HAUNTING
The first night was the worst. Or, at least, the most unsettling.
I had reached that time in life where I could no longer go through an entire night without at least two bathroom visits. As I dried my hands off afterwards, I suddenly became aware of a sense of foreboding. It was hard to describe, there was nothing specific that I could put my finger on, it was just a feeling that something was different.
As I was staying in a rented cottage far off the beaten track, my imagination was apt to run away with me from time to time. Being a writer of horror fiction, my mind was forever exploring new and more twisted ways of telling a story, and as such, it did not usually take much to plant such a seed in my thoughts.
For a second, in my half-asleep state I had to remind myself that
