The sound of drizzling rain and the scent of wood smoke were the first things that met Amy’s senses. Groggily, she rolled over on the hard wood floor, her body cushioned only by a musty-smelling, moth-eaten Persian rug. Her skirt rustled as she moved and she brushed her hand over the smooth silk. She lifted her head and tried to look around but the pounding in her head was so intense that she laid back down where she was and tried to get the best view of where she was from that angle. She could barely see anything through the dim moonlight that streamed through the window, but she found herself to be lying in some sort of small, Victorian-looking bedroom. Her mind was clouded and she found herself reaching for reasons as to why she was lying on the floor in this strange room, but discovering none. The throbbing in her head, compounded with the cloudiness in her mind, made her want to shut her eyes and go back to sleep. This desire was countered by a spark of fear that she felt within. Something didn’t feel right. Even though she could think of no reason why she was in any danger, something told her that all was not well. After a few more minutes, Amy attempted to sit up again. This time she managed, even though her head still pounded harshly.
"What happened to me?" she pondered as she rubbed her eyes, trying to get a clearer view of the room. "I feel like I’ve got a hangover." Using the footboard and bedpost of the large canopy bed next to her, Amy managed to hoist herself onto her feet. She swayed dizzily as she stood up, and held on to the bedpost for support. "How long have I been here," she questioned as she placed one hand on her forehead, as if trying to stop the pain. She glanced down at her clothes, and was shocked to find herself wearing a full-length, forest green, silk dress. Every aspect about it bespoke another age long ago, from the puffy sleeves to the full, rounded, silk skirt. "Now where did this come from?" she wondered as she fingered the smooth material. Her entire memory seemed to be wiped clean. She had no previous recollections of where she was, why she was there, what happened to her, or why she was dressed in this fashion. Walking over to the window, she pressed her forehead upon the cool glass, trying to get a clear view of where she was, hoping that something would trigger her memory, but she saw nothing but tree branches outlined by the light of the midnight moon. The chill of the glass against her forehead was soothing, so for several minutes she rested against the pane, clouding the window with warmth of her breath. Soon, she felt steadier, and the throbbing in her head seemed easier to bear. She crossed the room to the little fire place, and using the poker, she stirred up the embers, trying to see if she could reignite the flame. A strange, potent, yet sweet fragrance arose from the ashes, but the fire was dead and cold. Not even a single spark was visible.
"Well this is hopeless," she thought to herself and began to fumble around in the dark, looking for a flashlight or some other source of light. After a few moments of bumping into furniture in the quickly dimming room, she happened upon an oil lamp setting on a small table. As she picked it up, her hand brushed against a small box, knocking it to the floor. The sound of small object clattering to the floor met her ears as she knelt down to retrieve the box. It turned out to be an open box of matches. Quickly, Amy put them to good use in lighting the lamp, thinking how odd it was that the matches were so readily available, "Just like in the movies," she thought. After a quick glance around the room, Amy headed for the door, feeling as if it was important for her to get out of the small room with the oppressive fragrance. She tried the door handle, but found that it was locked.
"Of course it would be," she thought as she tugged on the door. Kneeling down beside the handle, she held the lamp up to it and discovered that it possessed a very old sort of lock, complete with a keyhole. She tried to peer through the hole, but there was only darkness on the other side. "I guess I’m not getting out through the door," she thought. "Maybe the window will open." The window turned out to be as obstinate as the door, and would only open as much as two inches. Amy pressed her mouth and nose to the crack and breathed in the sharp, but fresh autumn air. While breathing in deeply of the pure air, she felt as if she had been smothered until this minute and that this was the first breath of fresh air she had breathed in a long time. Suddenly, she felt more awake and alert, as if her mind and body had come back to life. When she had breathed enough she stepped back into the room, determined to find a way out. "Perhaps the key to the room is around her somewhere," she thought, feeling doubtful, but unable to think of any other solution.
