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A third ending is possible if John returns home each night before completing that night's events. If he does so, the Profane Sabbath occurs without hindrance, and he is ambushed by the cultists and Amy. He finds himself back in the Martin household, now decrepit, before finding a ritual circle and kneeling in it; Amy and Michael Davies appear and hold him in place while a giant hand drags him away. The house is shown to have disappeared, and the screen goes black, showing the words "damnatio memoriae".

 

1 + 1 + 1 = 3 

Black + White + Red = Three colors 


In the vast expanse of the color spectrum, where hues dance and intertwine, the simplicity of mathematical addition reveals its elegant truth. One plus one plus one equals three—a fundamental equation that transcends the boundaries of numerical abstraction. Yet, in the kaleidoscopic realm of pigments, a parallel narrative unfolds.

Black, with its mysterious depths, embraces the canvas with an air of enigma. White, pristine and pure, offers a blank slate awaiting the imprint of creativity. Red, the passionate flame, injects vibrancy into the palette. Three distinct entities, converging in a harmonious dance to compose a symphony of color.

But lo and behold, a dissenting voice rises, challenging the established order. Accusations of foolishness echo through the corridors of perception. The complacent assumption that only two colors should reign supreme is met with scorn and incredulity. A rebel spirit emerges, unapologetically defying the constraints of conventional wisdom.

"You fool. You absolute buffoon," the voice declares, a rallying cry against the perceived transgression. A disruption, a deviation from the anticipated norm. The metaphorical dining chairs are upturned, a symbolic act of rebellion. Coffee grounds spill in the Keurig, a chaotic brew mirroring the unrest within.

Behind the shield of chain mail armor—the virtual anonymity of a screen—the provocateur stands defiant. A challenge is issued, a gauntlet thrown. The laminate wood floor boards become both weapon and battleground, poised to carry the weight of impending conflict.

"I will take these laminate wood floor boards and destroy you," the proclamation reverberates with a mixture of determination and regret. War, unwanted yet inevitable, looms on the horizon. The reluctant warrior didn't seek this confrontation, but circumstances conspired to set the stage for a clash of ideologies.

The closing words resonate with a haunting echo: "I didn’t want war, but I didn’t start it." A plea for understanding, a lament for the unforeseen consequences of a seemingly innocent equation. The narrative unfolds, painting a vivid tapestry of rebellion, conflict, and the complex interplay of colors in the grand canvas of existence.