10-1-04 A/N: A very trippy little piece I just wrote in the spirit of October. Reviews or con/crit needed, wanted, and worshipped.

The creature walked quietly into the room. It heard its own footsteps, although to the rest of the house there was only silence. The creature's skin hung loosely, covering a bare minimum of the rotted bones. It took no notice of the chilly autumn wind and closed the creaking door behind it.

A dusty desk, covered in dusty candles and picture frames. Children on swings and in Halloween costumes laughed and played between the half-melted waxes. One picture frame, the only one not obscured by dust, sits alone on the desk's corner. Whatever picture rested inside it has been removed.

The creature's bare-boned hands reach towards the frame, skeletal fingers clasping it. It lifted it and shifted position, as though hoping that the fading light would somehow show an image that was lost. None was shown.

A distant ticking of a clock caught the creature's attention. It was softer than a breath of wind, but to the creature, which sensed everything, it was louder than an orchestra, a deadly orchestra creating the slow music of time. The creature's half-gone face twitched and the ticking stopped.

Then the creature opened another door and entered the bathroom. Towels were neatly folded, none of them used. There was dust in the bathtub where there should have been water-marks. The cold air was too still.

Then the creature turned to the mirror, and a ghastly reflection appeared. The subtle lights illuminated the features; the decaying flesh, the bones poking through at the nose, the rotten teeth, the bloody veins that dangled from the creature's upper lip. But the creature did not see this in its reflection. All it saw was the pretty image of a young girl.