“The giant mouldy screen on Molly’s bedroom ceiling began to twirl and swirl in on itself. A black vortex emitting an overpowering stench of decay and mould began to drip from the ceiling like a hellish stalactite. Molly’s pitiful sobs cut to a sudden gagging halt in her throat as her child — her thing — oozed from the ceiling, descending down through the whirlwind of blight, sending Molly Greene into heaving hyperventilation.”