It's a bedroom. Or rather, a guestroom. A western styled guestroom with purple thorny vines covering everything, making it impossible to really engage with any of it except for one of the beds and the wardrobe closet. It's all so difficult to make out, but what's impossible to mistaken is that this room is for a specific purpose, a specific reason, and those vines are digging into the walls, the floor, anywhere they can get to take root there. Twisting, distorting things to suit their needs. They're growing in from the window where it's pitch black out, the rain pounding hard against the glass while the wind howls and shrieks. Staring out for too long, you can almost swear there is a pair of eyes staring back at you from the deepest of the night.

There's a thrill of horror down your spine because you know instinctively: <the witch is out there, watching, waiting, grinning madly wondering what you'll do.>

You also know instinctively: <there is a murderer coming for this room in particular, and if you do not hide, you will die>.


((You have 10 comments from each person (minus runner) to pick a place to hide. Do what you will within that time frame or perish :) ))