Cold (is the Uncovered Grave)

Arabella knew by the pounding of her heart what would approach her.

Every day for three nights, at three in the morning, three chimes from the clock would hail the freezing sigh. A quiet breath, followed by the crackle of frost like so many insects chattering from beneath her door. The pale fog seeped in, not from the window, but from the hallway just outside.

She knew it was the phantom come again.

But this night, she was braver. This night, she dared sit by her door, and dared to question. As the frost moved in like a living being, lacing over her bare feet and making her jolt from the cold, she listened for him. The door rattled as she moved. Outside, the quiet phantom stood still.

"Spirit... will you continue to haunt these walls in such an aberrant manner?" She whispered, deeply curious.

From outside, the being hesitated. Cold waves of fog rolled in, heavy and thick as summer clouds- clouds just before a storm.

"Dear, aberrant child... do you want me to?"