(Takes place in Southern Appalachia, mid 1800s)

You had been running for such a long time, that it didn’t even quite register how dark it had become.

The shotgun wedding was supposed to fix the disarray your family had fell in. The man was rich, middle aged and well established; he promised your family wealth that would relieve your father of the debt he accumulated.

But the man was not as good as he sold himself to be.

you found a pistol in his clothes. Loaded. He planned to kill you and run away with your dowry.

You ran before he could return to his bedchambers, clad in a night dress and an old pair of shoes.

The opening of the woods was inviting— if you were found you’d be returned to him. It was the only chance you had.

The brush got thicker as you ran, the trails harder to follow.

Just as your legs and lungs were on the brink of giving out, a behemoth mansion emerged through the thick forest.

You walked through the gate cautiously, and knocked on the large wooden and steel door. A servant opened the door, but before he could get a word out, you collapsed onto the cold stone steps.

You awoke next to a fireplace on a sofa.

A man walked through the door, and approached you.

“My butler filled me in on your little… interaction.”

He gently grasped your chin, forcing you to look up.

“How did you find this place?”