I forgot.

Forgot that I was supposed to keep changing the combination padlocks to stop her.

Somehow, she got out.

E.E.

On the third night, I saw her for the first time; she was staring at me over the back of the rocking chair. Smiling sweetly, her open mouth buzzing with shark’s teeth. Eyes glowing like fresh struck welds.

She came to me on the fourth night, shook me awake and said she wanted to dance with me. Downstairs, we moved together, slow like the night, her gossimer skin dripping from her bones in the segmented moonlight. As she pulled me close, she dug her sharp fingers into my bare shoulders and drew blood.

Whispering into my ear, her breath smelling of ancient mossy stones, she hissed,

“My love, you’d look so good on one of my hooks. Just you wait.”

– Hidden in a Stephen King book.