absurdsense

his skin is just crawling up the drapes like a house cat writhing in the folds and systematically tearing it to shreds, because something's wrong here, they are all filling up the jars with blood or wine and he's not sure which he should be more afraid of since he is a recovering alcoholic after all and shouldn't someone tell them that? Well, I will, "excuse me, excuse me" he mutters, then more loudly "Hello!" but they make no response, they just circle in and out of the house as if on conveyor belts carrying their skins full of wine or blood or some other dark and pungent liquid which drips and smears onto the wood paneling within their foot prints like a Rorschach blot and surely they should know better than to barge in here... but here he finally looks up from their humanish feet and realizes that their very humanish torsos and even more humanesque heads are quite unsettlingly inhuman. Everything's in its proper place, the nose, eyes, hair, mouth, tusks, arms, legs etc. but all a little too much, like they're trying too hard, somehow, the sum is less than their parts. They move perfectly naturally, but when you look closely they seem hollow, as if there is no weight to their bodies, as if they were not ghosts, but thinly disguised chunks of air, not water like the rest of us, they look as if the silent drafts within the house might topple them like so many bowling pins, but they remain solid and unwavering and the worst part of all is their eyes which are a little too big or a little too small... fuck, they are ghosts.