Harp chimes resonated through the shadowy corridors of the lonely house, their ethereal melody interrupted once more by the persistent sound of the doorbell. It was the second hour and the fifth time this week.
"Just like clockwork," she murmured, a hint of resignation in her voice.
Suddenly, the chimes ceased, plunging the space into an unnerving hush. The silence pressed upon her, compelling her gaze toward the glowing digital clock on the far wall. Its bright numbers pierced the enveloping darkness, illuminating the room with a stark glow.
In a jolt of urgency, she propelled herself upright. The chimes had fallen silent for what felt like an eternity, but the unsettling aura lingered, suffusing the air with a sense of foreboding.
With a practiced determination, she slipped from her bed and padded downstairs, her steps muted against the cold hardwood floor as she set about securing the locks and doors. As always, she left the windows untouched—unopened, unbowed by the outside world, a reminder of the boundaries she had erected.
She methodically inspected the last lock, feeling its familiar firmness under her fingers like a steady heartbeat in the stillness. Satisfied that everything was locked tight, she turned to ascend the staircase back to the safety of her room.
But just as before, the weight of her routine was shattered. The air crackled with a strange energy, and before she could fully process her next move, she felt a sudden grip—a relentless force that whisked her up the stairs, the unmistakable sound of a lock clicking shut echoing ominously in the dark.
"Uh, uh, here we go again," she whispered to herself, dread mingling with disbelief as the shadows deepened around her.
