Looking down at the door, you see an etching of a suit of armour above the keyhole. The etching is surprising intricate and seems to be fairly new, although you begin to wonder why anyone would bother – especially given the dire condition of the rest of the door. Bracing yourself for disappointment, you turn the handle.
Surprisingly, the door is totally and completely unlocked. Not only that, the hinges also seem to have been oiled recently. Sliding the door open gently, you poke your head inside.
The room is dimly-lit and it smells strongly of candlewax and something that you sincerely hope is cat urine. Still, you can’t so much as see a single scratching post or litter tray anywhere. Seriously, there isn’t even one of those little plastic balls with holes in it that cats like to chase. The chances of a cat ever so much as seeing this room are, you realise, somewhere close to zero.
The walls are plastered with yellowed astrological charts and hastily scribbled notes in an arcane ancient dialect – or possibly a poor imitation of the average doctor’s handwriting, you can’t quite tell.
In one corner of the room, you see a robed man hunched over a desk that is overflowing with scraps of paper and old feathers. What do you want to do?
– To leave the man alone and return to the corridor CLICK HERE
– To say hello to him CLICK HERE