A strange atmosphere hanging over The Last House tonight.
The sky outside is heavy with rain, but it doesn’t look like any will fall. The heat is heavy, like a hand on your chest.
Inside . . . everything feels pressurized, oppressive.
There are shadows moving through the rooms, vague shapes darting here and there in the periphery of my vision . . . some pop out into my line of sight, trying to startle me.
Almost clown like, playful. But they want me to be scared.
I feel twitchy, paranoid . . . glancing, looking back over my shoulder as things pass.
It hasn’t been this bad in a long time.
It’s been getting worse by the minute.
It’s going to be a long night.