It was a stormy night, and Sarah sat huddled by the window, watching the rain pour in torrents against the glass. The wind howled through the trees, making eerie sounds as if the forest itself were alive. Her parents had gone out, leaving her alone in the old house on the edge of town.
Suddenly, a loud knock at the door echoed through the house, making Sarah jump. She hesitated, wondering who could be out in such weather. She crept to the door, peering through the peephole. There was no one. Her heart raced. The wind must have made the sound, she thought, trying to calm herself.
As she turned back to the living room, another knock—this time from the window. Her eyes darted to the side. There, in the darkness, a shadow moved just beyond the glass.
She backed away, fear clawing at her chest. The power flickered and then went out, plunging her into darkness.
Footsteps, soft but unmistakable, crept along the floorboards above her. Sarah’s breath caught in her throat. She was alone… wasn't she? The footsteps stopped. Silence. Then, a cold whispering voice drifted down the stairs, “Sarah…”
Her heart pounded as the whisper repeated, growing louder, closer. She ran to the door, but it wouldn’t budge. The whispering voice was at the top of the stairs now, and Sarah could hear a faint laughter, not of a child, but something darker. The air grew colder.
With one last surge of panic, Sarah yanked open the door. The hallway outside was empty. But then she saw it—a shadow, tall and unmoving, standing in the corner, watching her with eyes that glowed faintly in the dark.
The storm outside grew louder, but inside the house, everything was still… except for the soft, echoing laughter.
