I found another room with an easel in it, and a half-done portrait of myself, apparently done by my captor.I found another room with an easel in it, and a half-done portrait of myself, apparently done by my captor. It was a fair likeness, I decided, but it obviously needed work, since only half was done, the other in pencil sketch on canvas. On an impulse, I fast-drew the pistol, but I decided against shooting my image. Didn't want to put a hole in Brieanna's work, not yet, at least. I decided, then, that it was time to try the front door, so I headed out that way, but on the way I passed the piano. Actually, it was a full Pianoforte, and it was well-tuned. I can't play piano worth a damn, never did learn anything beyond a few simple melodies. I've always been openly envious of people who can play. And the saxophone, forget it. I might be able to get a sound out of it, halfway between a squeal and a sneeze. So the front door it was. I opened it and stepped out. The ground of the house stopped very short of the door, so I stepped out into the long grass and walked away from the house. After about five minute, I turned around. The house was in one corner of a large, grassy field, three edges of which were of huge primeval forest, and the final edge was a mountain cliff. It was a good-sized mountain, and the cliff ran vertical for almost, oh, I'd say about four hundred meters. Then I saw the joke. When I realized what I was looking at, I almost died laughing. Most people probably wouldn't have gotten it, but it was funny. The house was an American southern plantation-style design on the outside. What's funny is that there is nowhere in America where the mountain and the building exists together. |