Tip-toe, tip-toe.
The boards barely creaked, but still she waited, for nothing. Nothing happened, the house was quiet. She’d just raised her foot when the shadows stirred, filling the hall with wooden creaks.
A rumbling chuckle and a gruff hiss as he walked across the room. She waited, clutching her bundle as she watched his shadow grow, then finally recede. A great thump as he settled back into his chair. Static, and a brassy voice calling for attention. She hurried past, safely drowned out by the T.V.
Outside the sky was bare, stars clear as day. She stepped out, feeling the soft snow under her feet. She took one glance back, at the flickering light, the home that never was.
The wind tugged at her cloak, beckoning. She stepped out, and it was gone. Lights lined her path, other homes, other windows, but no one saw, and she did not stop.
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