The old clock read 11:57. Rain sheeted against the window, each drop a tiny fist demanding entry. The power had flickered twice already. Soon, the dark would come fully — not the gentle dark of bedtime, but the heavy, knowing dark that fills a house when every circuit fails.
Not wildly. Not loudly. But deliberately. I reached left, found the iron poker by the hearth. I stood, not crouched. I took three steps toward the hallway — not away from the stairs, but across the bottom of them, to the back door I had bolted at sunset.
I unbolted the door in one slow motion, stepped into the rain, and pulled it shut behind me. The cold was a sharp blessing. The dark outside was vast, but it was honest dark — sky and storm, not the small, waiting dark of a closed room.
I sat on the floor, back against the wall, listening. The wind played a low, unkind note through the chimney. And then — click. The last light died.
My heart told me to freeze. But a deeper voice, older than fear, whispered four letters: WDDM.
The old clock read 11:57. Rain sheeted against the window, each drop a tiny fist demanding entry. The power had flickered twice already. Soon, the dark would come fully — not the gentle dark of bedtime, but the heavy, knowing dark that fills a house when every circuit fails.
Not wildly. Not loudly. But deliberately. I reached left, found the iron poker by the hearth. I stood, not crouched. I took three steps toward the hallway — not away from the stairs, but across the bottom of them, to the back door I had bolted at sunset. The old clock read 11:57
I unbolted the door in one slow motion, stepped into the rain, and pulled it shut behind me. The cold was a sharp blessing. The dark outside was vast, but it was honest dark — sky and storm, not the small, waiting dark of a closed room. Soon, the dark would come fully — not
I sat on the floor, back against the wall, listening. The wind played a low, unkind note through the chimney. And then — click. The last light died. But deliberately
My heart told me to freeze. But a deeper voice, older than fear, whispered four letters: WDDM.