The radio is broadcasting a choir singing an inverted hymn.

The radio is broadcasting a choir singing an inverted hymn.
I found a thick line of black ash along the threshold.
The pantry door was wide open when I turned around.
A pair of eyes flashed from the dark space under the stairs.
The TV screen flashed a blurred face through the static.
The midday light makes the corners of the room look too sharp.
The television just broadcasted a live feed of me sitting in this room.
The window pane shattered inward in the shape of a handprint.
The smell of a stagnant swamp is getting stronger in the room.
The sound of fingernails lightly dragging across the drywall.
THE TELEVISION IS BROADCASTING MY LATEST NIGHTMARE IN REAL TIME.
Something is shifting in the darkness of the utility room.
I heard a muffled knock from inside the chimney stack.
The air feels thick, like water.
I found a puddle of water in the middle of the carpet.
I saw a pale hand slip down from the attic access panel.
A shadow darted out from under my blanket and ran up the wall.
The shadow of the coat rack has grown an extra limb tonight.
The lights flickered once during the brightest part of the day.
A soft knocking from inside the wardrobe.