At the foot of the stairs, John was waiting. He was holding the stereo. The monster stopped halfway down the staircase, its eyeless turkey head staring down the device in John’s hands, as if recognizing the danger. Oh, how that Old Testament demon must have howled and shrieked at the sight of young David’s harp, seeing at work a form of ancient magic that can pierce any darkness. The walking meat horror knew what was coming, that the same power was about to be tapped. John nodded, as if to say, “Checkmate.” He pushed the “play” button. Sound filled the room, a crystal melody that could lift
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