(no subject)
Maybe the scent was the tipoff; a wave of air just rolled through the bar as the door opened on pitch blackness, then closed.
Maybe the movement in the air was a clue; there was a shimmer against the far wall, a wide ripple that seemed almost to swim upwards.
Maybe it was the sound of the rafters faintly creaking under unaccustomed weight.
Or maybe it was the long, soft sound, a sort of breathy clicking and rattling, that drew attention.
Either way. . . don't you want to know what's up there?
Because it wants to know about you.
Maybe the movement in the air was a clue; there was a shimmer against the far wall, a wide ripple that seemed almost to swim upwards.
Maybe it was the sound of the rafters faintly creaking under unaccustomed weight.
Or maybe it was the long, soft sound, a sort of breathy clicking and rattling, that drew attention.
Either way. . . don't you want to know what's up there?
Because it wants to know about you.