Ghouli looks through a mirror above the fireplace, through a living room and beyond into the kitchen where the family eats. A father, a mother, a daughter, a furry thing lapping scraps at her feet. Forks and knives clang against ceramic plates. Ghouli is hungry too. The furry thing has stubby little legs, low to the floor. It run-waddles to the fireplace. It can’t see itself (nor Ghouli) in the mirror high above, but it barks anyway. How does it sense Ghouli’s presence – the smell? Ghouli can only smile for so long before it requires a new texture to gnaw between its teeth. All appendages raise in unison to punch through the mirror. SMASH!
At the same time, the father accidentally knocks and spills his beverage across dining room table… the mirror cracks at the impact, but does not shatter. A commotion at the table, everyone distracted. But, the daughter spins to stare at Ghouli, only the daughter.
Oh, that pretty face! Ghouli likes a pretty face.
A peak further out the mirror, a piece of broken glass falls to the carpet. Ghouli’s ectoplasm drips in globs onto the mantle. Too loud, the yapping is too loud. That furry thing is too loud. It must be quiet, Ghouli must be unseen. Eyes unflinching Ghouli stretches one slimy appendage. So close, Ghouli is so close. Just one bite so fast, so quick, Ghouli could have the fuzzy thing.
What is that? With one slick move Ghouli retracts its arm. Instead it wraps around some kind of rectangular animal, bright and shiny.
Content with its catch, Ghouli sucks itself back into the mirror, coveting its treasure.