Wednesday, 9 November 2011
Gas masks, newspapers, and assorted bits of junk are scattered on the dusty floor.
The Princess is huddled in the corner, knees drawn up to her chest, hands clasped tight around them. She’s frightened, but puts on a brave face.
The faint sound of static comes from the darkened stairway.
There is the sound of a door being unlatched, a screeching creak, then heavy booted footsteps.
The Princess stands, slowly and cautiously, her back pressed against the crumbling wall
A hand, clad in a black, fingerless glove, curls slowly around the doorframe. The fingernails are dirty, ragged, and almost black, and the hand explores the brickwork inquisitively.
The sound of static distortion grows louder.
The figure comes into view, black clad, head bowed. The Princess’s eyes are wide, and her lower lip trembles. Her hands are scrunched into tight little fists at her sides.
The figure has the face of an animal. Black, blank eyed, bedraggled. The long ears rise into points. The face of a Hare.
The static rises to a howl- and we see the Princess scream. Silently.