What the--

The shadows flit about, fast and formless on the walls of the room. Where they overlap they become darker, true to the nature of their stationary cousins.

"Kate, Lynne," --their mother thought she was so ingenious-- "what did we do?"


Just looked at that book-thing, whatever fancy word you used for it.

"Grimoire," Josua whispers.

Certainly grim.

The shadows pay no notice, merely prancing upon whatever flat surfaces they fancy, a spectacle altogether phantasmal.

"Well, what do do now?" Still timid, still a quiver in his throat.

Four eyes roll in unison.

The book brought 'em here...

...the book should send 'em back.

Josua nods. It only makes sense, especially when your reasoning is that of a twelve-year-old. He turns back to the grimoire, keeping an eye over his shoulder should the shadows loose interest in their endless circling.

"Hey!" Jubilant. "It says something!"


Like, phantoms?

That, too, made sense to their twelve-year-old sense of reason. As soon as the word was thought though, it sunk into the page, black ink bleeding into the pages.

Recoiling with a start, Josua utters a quick yelp. Even the twins seem taken aback.

"Now what?" he utters, a waver again present in his voice.

Even as he asked, another word manifested itself on the page. The three stare at it, unsure of what to do next.

The End

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