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Inside the long-abandoned houses,
they begin to form and grow into a mass of
unyielding consumption and proportion,
and eventual immortality.
The masses stand neglected, angry,
hungry, brilliant, beautiful.
They take her inside.
Inside she is greeted with
the sight of what appears to be
her childhood home.
This was her home.
This was all taken in the flood.
This was all taken when the rain came.
One of her favorite spots was the woods
by her old house before they tore down
the trees to turn it into a seldom-used parking lot.
A favorite pastime of hers,
or maybe even a liminal space, if you will.
It was her place to smoke with the
few close friends she felt safe
enough to get lost with.
The masses that formed in her childhood home
and the childhood homes of her friends are
beginning to make her remember everything.
It all comes rushing back to her as she begins
to feel violently ill and collapses on the ground.
The masses take humanoid form and begin to
carry her up to her old bed.
She doesn't look exactly like the person
in all of the family pictures.
But there certainly seems to be a resemblance,
uncanny or not.