Wood cracks and splinters as the walls press in around you. Furniture topples, making way for more of the creature's slithering tentacles. They wrap around your limbs and pin you to the floor as the ceiling descends, warped and contorted. It is a pulsating organ, a stomach devouring its meal. Wood, caulk, and plaster enclose you as the house's rumblings dissolve into muffled gnashing.
Your senses are flooded with a surge of adrenaline, and you shake out of the thing's grip. Head pounding, you sprint out of the house as its doors slam open and shut like hungry mouths.