Connor found the mask on a Tuesday, tucked behind his mother’s winter coats in the hall closet. It was smooth, white porcelain, featureless except for two small eyeholes and a faint, smudged smile that looked like it had been painted on by a child. He held it up, and the weight of it surprised him—heavier than plastic, colder than the dark around him.
Connor nodded. “Will you be okay?”
“What happens to me if I put it on?” Closet Monster
Then he was gone, a small gray blur slipping into the brighter dark of the hallway. Connor found the mask on a Tuesday, tucked
Felix was watching him with something like sorrow. “That bad, huh?” Closet Monster