I sensed the presence of something else. The inside room of the Pit was a very strange room. With only one window - opening to the inside of our flat, and no view of the outside - it possessed a mood of staleness and abandonment. Mould was still creeping up the walls, a problem which had driven Tommy to live in the lounge instead of this cramped box; a problem the landlord still hadn’t resolved. It was a miserable prism. And now, the floor was a chaos of feathers. My amazement at just how many feathers are stuffed into a pillow was quickly squashed under the eerie sense that there was someone else in the room. I shivered. The Pit itself had grown a lot darker. Haunted, I was sure of it. Things had become strange and eery outside the feather room even; unsettling. I didn’t like to think what had happened in this flat before our coming, or what was at the bottom of the gaping hole to nothing that was caged just outside our front door. Whatever it was, it had stolen itself into our