Eyes are the windows to the soul, they say, but at this abandoned asylum the windows are the eyes for a thousand tortured, captive souls.
She knows her gift renders her vulnerable, so she skirts the building cautiously, steeling her mental defences to malevolent forces which, seemingly sensing her proximity, surge in frenzied agitation.
Quickening her pace, she stumbles over an errant tree root, before pitching headlong to lie stunned upon the ground.
That brief lapse is all that’s needed; the wait is over. The channel opens, allowing the legions to spill gleefully through.
And now madness walks the world.
My considered explanation after scanning the daily tabloids each morning. Thanks to Rochelle for hosting Friday Fictioneers every week, a rock of sanity in a world that seems to get stranger, more cruel and lawless with every day. Rant over. 😦