I approached silently, inching along the escarpment so that it would not suspect my presence. The sounds coming from it were impossibly like computers made out of geese. I decided that the sounds were true, and that my ears were impossible, lying flat against my head as they do, quieter than light.
It turned and raised its wooden vine to strike me! And in that instant the wall and the doll were one: I saw in the secretive plaster of both the reflection of my own naked terror.
I turned—I will admit—and fled, for I am delicate, and wear my eggs on my breast. I am still fleeing—my whole being—a craving for flight!
But I cannot leave the ledge. Beautiful and terrible, that hard virgin my soul.