you want, even if it isn’t relevant. For example, “what do you look like, though?” could be a suggestion just as much as anything else—you’re welcome to use your comment to learn more about the character(s) as well as advance the story.

New people can jump in at any time, as long as they only reply to the newest post (since previous ones are ‘closed’). If you’re jumping in late, I suggest reading the previous parts just so you’re caught up on what’s been done so far, though.

Ready? If not, go ahead and ask me questions in the Comments. If so, let’s go to day 1.

[Instructions | Day 1 | Day 2 | Day 3 | Day 4 | Day 5 | Day 6 | Day 7 | Day 8 | Day 9 | Day 10 | Day 11 | Day 12 | Day 13 | Day 14 | Day 15 | Day 16 | Day 17 |  Day 18 | Day 19 | Day 20 | Day 21 | Day 22 | Day 23 | Day 24 | Day 25 | Conclusion | Author’s Notes]

(The small text: I reserve all rights to this work. If I eventually get this published in any form and need to take this down, I will send copies of this online version to everyone who contributed suggestions (if I am reasonably able to get in contact with them). )