Neef’s Rules for Changelings The smell was the first thing I noticed. Foul, cold, and unnatural, it made my eyes water and caught at the back of my throat. I’d never smelled anything quite like it, not even when a squirrel died in the Castle basement. I coughed and breathed through my mouth until I got used to it enough to notice other things. Like the cold. And the dark. And the humming. Soft and even, it vibrated in my skull, buzzing a little, like a snore. I quickly started to run through the ten identifying signs of a closet monster, but couldn’t remember any further than number six (the smell of old socks). Well, whatever it was, it was better for me to find it than for it to find me first. I began to explore. The floor was hard and cold. The wall at my back was clammy. Over my head, I found a row of hooks with cloths and wooden poles hanging from them. One pole had bristles on the end: a broom. Another pole ended in damp, sour-smelling ropes that made my hands feel greasy and dirty: a mop.
