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Authors: Jonathan Auxier
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her head under the covers and plug her ears. But her parents had raised her differently: Ma and Da believed that if you suspected a monster was hiding under your bed, you should get down on your hands and knees and find out for certain. And if you were lucky enough to discover one down there—fangs dripping, eyes glowing red—you should be quick to offer him a blanket and a bowl of warm milk so he wouldn’t catch a chill. It was with this difference in mind that Molly put on a shawl and went upstairs in pursuit of the phantom footstepper.
The first thing she noticed was the wind in the halls. Large houses were often drafty, but this was something different altogether—more like a quiet storm. Molly thought she had latched all the doors and windows before bed, but perhaps she had forgotten. She held her hand over the lamp glass to protect its flame and continued up the narrow service stairs.
When she reached the main floor, Molly found the front door wide open, creaking back and forth in the wind. Dry leaves danced all around her. More swirled across the floorboards. She could see wet footprints glistening in the silver moonlight. “H-h-hullo?” she called into the shadows.
The shadows did not answer.
Molly cleared her throat to call again, but her words were cut off by the sound of more footsteps—
THUMP!
THUMP!
THUMP!
They were coming from upstairs.
Molly left the door as it was. She could not help but think of her brother’s story from earlier in the week about the man in the fog. Perhaps Kip really had seen someone. Perhaps it was a prowler, come to rob the Windsors. Molly wondered whether her lamp might draw attention. She set it on the sideboard and picked up the heaviest candlestick she could find, just to be safe.
She crept up the staircase, weapon clenched in both hands. Gusts of wind swept past her, pulling at her nightgown and hair. She reached the top of the stairs and heard a faint creaking sound. The little green door was open again, moving slightly in the wind. Molly felt a prickle of excitement. She walked toward the door, but then another sound stopped her—
Somewhere in the back of the house, she could hear voices.
Molly left the green door and went to investigate. She rounded the upstairs hall to find all the bedroom doors open, and from inside each room she could hear the family members tossing and moaning in their sleep—a gallery of bad dreams.
Mistress Windsor’s bedroom was at the end of the hall. Molly could hear the woman murmuring, caught in her own nightmare. She could hear the footsteps again—heavy and slow. Through thecrack around the door, she saw a tall shadow move inside, a shadow the size of a man. “Master Windsor, is that you?” she said as bravely as she could.
The footsteps stopped.
The wind stopped.
Her heart stopped.
Molly wiped the perspiration from her palm and adjusted her grip on the candlestick. She took a deep breath and inched toward the door. A howl split the darkness, and she felt a great burst of wind. The gust knocked her to the floor and swept along the upstairs hall. She covered her face as dry leaves skittered over her like bats from a cavern.
She heard a loud
slam
behind her, and the next moment, everything was still and dark. Molly climbed to her feet, trembling with fright. She felt her way along the wall until she reached the main stairs. She could hear no footsteps. The wind and leaves were all gone. The bedrooms were silent, and the front door was safely shut. The house was completely still. By the time she reached the bottom of the stairs, it almost seemed as if she had dreamed the whole thing.
Molly was about to turn into the service hall when a shadow caught her eye. There, lying in the middle of the floor, was something that hadn’t been there before. It was an old top hat, tipped on its side. Molly remembered Kip’s words. “A tall black hat,” he had said. Molly knelt down and picked it up. It was as real as anything she’d
The first thing she noticed was the wind in the halls. Large houses were often drafty, but this was something different altogether—more like a quiet storm. Molly thought she had latched all the doors and windows before bed, but perhaps she had forgotten. She held her hand over the lamp glass to protect its flame and continued up the narrow service stairs.
When she reached the main floor, Molly found the front door wide open, creaking back and forth in the wind. Dry leaves danced all around her. More swirled across the floorboards. She could see wet footprints glistening in the silver moonlight. “H-h-hullo?” she called into the shadows.
The shadows did not answer.
Molly cleared her throat to call again, but her words were cut off by the sound of more footsteps—
THUMP!
THUMP!
THUMP!
They were coming from upstairs.
Molly left the door as it was. She could not help but think of her brother’s story from earlier in the week about the man in the fog. Perhaps Kip really had seen someone. Perhaps it was a prowler, come to rob the Windsors. Molly wondered whether her lamp might draw attention. She set it on the sideboard and picked up the heaviest candlestick she could find, just to be safe.
She crept up the staircase, weapon clenched in both hands. Gusts of wind swept past her, pulling at her nightgown and hair. She reached the top of the stairs and heard a faint creaking sound. The little green door was open again, moving slightly in the wind. Molly felt a prickle of excitement. She walked toward the door, but then another sound stopped her—
Somewhere in the back of the house, she could hear voices.
Molly left the green door and went to investigate. She rounded the upstairs hall to find all the bedroom doors open, and from inside each room she could hear the family members tossing and moaning in their sleep—a gallery of bad dreams.
Mistress Windsor’s bedroom was at the end of the hall. Molly could hear the woman murmuring, caught in her own nightmare. She could hear the footsteps again—heavy and slow. Through thecrack around the door, she saw a tall shadow move inside, a shadow the size of a man. “Master Windsor, is that you?” she said as bravely as she could.
The footsteps stopped.
The wind stopped.
Her heart stopped.
Molly wiped the perspiration from her palm and adjusted her grip on the candlestick. She took a deep breath and inched toward the door. A howl split the darkness, and she felt a great burst of wind. The gust knocked her to the floor and swept along the upstairs hall. She covered her face as dry leaves skittered over her like bats from a cavern.
She heard a loud
slam
behind her, and the next moment, everything was still and dark. Molly climbed to her feet, trembling with fright. She felt her way along the wall until she reached the main stairs. She could hear no footsteps. The wind and leaves were all gone. The bedrooms were silent, and the front door was safely shut. The house was completely still. By the time she reached the bottom of the stairs, it almost seemed as if she had dreamed the whole thing.
Molly was about to turn into the service hall when a shadow caught her eye. There, lying in the middle of the floor, was something that hadn’t been there before. It was an old top hat, tipped on its side. Molly remembered Kip’s words. “A tall black hat,” he had said. Molly knelt down and picked it up. It was as real as anything she’d
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