The shadow self is what lies beneath the makeup. It’s those ugly parts that you haven’t accepted about yourself. You hide those parts in the shadows until you’re ready.” Her face remained a haunting calm. “When you realize the scars are who you are, that there was nothing wrong with you and that you were beautiful all along – that’s when you decide to take the makeup off.

There’s nothing wrong with you at all. Sometimes people say or do things that are mean because there’s something the matter with them. With Lydia, it seems there’s always something wrong with her.

I wondered whether you and Mr. Locke had any recollection about the past.I see now that we all suffer the same.

Look Samuel!” She points to the couple—I noticing a twig sticking out of her hair. “Mannequins.

Her eyes sparkle with a rising dampness. “I’ve seemed to overstep myself,Samuel.

Yes—and had we one, you’d probably never see us at all.” Mrs. Locke adds jokingly.Emily pulls ecstatically against my clothing, a new found joy in her eyes.“Samuel! We must find a piano for the Lockes! It is the very least we can do!

Cry no tears for us, my friend.” I pry at her fingers, panicking to be released in fear that she may drag me into death with her. She croaks again, “Lend no aches to the dreams of yesterday.” From the corpse of Warren, his greyish gums smack from whatever goo has settled in his mouth, “Allow the tide sweep free the bay.” Then together they sing in zombie choir, “And home the ships sailing send.

That’s a stupid name! Whirly-gig is much better, I think. Who in their rightmind would point at this thing and say, ‘I’m going to fly in my Model-A1’.People would much rather say, ‘Get in my whirly-gig’. And that’s what youshould name it.

I rouse Emily to our guests, as she finishes off our fifteenth snowman by setting the head atop its torso. She stands limp at my direction, pointing out the coming shadows and I cannot help but hear a muffled sigh as she decapitates her latest creation with a single push of her hand.

She leaves my side and heads deeper intothe apartment singing, “—if the spirit tries to hide, its temple far away… acopper for those they ask, a diamond for those who stay.