it feels like we're ready to crack, these days, you and I
Downstairs the commotion is something muffled and echoing - shouts of someone get in here! and who flipped over the dining table? and why is the basement door open? covering the suddenly hysterical trill of the music box up in the children's room. Footsteps thunder across the bare boards of the ground floor, extra crew converging on the dining area as if to try to help or - and let's be honest, more likely - to try and capture as much footage as possible.
Remi's call goes unanswered, the camera blinking away with no one attending it. And before he can leave, the door to the bedroom slams shut, quick and desperate, the wood quivering in its frame as if to try to keep shut. And at first the medium won't be blamed for assuming that he's trapped inside with whatever ghoul resides in this old Americana nightmare; there's no sound from Ronin or the crew now, nothing but the held breath of children long since dead.
And then it starts: slow, soft footsteps from down the hall outside, like someone trying to keep their steps light. Someone who knows exactly where to step to stop the boards from creaking to wake up the children. Someone like a mother.
The terror in the room with Remi expands like a balloon. They were awake, they knew - they knew - and they couldn't stop her. The footsteps stop. The doorknob begins to twist.
Remi's call goes unanswered, the camera blinking away with no one attending it. And before he can leave, the door to the bedroom slams shut, quick and desperate, the wood quivering in its frame as if to try to keep shut. And at first the medium won't be blamed for assuming that he's trapped inside with whatever ghoul resides in this old Americana nightmare; there's no sound from Ronin or the crew now, nothing but the held breath of children long since dead.
And then it starts: slow, soft footsteps from down the hall outside, like someone trying to keep their steps light. Someone who knows exactly where to step to stop the boards from creaking to wake up the children. Someone like a mother.
The terror in the room with Remi expands like a balloon. They were awake, they knew - they knew - and they couldn't stop her. The footsteps stop. The doorknob begins to twist.
when it's just the two of us, only the two of us, I could die
