0302 Volts

I awoke this morning to the familiar, arrhythmic clanging of antiquated pipes, a sound that once drove the sane mad and drove the mad (yours truly) to a peaceful slumber. I've recently been having dreams, nightmares that until the morning after Thanksgiving I could not remember.

At dusk, terrible shrieks apparently echoed through the halls of the Manor. My brother saw that I was awake, and we went downstairs for the annual lighting of the Christmas tree, a majestic and immortal (plastic?) Douglass fir. The Christmas lights buzzed, stunned by electric current, and then suddenly, a seemingly disconnected sonata, reminiscent of a Schoenberg composition, banged from the pipes. I always knew my sister would come back; she wasn't dead, simply dormant.

Weakened, she could only physically manifest herself as electrical current, and then flowed through the conducive metal pipes -- her favorite mode of travel. My horrific visions are crystallizing; she will regain her strength.