It was the fourth evening in the chilly, run-down apartment. As the sun settled, the man began lighting the peach scented candles in the living room, one by one. He was trying to focus on the wind whistling through the distant trees, until he was disturbed by the unusual smell of tobacco once again. Frightened, the man wanted to run away, look for help, as he knew another never ending night of distress was approaching. Instead, he kept his composure for his wife because the last thing he wanted was to spook her.
In the bedroom, the woman sat down attempting to read The Cosmopolitan magazine she had bought earlier in the day. She made it halfway through but could not continue to ignore the disembodied footsteps coming from the dark, grunge closet. Thud….thud….thud…. thud. The woman convinced herself each thud was getting louder, more strenuous. Chills crawled up her back as she sat alone in the quaint room. She did not feel alone. She felt squeamish. The woman hoped that her husband would come back soon as she only felt a sense of comfort when he was with her. Distraught, the woman sat on the bed preparing herself for another terrorizing night.
It was the fourth night in the chilly apartment, and the lights began flickering on and off. The newlywed couple both knew exactly what was occurring in their new house, as the signs were all present. However, neither of them ever spoke of it. Instead of addressing the daunting cases each night, the couple lived in unnerving silence until it was too late.