Why mama why?: Difference between revisions

I didn’t discern other features, except for scanty black hair, rather resembling a wig. I didn’t even understand what I was afraid of - the face or that was hiding over 2 meters of the wall and that my imagination visualized. My own wet hair on the back of my neck bristled and I tried to flatten myself against the small bath as hard as I could. I wanted not so much screaming as squealing to ease my fear. But I clenched my teeth that my jaw cramped. I had never felt such supernatural terror. The face looked at somewhere, pass me, as if enchanted with the view that it saw in the opposite “kitchen” window.

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