So, I wrote a bit of Amnesia nonsense a while back and decided to upload it now in celebration of Frictional Games's new baby. Congratulations, it's a pig!

Here's some Daniel doing what he does best.

"So, what are we doing?"

Alexander startled and smacked his head on the bricks above the fire pit. "Goddamn, Daniel!"

The younger man lay on his stomach atop the boxes stacked near the chimney. He peered down at Alexander. "Whatcha doing in the kitchen? The servants are making goulash for us tonight, remember?"

"Go play in the sewers," muttered Alexander, rubbing his head.

Daniel smiled and crossed his legs at his knees, let his arms dangle down. He sighed deeply. "I can't find my swimsuit."

"Go torture some prisoners, then."

"Torture is boring." The young man tried to look over Alexander's shoulders; and easy feat, because the boxes towered a few heads taller than the older man. "What's that you're making?"

"Leave me alone."

Secrets always made Daniel's eyes light up. "What is it?"

"Nothing!"

"Tell me!"

Alexander relented, muttering, "They're called cookies."

"Can we eat them? What are they for?"

"They're a pastry from my homeland," said Alexander.

"The place with-" and here, Daniel's voice dropped an octave, "-IMPOSSIBLE GEOMETRY?"

Alexander stopped poking at the white-hot coals with his bare fingers and sucked in a breath, his nostrils flaring. "What do you know of where I come from?"

"Oh, just what you've blabbered when you're drunk. Deserts, that lady you love, IMPOSSIBLE GEOMETRY, all that rubbish."

"What else have I said or done under the influence of alcohol?"

Daniel grinned and wiggled his eyebrows.

Alexander swatted him and the young man rolled off the boxes and bounced onto the floor. "Don't be such a child," growled Alexander.

From the floor, Daniel asked, "How old are you, anyway?"

Alexander turned away and tore a chunk of dough from the lump that lay on the wooden table. Rolling it into a ball and setting it on the shallow metal pan in the coals, he replied, "Older than you."

"That's for sure." Daniel squirmed towards the fire pit. "What is it called again? Coo-kie? Can I have some?"

"No, it's raw dough."

"But it looks good!"

Alexander frowned. "It's magic cookie dough, Daniel."

"Really?" Daniel hardly hesitated a second before scooping up a dough ball from the metal pan and stuffing it into his mouth. "This is delightful!" he managed to choke out, already reaching out for another. Alexander's hand flickered out and seized Daniel's around the wrist.

"Don't eat any. They need to be cooked!"

"Unhand me, fiend!"

"It's not the good sort of magic, Daniel. It's the bad sort. You'll go mad. Bad things will happen."

Daniel stiffened, stuck out his tongue, and began to halfheartedly scrape at it with his fingers. "What will happen?" he asked, only partially interested, his eyes darting again to the cookie dough with longing.

"It's an ancient recipe that may only be consumed after being baked. Now, who knows what will happen. Perhaps the Shadow will finally catch up and tear you apart."

"No," gasped Daniel.

"Yes. Perhaps. Or even worse – I have seen this happen – you will turn into an elephant man, with scabbed skin and mutated feet, and roam this castle in despair and pain for eternity."

"By GOD," said Daniel with revulsion.

"But the most dangerous property of the dough," said Alexander, staring into the white coals, "is its addictive nature. The most common result of eating the raw dough is an incurable addiction that leads to an illness of no cure. You writhe in pain without the dough, but with it; you grow so fat you can not move. Head my words, young Daniel. You cannot let yourself fall prey to the monster I have inadvertently fed you! I need you-" He looked to the side. Where had the idiot boy gone now? "Daniel?"

He turned and found Daniel's entire head buried in the blob of cookie dough. The young man's arms and legs flailed feebly. Grasping Daniel's neck, Alexander wrenched his face from the dough ball. The young man's cheeks were ruddy, his pupils were dilated, and he bit Alexander's arm, forcing the older man to release him.

"Let me eat!" Daniel screamed as he scooped the dough into his arms and scurried a few steps backwards, towards the nifty barrel of acid that Alexander kept in the kitchen (you never knew when you'd need that stuff). They circled each other for a moment before Daniel sprung towards the door. Since his hands were full of dough, he could not reasonably operate the door handle, so he started to bang frantically at the wood with his head. Seeing Alexander approach, Daniel squealed in fear and roundhouse-kicked the door down. He ran down the hallway screaming "Bollocks!"

