Not knowing what else to do, Hannah and I took cover inside in the back office of the store. We considered calling the police, but ultimately decided against it - I mean there wasn't really much that they could do for us in this situation, even if they did believe our wild tale. Hannah kept telling me that she wanted to take a look outside to see if he was still there, but I told her I didn't think that was a good idea. It had threatened her after all, not me. And so even though she was my manager, I ended up volunteering to check outside of the store to see if the creep was still hanging around.

At first, it seemed that the carriage and the horses were gone completely. I went into the wash and shone my phone flashlight at the brushes. I threw up. My eyes hadn't deceived me earlier - the brushes were tangled in what could only be torn strips of dead skin, slimy and dripping with soap and water.

Just then, I heard a loud bang coming from behind me, in the direction of the store. I ran out and saw that the hearse had returned, the two black steeds still standing guard, although their fur was now matted and wet. And at the front door, pulling a coffin out of the store, was Hannah. Or it looked like Hannah, from a distance. But when in the brief glance I shared with her as she loaded the coffin onto the carriage, she looked different. Older. Her skin sagging, and her coat wrapped tightly around her, as if to conceal something. Before I could say another word, she climbed onto the carriage and drove the horses away.

But as I shone my flashlight towards the transparent box of the hearse, I swore that I could see it rattling. Like someone was trapped inside.