My husband doesn’t believe in ghosts, spirits, demons, all that mess. That’s why I didn’t want to tell him. I was sure there was something evil in this new house but I couldn’t stand the thought of him laughing at me, or worse, giving me that look that said he knew so much more than I did. So I powered through it, sure that I could handle a few nights of terror and that it would go away soon.
It didn’t. After a while it got brave, and it got closer.
Now it sat at the foot of my bed. Breathing so heavily. Growling, almost. Just a dark shape silhouetted against the dim light of our alarm clock. I wanted to scream but my throat was closed up like someone had packed wet sand inside.