Alexander took a seat near the fire pit and sighed. It wouldn't be difficult to find the young man. This sort of incident happened far too often for Alexander's liking, and so he had discovered all of Daniel's preferred hiding spots – inside cupboards, atop piles of boxes, behind bookshelves… the most ridiculous places, really. Did the boy really think that because he hid in the dark, Alexander could not find him? Really, it perplexed him.

He knew Daniel was afraid of the dark, the poor sod. (Daniel was also afraid of dogs, heights, cockroaches, water, monsters, pianos, button-down shirts, and women with up-dos.) In a way, Alexander commended Daniel for hiding in the dark despite his paralyzing fear of it. Times like this, when giant red squelchy blobs chased sad little virgins across the globe, were the times when fears had to be faced.

Finding himself bored with his thoughts, Alexander stood and roamed the castle for a bit, trying to find himself some company with the name of Daniel. A few cockroaches skittered across the smooth floors, and he crushed them under his heel, relishing the crunch, because he was a sick sadistic sadist who sadistically enjoyed sadism.

"Daniel?" he called down the hall in the deep voice that made everyone think large things about him. On the list of things that Alexander liked, his own voice was probably number twelve.

The previous eleven spots consisted of things such as levitating naked, Daniel, his wife, his homeworld, Daniel, and that oh-so-intriguing and delightful way blood spurted out of a man's chest when Daniel stabbed him with a pickaxe. He also liked the way Daniel laughed, but maybe that was number fourteen, (right after levitating with only his favorite hat and his favorite socks on. The hat was a furry bearskin cap with earflaps, and the socks were the chunky pink-and-green ones that Daniel had knit him for his birthday.)

Yes. Another thing. He loved cookies. Cookies were even higher on his List of Love than his wife. Of course, he would never tell her that… but it was true. Cookies were just so delicious. Poor Daniel would be addicted to cookies for the rest of his life, but never get to relieve his cravings, because chocolate chip cookies, the very type that were now baking over the fire pit (two cookies in total – Daniel had stolen the rest), would not be invented on this world until 1937. That fact was almost more terrifying than playing Amnesia: The Dark Descent.

Alexander trotted back to the kitchen and found Wilhelm stooping over the cookie pan, poking at the partially burnt cookies with one long talon. "Shoo!" cried Alexander. Wilhelm rolled his eyes and stepped back.

"Why are there only two of them?" he asked in the power of alien thought-speak that Alexander had granted him.

"Daniel ran off with the rest."

"Where'd he go?"

Alexander shrugged and growled, "I'll know soon." Then he stuffed one cookie into his mouth whole, while it was still burning hot, and chewed furiously, palming the other cookie. Wilhelm looked rather sad, but Alexander didn't pay the guy to eat cookies. In fact, he didn't pay him at all.

But let's not go into that.

Slowly, tired of the game, Alexander expanded his senses, until he could hear every sound in the castle. Here and there were the rats, scrabbling at the boxes and barrels that lay randomly around the castle and didn't seem to have a purpose. The servants milled their areas, and there, in the guestroom, huddled under his bedcovers, was Daniel. His groaning could be heard halfway across the castle even without Alexander's alien super-senses.

Alexander headed off to the guestroom. He opened the door and Daniel hardly looked up. The young man was a green shade, groaning, his hands clutching at his protruding stomach. Alexander would have asked Daniel if he was "quite alright", but normally he left the asking of stupid questions to Daniel.

"Am I quite alright?" groaned Daniel. Alexander rolled his eyes.

"No, you aren't."

"Will I be alright?"

Alexander looked down at him. The cookie addiction would not prove fatal, but in the long run? No, he wouldn't be alright. Truthfully, he would love to bring Daniel with him through the portal. But it would not end that way. No. There was only one possible ending. (Or perhaps, thought Alexander, there were three endings…)

"Yes," lied Alexander. "You'll be fine."

"When?"

"Tomorrow."

Daniel sat up a little. "Oh, goody! I wanted to go for a stroll tomorrow through the forest, after we torture the prisoners." Then he groaned and lay back down. "I feel like I've eaten an elephant. They're very large animals, you know."

"Yes, I know."

"Is that a cookie in your hand?"

Alexander nodded.

Daniel paused, a small bashful smile creeping onto his face. "Can I have it?"

Haven't you ever wondered how nineteenth century Prussians survived without cookies?

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