They say: "O.K. We will grant your wish! We warned you! Goodbye!"

You blink, and suddenly, you're all alone in the room. You resolve to examine all the other rooms without fear. You discover how you could have left, if it weren't for this curse binding you to the house permanently.

As centuries pass by like minutes, you find yourself wishing you'd asked for something a little more temporary, like home, or a candle. You take to marking the days by counting how many things would have killed you if you could be killed each day, and trying to up your number every time. But after a few decades of this, you get so viciously bored that you start trying to destroy every part of the house that you can. You manage to smash several great examples of vintage architecture over the next millennia, but still you can't leave.

In what you assume is the fifth baktun change in the Mayan calendar since you found this house, you start looking for ways to reverse your curse. This takes a while, and becomes very taxing on such an old body. Your isolation gets the best of you: nothing else has lived this long! Even ghosts eventually wane and dissipate, but not you, you fool! You set about learning how to invoke and break curses.

One day, amidst the wreckage you've caused, you accidentally break the curse with a misspoken spell, just in time to see the Earth get swallowed by the sun, which would have killed you by evaporation if you hadn't had a complete failure of every organ at that very second.

You failed to escape the house, and lived an existence many would consider a gratuitous form of torture.
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