The yellow morning half-light filters through the broken glass and boards that were the old the houses windows. That lonely, fearful time before the dawn. How long have I been here? Waiting, loathing, watching.
An empty shell, no light, no life. I will always be reminded of that cruel night all those years ago, there is someone in the street passing by. Alone so early, how foolish. I wonder can he hear me screaming, my calling. I don’t know if he can or not, each step though brings him closer.
Good he’s stopped. Yes that’s it turn and look up at this house. Can you see my twisted, tortured face?
Oh yes, he can, now he hears me too. Come my friend, come inside and let us get acquainted.