Hi, thanks for taking my call. I'm not really sure how to start this, so I'll just say it straight. Something happened in my house the other night. I've lived there for eight years and nothing like it's ever happened before. I wasn't asleep. That part sticks with me. I was lying there, thinking about work stuff, unable to settle down. My husband was out of town for the week on business, and that's the thing, I was completely alone in the house. Then I heard a sound from downstairs. Not loud, just deliberate. Four taps, a pause, then a slow scrape. It sounded like someone trying to get my attention without waking the whole street. I thought it might be my dog. He gets restless sometimes, but it didn't sound like him. So I got up and went downstairs. hate being alone at night - Kieran' The moment I reached the bottom step, the air felt colder than it should've been. Not dramatic cold, just wrong. Like a door had been opened for a few seconds and shut again. My cat was in the corner of the living room, pressed so tightly against the baseboard she looked smaller than she is. Her back was arched high, and she made this deep growl I've only heard a few times in her life. I followed her stare toward the middle of the room, and that's when I saw it.
There was something crouched there. At first I thought it might be a kid, a really small kid, but it was wrong. Too thin, spine too sharp, arms too long. Its skin looked dusty, like the color of something left in an attic for years. It had one hand out toward my cat, flicking its fingers at her. Teasing her. Almost gentle. Then it turned its head toward me without moving anything else. Just the head. Slow. Smooth. When the face came around, it was grinning. Tight and small. I remember seeing these little teeth, dark like old wood. That detail stuck with me because they looked almost polished. My cat bolted under the couch the moment it saw me. The thing tilted its head just slightly, like it was curious, and then it moved. Fast. Too fast. It didn't run the way a person runs. It pulled itself across the floor in these sharp, low motions. I ran without thinking. I hit the hall table on the way, hard enough that something should've fallen, but later nothing was out of place. Maybe I imagined the impact. All I know is I heard the thing behind me. Not steady footsteps. Quick bursts. A scrape, then silence, then suddenly close again. Halfway up the stairs, I felt something brush the back of my foot. Cold. I keep telling myself I imagined it. But I don't think I did.
I got to my room, shut the door even though the lock hasn't worked for years, and I threw myself onto the bed. I pulled the blanket over my head before I even knew what I was doing. It felt stupid, but it was the only thing I could think to do. The house went silent again. Not normal silence. Heavy silence. Listening silence. I could hear my breathing trapped inside the blanket, and every second felt too long. And that's the thing, I didn't even think to scream. Then the door opened.[ Slow. Not pushed fully, just nudged. Like something small wanted to slip inside without making noise. I whispered for my husband to check the hallway, but he didn't answer. I heard its feet on the floor. Soft. Too soft for how fast it'd moved before. Each step was deliberate. The mattress dipped slightly, just enough that I knew something was on it. Then a finger traced along the outside of the blanket, right over my head. Slow. Careful. I held my breath. But I could still hear it breathing on the other side of the fabric. Light breaths. Calm ones. Too calm.
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