Narrator

I just locked it louder than necessary so whoever, or whatever, was outside would hear the finality."

For a long moment, nothing happened.

Then there was a sound on the porch steps.

Not footsteps, more like something shifting its weight.

Then, very softly, as if someone leaned close to the door to speak through the wood, the voice said, Okay, that was it.

No anger, no pleading, just acceptance.

Then the porch steps creaked again, and the sound moved away into the trees.

We stood there in the hall for a long time, listening.

Eric's face looked pale even in the low light.

Maddie had cracked her door open and was peering out like a child.

Nora's hand was still wrapped around my arm and I could feel her pulse through her fingers.

Eventually Eric whispered, that was a prank.

By who?

Nora whispered back.

Eric didn't have an answer, and that was the first time I saw him genuinely unsettled.

He's the kind of person who narrates his fear as a way to manage it.

That night, he didn't narrate anything.

We went back to bed, but nobody slept.

At some point near dawn, I drifted off, and the last thing I remember before sleep took me was the wind chimes outside, completely still, as if the air itself was holding its breath.

Day two was bright and almost aggressively normal.