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(Rom Spaceknight #5, April 1980)

north

You enter the house.
You are in a small room.
You hope you will
be safe in here
from the aliens
disguised as FBI agents.

There is a window
in the east wall.
There are exits
to the west and south.

look

There is a wooden table
and chair here.
There is a fireplace
in the north wall.
There is a window
in the east wall.
There are exits
to the west and south.

You hear a low moan.
A pair of ghostly eyes
appears above
the mantelpiece.

A smoky tendril
emerges from
the fireplace.

The tendril
reaches out
for you and
your friends!

This house
Is haunted!

fight house

What do you want
to fight the house with?

fight house with steel fists

Nothing happens.

The tendril wraps
around your friends.
They are paralysed!

fight house with hidden subspace laser

You fire your
Hidden Subspace Laser
at the fireplace. The eyes
above the fireplace widen
as though in shock.

The house screams.
The walls shake.

The table flies
through the air
and strikes you
in the back.

Your Hidden Subspace Laser
has three charges left.

fight house with negative energy gun

You fire your
Negative Energy Gun
at the fireplace. The eyes
above the fireplace wince
as though in pain.

The house screams.
The window in
the east wall cracks.

Your Negative Energy Gun
has two charges left.

get friends

You pick up your friends.
Your cyborg strength
lets you carry them easily.

use jetpack

You turn on
your jetpack.
You hover
above the floor.

The house screams.

The exhaust from your
jetpack has set
the house on fire!

south

You are standing in
a clearing in the woods.
Sunlight filters though
the dense canopy.

In front of you stands
a humble wooden house.

Smoke drifts out of
the window on the
east side of the house.

The house screams.

There are exits
to the north, south and west.

wait

You wait.

A cloud of sinister
black fog envelops
the house.

When the fog lifts,
the house
has disappeared.

You stand with your
friends, staring at the
smouldering square
of flattened grass
where a haunted
house once stood.



Adam Ford lives and writes on unceded Jaara Country in the town of Chewton, in southeastern so-called Australia. He is the author of the poetry collections The Third Fruit is a Bird and Not Quite the Man for the Job, the spoken word walking tour Dance to the Anticlinal Fold, and the forthcoming speculative poetry collection Choosing Sides. His website is theotheradamford.wordpress.com.
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10 Aug 2026

the sleeping are so hard to distinguish / from the dead
We'd only lived in Arizona four years—it was our retirement place. But I'd died there, and she'd dumped my ashes out in the desert without fanfare, without any poem or prayer, unless you considered, “Jesus, Marty, don't leave me. Why'd you leave me, you old bastard" to be an elegy.
Nature, desecrated, refused to yield more than bone
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