1212 Starling Circle

It was just when Leigh had settled in for the night, his socks tossed aside, feet nestling under the covers of Uncle Bam’s giant double-king bed when he started hearing sounds.

The first four or five were probably just the old house settling, but after that, he began to wonder.

Even the will had made a joke about ghosts. “Spirits and specters of the house” he’d called them. Whatever. No such—

The distinct, strident sound of a chairs legs dragging across wood flooring whined from down the hall.

He froze. Suddenly the covers provided no warmth from the draft. Leigh knew, logically, that it was, again, nothing but considered calling out. If it were a robber, that could scare them away. Or lure them closer. Decisions.

Leigh moved to stand up from the bed, march down the hall and prove that nothing was there but— stopped when he saw the white shadow drift past the crack in the door.

Off that, Leigh rolled over, pulled the covers over his head like a hood and slept. Robbers be damned.

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