The Friday 56 for 8/5/22: Composite Creatures by Caroline Hardaker

This is a weekly bloghop hosted by Freda’s Voice.

RULES:
Grab a book, any book.
Turn to Page 56 or 56% on your ereader. If you have to improvise, that is okay.
Find a snippet, short and sweet.
Post it.

from Page 56 of:

Composite Creatures by Caroline Hardaker

The house already felt different.

We’d taken down our meagre Christmas decorations the day before (we’d only hung them up so the house looked festive for the party), and though the place felt lifeless now and drained of colour, that wasn’t why it was odd. The passageway seemed lighter and the doors further away, as if I was psychically stretching out into every room on alert for sharp things or towers likely to fall. I was a thousand eyes cast across the floor and tingled with electricity, ready to release a bolt.

I dropped the folders at the bottom of the stairs and flung my soaking boots on the shoe pile. Art and I gave each other a look and then began to walk the mile up the stairs, Art balancing the box carefully in his arms. My hand kept slipping on the bannister, and either because of nerves or the cold, I couldn’t feel my feet.