From over here, Evie says:
I would like to recommend “The Yellow Wallpaper” by Charlotte Perkins Gilman. It has to be my favorite short story… no matter how many times I read it it still gives me the chills!
To which Miette replies: your wish, my command, and about those chills, have you ever tried to read it aloud? It’s utterly skin-crawling. Of course, I’ve already read the Virginia Woolf story with a similar (though not -quite- as resplendent with crawling-skin heebies) narrative structure.
I was just the other day staring at the ceiling in my own bedroom, and could’ve sworn it was comprised really of thousands of cats, trying to escape the two-dee flatlands of the ceiling. And while at the time I attributed that vision to… the detritus of some decisions of my youth … given the evidence put forth by Woolf and Gilman, I’m in pretty good company for textured wall hallucinations. Anyone else ever stare at their walls until they go stereoscopic?