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Weekly Contest #198
Act 1 It was a cold dark morning at Woodlands, the rain lashed down on the depressingly horizontal concrete roof as the rusty gates squeaked and squealed in the ravaging wind. The hallways of Woodlands are cold, dark, concrete, beige unforgiving, but for a singular stripe of red running through the center of the wall. Adding a dash of colour. Ringgggggggg! – The bell rattles in its shell. Mr Mardy confidently struts into the room, old and wise, he has black and grey hair with a pointed beard, short in stature. He sh...
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