Featureless faces gather in the deepest, darkest corners, their bodies silhouetted by silver droplets of the moon. A raw surge of panic eerily crawls across my flesh, terror eats away carnivorously at my vulnerability. Spirits of the unrecognisable dead come forth sometimes alone, or in a cluster of three or more. They wait for recognition from me, whether in words or as I slither back under the duvet. Either one satisfies their urgent craving for contacting an unfortunate living relative whose ‘gift’ of sixth sense is like a radar to those across the other side,