The Mimic Script — -nightmare-

– the footsteps stop directly behind him. Warm breath on his neck. But the breath smells like dirt. Like something that was buried and forgot to finish rotting.

Tonight, it's on the floor.

He looks up.

Nothing there.

Not at him. At the well.

Then, after ten seconds of absolute black:

Coming closer.

Three figures stand perfectly still beneath a dead cherry tree. A woman in a tattered kimono. A farmer with a hoe. A child holding a torn paper umbrella.

It's open now. Wider than a jaw should go. Inside, there is no tongue. No throat. Just a second face, small and pale, whispering something Kaito cannot hear but feels in his molars.

Then Kaito feels two hands on his shoulders. Gentle. Almost kind. The hands of someone tucking a child into bed. -NIGHTMARE- The Mimic Script

Kaito runs.

He turns.

"You carry your father's limp. Your left knee. You hide it well. But I watched you sleep in the cave. I learned it. Watch." – the footsteps stop directly behind him

But her mouth has.

– a lantern being lit. Footsteps. One heavy. One dragging slightly.