|This is a rather lengthy game. Take your time, explore, examine. There are lots of clues if you look for them.
You lean back against the seat in the train, lazily watching the monotony of the passing landscape outside.
The tranquilizing rhythm of the train, the gentle swaying of the car makes you drowsy and you let your mind wander...
Was it the right thing to do, taking a sabbatical year from college? Your parents didn't exactly approve, certainly not your dad, who threw a tantrum when you proclaimed your decision at the dinner table. You smile a little to yourself. At least you had been wise enough to break the news whilst your uncle and aunt were visiting, preventing your dad from lining up the heavy artillery.
You just know within yourself, that you would never have passed the final exam. What had happened? History, used to be your favorite subject, and you have always scored high. But it was like slowly your interest faded, until there was nothing left but lifeless trivial facts.
You accidentally stumbled over the ad in a Sunday paper a few weeks back. A position was open as a receptionist at an old hotel on the coast of the Mexican Gulf. An area well known for pirate activity in 1700... You felt a spark of interest as you read the ad, maybe this was the way to spark your interest again. Spending time, actually living in the area where pirates once roamed could be the boost you so badly needed. If, on top of it, you were to stumble over some long forgotten pirate treasure, it would be so much the better.
The train stops with a sudden halt, jerking you out of your thoughts. You're here... At Crab-Apple Cove.
The name doesn't exactly sound like a place any Pirate with just the slightest self respect would choose for a hide-out, but who are you to argue with history? You quickly get your belongings, a suitcase, that has seen better days, and hurry out of the train. On the dusty platform a man is waiting for you. Without a word he takes your suitcase, and flings it into a carriage, then nods towards the door. You get in, and he climbs up on the box, grabs the reins and soon you are on your way. Not many words are exchanged between you. Every attempt you make to start a conversation is met with an unsympathetic grunt, and you soon give up.
After about an hour in total silence the carriage stops at a narrow path which leads up to the hotel through a huge lawn. The man gets down from the box, drops your suitcase on the ground and without a word drives off again, leaving you by yourself. With a sigh, you pick up your suitcase and walk along the path, towards the wooden porch and the entrance to the hotel. Your “home” for the months to come.