Shadows In the Home
The house felt different now. Not because of any structural change, not because of noise or damage, but because the atmosphere had shifted—thicker, heavier, tense in ways that could not be articulated. Amara felt it the moment she stepped through the front door, the subtle prickling sensation of being watched, even though no one was there. Her chest tightened as she hung her coat, trying to shake off the unease. “It’s nothing,” she whispered to herself, though the tremor in her voice betrayed the lie. Michael, too, noticed it—though he would never admit fear aloud. He brushed it off as stress from work, long hours, and the incessant responsibilities of keeping the household running. But even as he tried to dismiss it, the hair on the back of his neck prickled with uncertainty. Something
- Writer
