The House on Deer Creek Road: Part 3
I couldn’t look at Nyla. I couldn’t feel anything but cold all over. The shadow person stopped pacing and stood just behind us. It bent down, long arms spreading wide, resting its clawed hands on the back of the couch.
...that the cruel joke is that prisons and cliffs share the same architecture: an edge you’re afraid to cross. The only way to learn which one you’re standing on is to step forward and trust gravity to reveal the truth.