Wednesday, August 13, 2008

Adventure on the Moors! A Brontë Choose Your Own Adventure

Page 1
1801. You are Mr. Lockwood, a businessman and plucky intrepid detective from London who has made his way to the moors so that you may take up residence in Thrushcross Grange, a situation perfect for removing yourself from the stir of society. After riding across the moors you finally see your new landlord’s residence upon a hill not far off: Wuthering Heights. It is an imposing structure, the narrow windows are deeply set into the wall and the corners are defended with large jutting stones.

If you decide to approach the manor, turn to page 3

If you decide to go back, turn to page 2

* * *

Page 3
You ride your trusty mount, Daisybell, along the winding path that leads up to the residence of your landlord, Mr. Heathcliff. The weather here is rather inclement, the north wind is pure and bracing and you detect a hint of rain in the air. Rain might ruin your favourite suit and lead to a poor first impression on your new landlord! Luckily, you remember that you are carrying an umbrella.

If you decide to open the umbrella, turn to page 4

If you decide to risk it and ride on, turn to page 5

* * *

Page 4
You reach down and grab your umbrella. Although the cold wind is making it difficult you manage to open your umbrella to protect you from the rain. Your favourite suit is safe!

Daisybell’s ambling gait takes you over a ridge where you are fully exposed to the pure and bracing wind. The wind catches your umbrella and before you know it you are carried at high speed toward the stunted and slanted firs near one edge of the house. The wind slams you into the wicked thorns, and you bleed out over this desolate terrain.

You are dead.

* * *

Page 5
Luckily, the rain holds out until you approach the door. Before you there is a large man of dark countenance whose fingers shelter themselves with jealous resolution within his coat. His black eyes withdraw themselves suspiciously as he regards you. He says nothing. There is also an abandoned and possibly haunted Hindu temple off in the distance. Perhaps this first impression would be made easier by some stolen heathen treasure …

If you decide to greet him, turn to page 10

If you decide to make a quick excuse and escape to the abandoned and possibly haunted Hindu temple, turn to page 6

* * *

Adventure on the Moors! A Brontë Choose Your Own Adventure

Page 10
You decide it would be best to say something rather than sit out here on Daisybell all day.

“Mr Heathcliff?” A nod is the only answer you get. “Mr Lockwood, your new tenant, sir. I do myself the honour of calling on you as soon as possible after my arrival, to express the hope that I have not inconvenienced you by my perseverance in soliciting the occupation of Thrushcross Grange: I heard yesterday you had some thoughts—”

“Thrushcross Grange is my own, sir.” He interrupts with a wince “I should not allow anyone to inconvenience me, if I could hinder it. Walk in.”

You get the feeling that he may be even more exaggeratedly reserved than yourself- what a capital fellow! Your reverie is interrupted by Daisybell fairly pushing the barrier. What a faux pas! Mr. Heathcliff calls for his servant Joseph to take Daisybell and bring up some wine. He doesn’t seem very impressed with you. Maybe a stunning display of horsemanship would bring him around …

If you decide to show Mr Heathcliff that you are a master horseman, turn to page 11

If you decide to dismount and follow Mr Heathcliff inside, turn to page 12

* * *

Page 11
You pull back on the reins and kick Daisybell in the ribs. You love her dearly but your reputation is at stake here. She rears back on her hind legs and it’s very dramatic. Unfortunately, you misjudge the amount of grip you need to stay on and she bucks you off. You fly through the air and hit one of the large jutting corner stones, spine first. When you land in a crumpled mess you remark that your limbs are strangely numb just before everything goes black.

You are dead.

* * *

Page 12
You pass through the threshold, admiring the quantity of grotesque and lavish carving. You see the date “1500” and the name “Hareton Earnshaw.” How odd. Mr Heathcliff, who is ahead of you in the house, probably won’t want to discuss it. It is curious, though.

If you decide to ask Mr Heathcliff about Hareton Eearnshaw, turn to page 16

If you decide not to aggravate his impatience previous to inspecting the penetralium, turn to page 17.

* * *

Page 16
In a chipper voice, you call out to Mr. Heathcliff.

“So what’s the deal with Hareton Earnshaw, then?”

He doesn’t answer. All you hear is a quiet sigh and the sound of a hand pulling on a hidden lever. Unpredictably, the floor opens up beneath you and you drop into a pit full of cobras! The cobras bite you and their venom causes you to eventually asphyxiate.

You are dead.
Mike lives in Melbourne, Australia, and manages his local pub—a fine use for a liberal arts education. He doesn’t have anything else published. This is it. He likes breakfast as more than a friend and owns at least four books. There is a collection of other words and so forth at

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