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Desperate to find some use for my hands, I clawed the
spaces around me. Finally, I seized the wide collar of a
coat. I wasted no time in hoisting the killer above my head,
hurling him into the darkness. Or at least I would have, had
the man not disappeared entirely. All that commented upon
the wolf I held was a magnificent cloak, its silken blackness
tucked firmly into my grip.
The room—stage, perhaps—had become a void. I wiped
the blood from my neck and released my sisters into the
darkness around me, supposing my attacker nearby. Their
smiles fell upon only dust and air. I moved to the doorway
and peered over the tangles of creepers and moss-smothered
cement blocks that had once formed a formidable courtyard.
From the moonlight and willows came the voice that
once lingered at my ear. “What sport you’ve given me, big
friend! I’d taken you for an oaf, given your size. But you’ve
a smidge of magic about yourself, as well. Or is it those
blades that smile like children at a magic show? Why, they
very nearly touched me—a rarified miracle, if I don’t say so
myself. And of course, I do. But the show is far from over,
Family Man, and you must be warned—not a single soul has
lived through all of my acts. I somehow suspect you won’t
either. But, whatever the outcome, we’ll give the audience
quite the show, won’t we?”
The voice faded into the night. I turned back toward the
abandoned house and reexamined it. This was not a structure
serving only as a provisional surface upon which a dream of
a forgotten house had been projected. Rather, this was the
forgotten house itself. I lived here once, as a child. Almost
immediately, the thought of my recent attacker passed. I was
filled with wonder at the house fallen at that very moment
from dimmest recollection.
My sisters tried desperately to pull me into the forest,
far from the house, but I refused their invitations to play.
Likewise, my father burned me where he dwelt upon my

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