Chapter 12 - The Shadow at the Window
I kept the text message to myself, refusing to let fear dictate my life again. David moved into a small guesthouse down the street, helping me manage the legal transition of the foundation while being a wonderful, protective presence for Chloe.
Yet, the paranoia lingered in the shadows of my mind.
It was a rainy Tuesday night. The wind howled against the windows of our suburban home, rattling the glass panes. Chloe was fast asleep upstairs in her pink-themed bedroom, completely safe. I sat at the kitchen island, reviewing financial grants for the newly restored community health center funded by my mother’s trust.
Suddenly, the kitchen lights flickered.
Click. Buzz. Darkness.
A power surge? No. The refrigerator hummed, and the hallway light remained on. Only the kitchen overhead fixtures had died.
I stood up slowly, my hand instinctively closing around the handle of a heavy ceramic mug. I crept toward the dark corner by the pantry, my eyes straining against the dim light spilling in from the hallway.
Then, I saw it.
May you like
Pressed against the outside glass of the kitchen sliding door was the faint, ghostly silhouette of a face. Two hollow, staring eyes locked onto mine through the condensation.
Before I could scream, the figure raised a gloved hand and tapped twice sharply against the glass—tap, tap—before slipping back into the rainy darkness like smoke.
