Strange Days Just Get Stranger

An acrid wind slithers in the chaparal these days. Strangers keep showing up in the Black Mansion looking for cracks. In what we're not sure, but we rather suspect they are searching for fissures in the very fabric of the multiverse, places where the strangeness is leaking from West Texas into other less vile villas than the one we inhabit. Wish us luck, as time may draw nigh when we find ourselves finally fleeing this barely inhabitable place for fairer climes. Wait. What's that I hear whispered on the wind? Is that... could it be? Could this spell the end to the West Texas adventure? The omens all point to a departure. Every divination does as well. And yet, it is not, as they say, over until it is over.  Today we plan to do crafts in the dark hall, so in that spirit, Lulu, go find some dreary old object and put a raven on it. See ya.