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“I tried to wake you up,” Maddy said, and her voice came from behind Isobel, too. From the hallway. From the kitchen. From inside the walls. “I buried myself in the dirt of the football field for one night. One night, Isobel. It felt like seven years. When I crawled out, you were gone. You’d changed your number. Moved to Portland. Started calling yourself a different kind of name .”
“Took you long enough,” said Maddy.
On the floor, nestled in the hollow of a vanished girl’s shape, the VHS tape lay cool and quiet. The silver marker had smeared. The label now read: “For the next one. Play when you’re ready to go home.” i saw the tv glow dthrip
She slid the tape in.
Isobel laughed. A nervous, small sound.
But she didn’t remember owning a tape. They’d never taped it. Their parents didn’t own a VCR.
Isobel felt the roots in her throat now. Not choking her. Filling her. Like she was a hollow thing, a scarecrow, and the house was finally putting back what it had lent her thirty years ago. “I tried to wake you up,” Maddy said,
Isobel tried to stand. Her legs didn’t work. The carpet had grown teeth—no, not teeth. Roots. Soft, fibrous roots pushing up through the beige synthetic fibers, curling around her ankles.
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