“I’ll tell me ma when I go home, the boys won’t leave the girls alone.” The blackness moved. A single cloudy tendril of the unmentionable mass above him scurried and flowed across the wall and down a column, reaching the floor and blackening out the light of the mosaics on the ground as it sped towards the human’s legs. He could hear the screeching only increase in pitch and severity as soon as the mass touched the floor. Handy didn’t increase his pace. He couldn’t. Whatever mystical effect the ritual enforced upon him wouldn’t allow it. He could only walk and sing and watch helplessly as the black mass advanced. “They pull my hair, they stole my comb, but that’s alright till I go home.” 