Microbookends – Brit / Pack


Brittle as my nerves are, there is something familiar about the smell.

Her perfume. But something else: Latent. Evil.

My heart’s pounding.

“In the room with the suitcases, I think that’s where I am…”

Phone to my ear, moving through the door.

But she’s not there. Dimly, I see it on a table, a cheap cassette player next to a microphone, her voice now looping “In the room….”

Confused, terrified, I lean over the table.

From the shadows someone I’m grabbed from behind. Icy malice reaches into me like an x-ray.

“You weren’t really expecting to leave now, were you? Why, I can see you didn’t even pack…“

Microbookends – Brit / Pack

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