“Now!” shouted Oak, and we all rushed in, forming as much of a box as our mismatched mirrors would allow. Oak darted around us, trying to cover the gaps with foil.
“Red and yellow...” a child's voice began to sing, but no ordinary child, the sound of an old scratched record, crackled and slow, a voice locked in a nightmare of childhood, the most disturbing voice I'd ever heard.
“And pink and green...” The voice terrified me, a younger me within responding...I so wanted to just hide. “Orange and purple and Blue...”
“Hold the box” Oak shouted. “If we keep it contained, we're safe.”
