No matter the spookiness of the story just told, my mind always makes it a million times worse. I’ve never seen hide nor hair of a monster in this house but every pop of the fire and every creaking floorboard has me jumping and jolting.

And I like to tell myself, “so what if it IS a monster? Or a ghost? Or something else I don’t understand? It might have been here for years and never once hurt anyone.”

… But that belief does not last long, and the fear returns with gusto. Are those footsteps I hear? Is that a figure in the shadows? Breath from above, scratching from below, eyes in the dark? But it’s the same old cosy house it’s always been.

… I hope.