Out of the darkness, the mist from her mouth covers the shape like a blanket, and for one bizarre moment, it presents itself as a ghost in a white sheet. Floating menacingly above her, she reaches out and pokes it with her finger, hoping it will pop like a bubble of soap. It does no such thing. Instead, her finger goes through the mist and prods what feels like a leather jacket. A wet leather jacket. Wet from the rain. Sliding across its surface, her finger slips into the darkness as the shape looms over her as if she were a baby in its crib gawped at by some loathsome old granny with no teeth. The smell coming from the thing’s mouth is as nauseating as the stench of sewage; its body odour like that of a dirty old dog blanket, reeking of untold filthiness. Scampering away from it the best she can, she inadvertently backs herself into the corner of the hallway and prepares to be butchered like a little piggy. At this moment, the mist dissolves, and the light shining through the window at the end of the hall casts the features of the thing’s face in a pale hue. Resembling the moon, it bears down on her with eyes like lumps of coal or two freshly dug holes in the ground ready to swallow the newly dead.