A sly smirk played across the face that popped out from the dark. Giselle could sense that something was wrong.
A reader lives a thousand lives before he dies. The man who never reads only lives once ~George R. Martin Life isn't about finding yourself; it's about recreating yourself. ~George B. Shaw
"Oh Giselle," the smirk said. Giselle felt the unshakable sensation of being violated, just in that one word. It was deeply upsetting, and gave her the mental image of maggots crawling over expired meat. "You'll do well. Yes, you'll do quite nicely."
"Worry not, child." The presence seemed to sense her anxiety, even seemed to revel in it, tasting her unease. "I only come to give you an important message."
"You are the chosen one." The presence said. Then an eerie laugh reverberated through the room at Giselle's look of confusion and horror. "I am joking, human girl. You are to be sacrificed."
"Eh?" came a confused squawk from the formerly deep and eerie voice.
"Wait...." said Giselle, her voice creaking progressively lower as she made a slow realization. Her eyes popped wide, and she pursed her lips. She stared at a single spot on the white stucco wall of her suburban living room. She said but one word.
