Sarah pressed her forehead to the cold windowpane, watching as her parents unloaded boxes from the car. Every tree seemed to lean closer to the house, their branches scratching at the roof like eager fingers. Though it was afternoon, the clouds made it feel like dusk, shadows pooling in every corner.
Sarah wandered through the hallways, trying to ignore the chill that seeped into her bones. Her parents’ voices echoed faintly from the kitchen, but she felt utterly alone. She paused by a door at the end of the hall, noticing strange symbols carved into the frame.
Sarah sat curled on the couch, hugging her knees. The storm outside seemed to press against the house, each gust of wind rattling the glass. Suddenly, the TV screen crackled, and the picture warped to show a darkened hallway that looked eerily familiar.
Sarah clutched her flashlight, the beam trembling as she approached the door. "Mom? Dad? Did you hear that?" Her voice was swallowed by the silence. She pressed her ear to the door, heart pounding, and heard the whispering rise—a chorus of voices speaking in a language she could not understand.
Sarah staggered back, but the shadows pooled at her feet, cold and sticky as pitch. "Leave me alone!" she screamed, but the voices only grew louder, echoing through her mind. She glimpsed something in the corner—a figure, pale and thin, its eyes bright and unblinking.
Sarah sat at the kitchen table, trembling hands wrapped around a mug of cold tea. Her parents fussed over breakfast, their faces drawn and tired, as if they too had seen something in the night. "I want to go home," she whispered, but no one seemed to hear her. Outside, the trees crowded closer, and in the hush of morning, the house waited.
