Casa dos Sonhos de Michael F. Flynn. Revista de ficção científica de Asimov, outubro de 1997.
In the basement stairwell, he found a flashlight as long as his forearm hanging in the space between the door and the wall...
He saw the woman again, this time in the master bedroom and late in the afternoon...
It was no style—either of clothing or hair—that he had ever seen. The hands that covered the woman’s face bore stains that might have been dirt or paint or blood.She was weeping.
Ted stood dumbfounded for a fraction of a second and the creature leaped!
Start with the woman; but look down the hall at the body twitching near the main staircase. A fine specimen of H. leonis, don’t you think? Sure, those leapers are lethal. Humans have always been top predator, and this particular breed has made a specialty of it. But you have to admire the grace and power, the lean, powerful lines. Thighs like pistons; claws like ten-penny nails! Even dead, it looked deadly. You had to admire, too, those eyes that chance had shaped to see another light. It may be that clawing your way between universes is no great feat. Universes are flimsy things; paper bags. It may be that you could do it yourself, if only you could see which way to leap.