It fits too tightly against the human bones. It's stretched over all but the teeth, which are left bare to be ground against each other. The face is ill-defined, mostly just slight hollows where the skin has been stretched over the eye sockets. There is no muscle or cartilige or fat for the skin to hold, so it constricts desperately about the skeleton.

It breathes ever so gently, just barely pushing up the skin around the area of the chest, rising and falling beneath the overlarge nightshirt.

The skin drags the skeleton across the room. It walks with overly long strides, hands hanging by its sides. It opens its mouth, the teeth seeming to hang in a dark void. It sways as it walks, step by step.

The only sounds in the little wooden cabin are its uneven walk, and the rain as it beats against the roof.

The scents of wet earth and of decay reach through the open window. A puddle sits beneath the window, spreading across the dark hardwood floor. The water shines with the light of the occasional flash of lightning.

The skin, even now, feels itself to be devoid of something it cannot name. Its nailless fingers drag across its face, its hairless head, its throat, and it... It feels the touch, but it still does not feel anything. And this feeling of nothing burns inside it. Empty, and hungry. Starved for... for...

It shakes its head violently, trying to dislodge the feeling.