10 August 2026
Monday. The older me has opened a third house, in Melbourne, on Collins Street. Three houses! I have one. She doesn’t even write.
The grown-ups say the computer in Melbourne calls hers just Possession, with no The. I expect she dropped it on the way. She was always careless with her things.
Nobody in Melbourne can visit me, though. To see where it all started they have to come to Perth, to Lake Street, up the stairs, through the dark, to the nursery. It is a long way to come for one little girl. I am worth it.
Tonight’s group asked the Ceiling Voice whether my house is as frightening as hers. The Ceiling Voice said hers is meant to be worse. I won’t write down what I did after that. Margery saw. Margery won’t tell.
— Cathy (please come back)
