The prickles on your back revive me.
I peer through the cracks in the attic floor.
You stand directly below;
I use my opaque form to creak the floorboards.
I smell your fear. Your tasty womanly fear.
Come into the attic, wench!
I will take your head, spin it round til it comes right off!
Carrie takes out her earphones.
She usually ignores the sounds coming from the attic.
“Mommy! Help me!” It sounds like her daughter. But she’s staying with her father. “Help!”
Reluctantly, Carrie unfolds the stairs to the attic.
