Horror Nights
The beam cut through the dark, hitting the space where we had just been sitting.
There, peering over the edge of the sofa cushion, were two pale, milky eyes. They weren't the blue eyes Lily had been born with. These were the color of cataracts, bulging and sightless. Her skin—what was left of it—was a bruised, translucent purple, clinging tightly to a tiny skull. Her mouth opened, revealing gums that were black and receding, and a tongue that looked like a shriveled slug.
She didn't crawl. She moved with a jerky, unnatural twitch, her limbs snapping into place like a broken doll.
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