The things are gone. Empty and cold. The things. Look. The door opens, the things are gone. The other door. No things. Gone so quickly. The people. Alone. I’m cold. We are cold. He is here but they are not. The attic window, closed. Another door open, the things are gone. Dark and cold. The wind and dark, no flame. They were here. Gone so quickly. We look. They are gone. We wait. Empty and cold. Alone. He moves along the stair. He is here. We are. He moves behind. The doors close. Empty and cold.
[Photo courtesy of Poptart.]