Rushed footsteps
They switched on their nightstand lamps, straining to listen. For a few moments, silence returned. Then came the unmistakable sound—rushed footsteps, heavy and hurried, echoing somewhere deep within the house. Arthur grabbed a flashlight, his face pale with tension. Rose wrapped herself in a blanket and followed, every muscle tight with fear. They stepped into the hallway, shivering as a cold draft brushed past them. The house at night was colder—colder, and somehow alive.
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