UPLOADED BY: ANONYMOUS

>>> I’ve managed to hack into this godforsaken site in Julianna’s absence. She transported herself into the House after hearing Christina Rossetti forfeit the debate, and some things occurred that I wish for an audience to read about. She may frighten you and the authors with the revelations she puts out in the exit interviews, but I’m sure what she did today is something she would never willingly show to an audience. She is a mysterious, vindictive creature, and so I warn you: what you’re about to read is incredibly unpleasant. I’ve tried to keep the narrative as true to the actual events as I saw them occur, but forgive my occasional literary bouts, it’s all part of the trade. And don’t worry about her finding out about this post, I’ve encoded it so she’ll never know it was even there.

As Julianna’s words echoed over the loudspeakers surrounding the debate arena, the lights dimmed. The stairs leading down from the arena platform descended into the ground – thereby preventing the two debaters from getting off. Christina and Charles ran towards the space where the stairs were only a minute ago, quickly growing anxious over this sudden turn of events. And then there was darkness.

“Who the hell is that?” asked Franz Kafka, squinting at a lone figure that appeared bathed in a glowing light behind Charles and Christina. The two turned around to face this new guest, and instantly recognized her face from that of an earlier Power of Reason Challenge.

“Julianna,” reasoned Charles, with a grim look on his face.

“Amongst other names, yes.” The figure smiled, taking a step closer to the two HouseAuthors she so eagerly desired to have had a more spirited debate. Cloaked in a hooded robe, her hair obscured but her face visible. Flawless and beautiful.

Christina stammered, the atmosphere lending itself to the ball of nerves already knotted tight in her stomach: “Why did you come here? Don’t you do all your work from somewhere outside the House?”

“I do, but I’ve become fed up with the level of denial you’re giving off every single week. The viewers want to see scandal, and you’re just not providing.”

“I did not come here to create scandal, Miss.”

“You didn’t come here at all!” shouted Franz in a moment of sudden clarity. “None of us came here!”

The hooded woman raised a finger in his direction. “Silence, bug!” Franz went quiet. She laughed, a small chuckle that was at the same time, equal parts cute and terrifying. “I’ve had it up to here with you, Christina. You betray your fellow women just to exact some pitiful revenge, and now that I grant you the grand moment, you give up! I won’t have you ruining my game!”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about! I know noth-” Julianna cut her off.

“There you go again! Denial! Won’t you let up even just once?!”

There was more silence. Then, a murmur: “That’s what I’ve been trying to tell her all day.” The two women turned to face the voice. It was Charles. He stood between them.

“Oh don’t you start, Mr. Baudelaire.” began Julianna. “For a man who spent most of his life in the company of whores and drunks, I expected you to be a lot more forward with your attraction to Christina.”

He blushed blood red – a rare moment for all those who witnessed it. Recomposing himself, Charles retorted: “Christina is as holy and noble as the Virgin Mary. Why would I ever find myself attracted to a woman so wholesome and devout?”

“Affairs of the heart are tricky, complicated matters.” As she spoke, Julianna reached up under her hood, in a gesture that appeared to be some kind of hair patting. She pulled the hood tighter around her head, and returned her gaze to Christina. “Your time here is up. You lose.”

Dumbfounded, Christina tried to understand: “Lose? But didn’t you say that Franz and Herman had to vote to decide who would lose?”

“I changed my mind. It’s my game, I can change the rules. And the new rule says that you lost, so now you must go.”

“Now everyone just hold on a minute.” Herman had taken a few steps closer to the platform, glancing up at the figures above him. “We’ve played by every rule in your book, Julianna. To change them now is unfair to us, especially since we’ve pretty much taken this entire game for what it is without any real opposition.”

“A mistake that will surely prove fatal,” sighed Franz from beside him.

“I really don’t care what you think is fair or not. It’s not like any of you can win this game anyway.”

Christina. “Then why are we here?”

The corners of Julianna’s lips curled into a cruel smile. “That’s for me to know, and for you to die trying!” She snapped her fingers, and a low rumbling feeling began under their feet. The middle of the platform was being mechanically pulled away, and a large object began to rise out from below.

“Good god, is that..?” Franz gasped.

More laughter from Julianna. “Yes! Yes it is! The Guillotine! The same Guillotine you four helped send six of your fellow authors to! Isn’t it magnificent?” While the authors stared at the medieval contraption rising from what seemed to be the bowels of Hell, Julianna made a swift motion and grabbed Christina’s arms from behind her. Before she could recognize what had happened to her, Christina found herself dragged violently close to the Guillotine. “Time to say goodbye, Ms. Rossetti!” Christina screamed.

Then a roar erupted from the platform. “Like hell she will!” In another swift move, Charles lunged towards Julianna, who was busy restraining the distressed poet. He went to drag Julianna down and away from Christina, but before he was able to make contact, Julianna threw a strange powder in his face. He crumbled to the floor! “Damn you!” He laid there, frantically coughing and attempting to rub the powder out of his eyes.

Franz and Herman began furiously trying to climb onto the platform, but the slippery edges of the arena gave them no opportunity to do so. Their screams and cries of help went unnoticed by the three on the platform.

“Any last words, Ms. Rossetti?” Julianna finally managed to subdue Christina, firmly holding her neck down on the base of the Guillotine.

Hopeless and afraid, Christina knew there was nothing that could save her at this point. Her time had come – death was upon her. But then she smiled. Tears trickled down her face as she watched Charles Baudelaire stumble around trying to come to her rescue, and she smiled. “So this is what he meant. If you accept death and treat it as a friend, you won’t be afraid of it when it finally arrives. Oh… Charles…” She heard the lock of the device, and knew it was only a matter of time before the blade would come down on her.

“One more time. Any last words, Ms. Rossetti?” Julianna was impatient now, desperate to release the blade and end this mess of a Thanksgiving Special.

By this time, Charles managed to clear his eyes, but the powder left him weak and unable to stand. All he could do was watch the scene unfold – silently. Christina spoke, barely audible yet crystal clear:

“He did not love me living; but once dead
He pitied me; and very sweet it is
To know he still is warm tho’ I am cold.”

“So pathetically sentimental,” spat Julianna. And with that, she pulled the lever.

A scream. A slice. Another scream. A thud. A third scream. A laugh.

A blackout.