I’ve been so lonely. Too lonely. For too long.

Oh good! You found the broken window. Shame you didn’t notice the cellar door first. I love the feeling of warm life in my cold bowels. All that pumping blood. All that fear. But the window will do nicely. Yes, come in. That’s right.

If I may ….

It’s just a little cut! Yes, the broken glass is sharp here. You’ll soon find that everything here is rather sharp. Your friend is crying, so sweet. Ah! Oh! The blood … I can taste it. On the floor, on the windowsill ….

Don’t argue, don’t argue, children.

Come closer, come deeper inside.

There’s so much I want to show you.

THERE, ARE WE ALL BETTER now? You and your friends?

You found the living room, how nice. A perfect place to settle in and play some games. Tell a few stories.

I see you brought flashlights. That’s too bad. I always prefer candles. The flames create wonderful shadows on my walls, in my hollow corners. Good and scary, those shadows. Who knows what hides within them, right?

Come on now, let’s all get cozy. Sleeping bags are rolled out, I see. Snacks! What a cozy night. A sleepover in my great belly.

And now my favorite part.

Story time.

Each one of you have a haunted house story to tell, and each one is suitably frightening.

Wonderful.

I have a haunted house story as well.

But I’ll wait my turn. Let the dark grow darker, the shadows deeper. Wait until everyone is firmly settled for a long night of fun.

By the way, I’ve quietly sealed the windows, locked the doors. Trust me when I say there’s no way out.

Of course, the cellar doors are still unchained.

But I’m afraid you wouldn’t make it through the cellar.

Now, if you don’t mind, I need to poke and prod your friends a bit. I need one susceptible so I can join you.

Didn’t I mention?

Oh yes, I’ll be joining the fun. I always do. It’s a devilish pleasure to slip inside the flesh. So warm and squishy and alive.

Two girls and two boys. How appropriate. Children, all of you. It makes me sad to think … well, regardless. I must admit how much I adore children. The adults who visit me are filled with so much suspicion, so much anger.

It’s not very tasty.

No, it’s the innocence I crave. The early, naked pangs of lust. The raw tang of fear. The idiotic pride. They are all spices in the stew.

Speaking of which, this girlfriend of yours is not to my taste. Did you know she’s abused at home? Her mind is quite dark and self-destructive. Also, she senses something. She’s smart, this one. If broken inside.

Let’s see … oh, this young man is something altogether different. And yet, he also has secrets. A lust for you! My darling! So sharp and strong … did you know? I wonder. He has quite the imagination, this one. A pornographic mind. Such savage desires. But also … doubts. Insecurities. He’s lonely. A sad sack of meat if there ever was one. He doesn’t even know I’m here, touching his insides, rummaging through his thoughts, dissecting his mind, his emotions. So common in boys. They don’t know how to look inward. Not like girls do.

Not like you, my cherub, my cream filling.

I’ll try the other boy now. My heavens, you’re all just like a box of chocolates! I’ll never know what I’ll get!

Oh my, oh my. I like this one. He’s nice.

Yes, yes. He’s perfect. I’m just going to sink in deeper ….

Oh God yes.

Like a warm bath.

He’s fighting me a bit, which is natural. Instinctive. Still, it makes taking over all that more fulfilling. Ha! He’s like a tiny fish at the end of the line. Fight fight fight, little one! Ha ha, marvelous!

But enough … yes, there we go. I feel a bit like Goldilocks finding the perfect porridge, the perfect bed.

Yes, of course I know all of the stories. All of the feelings you humans have. I relish them, honestly. It’s my favorite part when greeting visitors.

Taking their memories.

Glorious.

Good gracious, if you could hear him screaming in here! He knows now that it’s too late. Now that I’ve taken over. Now that I’ve moved in.

Of course, you don’t hear the screams, but I do. I love them. They’re the perfect orchestration to this new perspective. It’s wonderful, seeing you with his eyes.

I look around at the others. I practice a smile. I wiggle my fingers, feel the scratch and pull of his clothing against the skin.

By the way, looking around at myself through his eyes? It’s intoxicating. My walls, my ceiling, my floors. Look, look! The intricate crown molding, the lovely stone fireplace, the caked filth, the sticky spores, the damp air. I breathe it all in through my new orifice.

It smells heavenly.

It smells just like me.

Like home.

“Brad? What do you think?”

I turn toward you, still smiling. You’re so pretty, darling.

I can’t wait to get you alone.