Don’t Play This Game: Event 2: The Stranger
I wasn’t expecting a visitor.
No buzz on the intercom. No parcels. Just three sharp knocks on the front door, steady and deliberate.
I peeked through the spyhole.
Tall figure. Long coat. Face just out of view from the angle, but standing unnervingly still. When I didn’t say anything, they spoke first.
They used my name. My full name. Not the one on bills. Not the one I go by online. The name written in the front of the book.
They said they needed to talk. About the Cabin.
I cracked the door. “How the hell did you get into the building?” I asked.
They smiled. Didn’t answer. Just said again that we shouldn’t talk out here.
I hesitated—then let them in.
They didn’t look like anyone I’d met before, though something about them felt… overly familiar. Like seeing a face from a dream you’ve almost forgotten. They were handsome in that strangely symmetrical, uncanny sort of way. Expensive shoes. Old raincoat. Their voice sounded like the kind of advert you want to believe.
I moved the clothes horse draped in damp t-shirts and brightly coloured underwear into the kitchen, then cleared away some sketchbooks off the sofa and gestured for them to sit. They did, but carefully, like the room itself made them nervous.
I moved to my other sofa, picked up The Book, and sat down myself.
Then they looked right at me and said, “The Cabin is dangerous. Not the place—yet. The key. The connection.”
They said it was drawing attention. That the Entity watches the strongest threads in the web, and the key was thrumming like a beacon.
That… tracks. Margerie never talked about owning a cabin. Neither did Nan, if she knew, she would’ve mentioned it at least once to me.
The stranger told me I had to destroy it. The key. That doing so would sever one of the links the Entity had already started pulling taut.
I agreed. Because honestly, that key has been giving off the wrong kind of energy since it showed up.
They pulled a handful of strange items from a side bag. Bits of wood, string, something like salt but darker. They arranged it all into a small pattern on my coffee table and motioned for me to place the key in the centre.
The moment it hit the surface, the key twitched. Like it didn’t want to be there.
The ritual was simple, almost too simple—burn the twine, anoint the key, recite a phrase I couldn’t remember even seconds after saying it. I watched as the key blackened, cracked, and finally crumbled into soot.
The room got colder. Not drastically, but enough to feel like a window had opened somewhere I couldn’t see.
I asked if that was it. They nodded. Said they’d return if I needed them. But just before leaving, they turned to me and added, “Don’t tell anyone about this visit. Especially not your brother.”
And then they were gone.
No footsteps in the hall. No sound of the flat door. Just gone.
DON'T PLAY THIS GAME is a Solo TTRPG
