. . .

The girl scrambles back against a utility pole. She huddles there. She looks around, but that doesn’t work out for her. She huddles her head in her hands and screams instead.

The wires are cut. They lash about her. They give the air to lightning.

Scissors slice her shoulder. A spark catches her pants on fire. She is going to die.

In the sky above a hungry pair of scissors has sighted her. It snaps its jaws and it hungers to kill her. It comes screaming down to stab her, right through the skull, and cut her open; and here is the end of Emily: one. Two. Three.

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