"It's coming."

"I know she is."

"It. It's not her anymore."

"Where can we hide, the attic?"

"It'll look there first."

"The basement?"

"Maybe, it's such a mess there."

"I forgot how it smells down here."

"Shh, I hear her."

"Jenny, wake up. You're soaked! You're having a nightmare."

  • Poetry
  • July 04, 2025