There’s a little place I know where the dead walk and roam . . . a place of evil that’s trapped inside the walls. Can you hear the groans? It’s sick. I want to know what’s underneath. I scratch at the antique paper coating the places I can’t go . . . slivers pierce my fingernails and rodents bite my ankles here. I want to escape. But it’s too late. Once you let it in, you have to stay inside. There’s no way out. You’re trapped here now. Look into my eyes. Do you see my soul? It’s black and aged . . . here, you should never go. I can’t stop manipulating. Every word out of my mouth is a lie belated, waiting. Waiting to sink my claws deep in you and drag you to the depths of all unholy creation. The world through a monster’s eye. There’s a cabin off the road on Highway 666. It’s a shack I go to sometimes when I’m in the mood for a little hunting and driving. Sometimes both at once–other times, I’m a patient little fuck. When it gets dark outside and the trees are swaying back and forth, I hear whispering in those hollow logs that echos through the weeping willows. The last time I was there, I could’ve sworn I saw a stupid bitch running around out there. It was about 2AM, and I decided to go see for myself. When I got out, I heard crying coming from all directions. “Come here honey,” I called out in a sweet-as-sugar voice, dripping with the kind of evil that grabs your ankles and twists around you. Squeezes the good outta you from the inside out. Takes it, destroys it, and leaves you dark and cold forever . . . I found the little twerp sitting underneath a big maple tree out in the woods around the cabin. I took her hair in my hands and looked deep into her eyes . . . She was shaking and shivering in fear–guess she didn’t like what stared back at her.
Alice
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