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She first appeared to me as a glint of a memory, that petrifying, horrifying, terrorizing, woman. It all began with a sentimental memory from my childhood, buried deep within the most sacred annals of my mind. As I resummon the memory into view, I suddenly recall a towering, sickly thin, and ghastly woman gazing intently, yet passively at me from the background. She wasn’t there before in all of the countless times I’ve retreaded this memory, and yet I can’t help but second guess myself. Perhaps she was always there, or am I simply going mad? It must be the former. I’m sane and grounded, after all. As my weeks trudge on, this confabulatory mischief intensifies, and I can no longer deny her existence, at least within the extents of my own mind; the intrusions transition from gentle pricks to conspicuous prods, and then finally to inescapable stabs. She is creeping into other memories, and her face seems to grow more vivid. I begin to obsess over her in every waking hour and, as the