**Note to self: no more writing creepy stories while alone in a strange house late at night. Even if it does turn out to give good inspiration.** 

I didn't have time to ponder Molly's strange answer. We had come to the end of the long hall, and as we stood before another enormous door, she gripped my wrist with white-knuckled fingers. "Once I open this door, not a word out of you," she whispered.
I felt a little shock of panic. "Why?"
"You're clearly an outsider." She gestured to my clothes: a light floral dress that contrasted with Molly's heavy black one so that we looked like a finch and a crow standing together. "And outsiders are not often well-received."

**Based on a dream I had a few nights ago...**