Tagged: pulp

“What?” I asked the figure, not sure what I was hearing. “What do you mean—?”

There was a rush. The ground met me, and I kept going.

I clutched my ears. The sound hurt in a way that was hard to understand. It dug at a wound I didn’t know I had—somewhere in my chest.

I stared at the adult person, or adult person-shaped thing, standing there. They didn’t do anything at first. I risked glancing back to make sure that there wasn’t a second ghost person in the mirrored corner. There wasn’t. That didn’t make me feel better.

The open door of The Phobia Box filled my vision. The idea that I could fall into the damn thing occurred to me, and I stepped back from it.

I screamed for longer than I thought I ever could. I screamed until I was sure I was about to die from suffocation if the bugs didn’t take me out.