Dad would follow me around the house wearing an ugly, orange-haired monster mask. I knew he was just a man, but I screamed and cried and begged. He chased me anyway.
Two decades later, I scream and cry and beg in front of a television screen. They elect him anyway.
Alex Creece is the girl of your nightmares, swooping around menacingly in a blanket cape. Words have a tendency to explode from her heart like a chestburster. You can find more of them at creecedpaper.com.