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hearing either a retreating creature or maybe some panting. Anything that would solve the mystery and allow me to return to my warm, body-shaped dent on the bed. I could hear nothing, though. No breathing, no sighing, no panting.
    In the time it took for me to blink, the scratches began again, fiercer and faster, like knives stabbing the wood. The sound rose higher until it reached where my ear had rested seconds before.
    I considered screaming. My mouth opened, but no sound flew out. The cold clutched at my voice.
    I couldn’t explain what happened next, all I knew was that I felt a pulsing slightly above my ribcage, like a low drumming that rose, spreading a rhythm that chanted of warmth and strength. It poured out my panic and refilled my body with tranquility.
    I lifted my hands to my eyes. My fingers felt so hot I was sure there was something wrong with them, but no, they looked just like always: a bit scuffed, but reliable. I felt dizzy, and my limbs threatened to collapse in a pile around me. So I did the only thing I could think of, I gripped the doorknob and yanked the door open.
    A gust of winter air surrounded me, and I tore at it with my hands, flinging it off me like torn spider webs. The cold seemed to be sucked out of my room, and I could soon breathe again without the stabs of air against my fumbling insides.
    A weakness scurried up my legs and I had to grip on to the door. I concentrated on staying upright as I pressed my hot forehead to the tranquil wood. As with the two previous times, the spell soon passed. I stepped out into the corridor, but it was empty and quiet, not a single light staining the floorboards.
    My breathing was too fast, too shallow.  I had to slow it down or risk fainting, which, after what I’d just heard and felt, was not the wisest idea. Clutching my shaking hands together, I concentrated on slow, even breaths. It had just been an animal , I told myself. As much as my mind resisted it, it was the only explanation. Unless I’d gone and truly lost my mind.
    By slow degrees, I got myself back under control. As tired as I felt, I knew sleep would not return that night, so I pulled my Bible out and lit my lamp. Wrapping the blanket tightly around me, I buried myself in the pages. I waited for the comfort of my father’s voice to still my thoughts and fears, but it never came.

    Ten
    I mentioned the previous night’s disturbance around the kitchen table the following morning. By that time, I had managed to convince myself of my own fright’s silliness. I’d checked the door as soon as the sun had trailed in on dim footsteps and had seen nothing on the entirety of it. I made an effort not to allow myself to quake at a single night of lost sleep. I spoke of the incident in the lightest tone, a layer of laughter anchoring the words as I uttered them.
    The room, however, stopped in its tracks. Everything and everyone around me appeared to stop breathing, hearts paused in mid-beat. The silence drew my eyes up from my coffee cup, allowing me to catch a look exchanged between Ms. Simple and Dora.
    Ms. Simple cleared her throat. “What type of scratching did you hear, Anne?”
    “It sounded like an animal asking to be let in. Are there any dogs or cats in the manor?”
    Dora shook her head. Her hair was so resplendent, it seemed to have the sun nestling in its folds.
    “There are no pets in the house,” she said.
    “It could have been rats,” I said.
    “Could be.” Ms. Simple paused. “Just in case, Anne, make certain you bolt your door before you sleep.”
    My mouth went dry, an aftertaste of burnt coffee on my tongue. “Ms. Simple, why should I lock the door? If it was a rat, it couldn’t possibly reach the doorknob, let alone turn it.”
    I looked over at Mr. Keery, who had remained silent throughout the entire meal. His eyes were not on me, but I could see an intricate system of red threads tangling around his eyeballs.
    “Mr. Keery, what do you think? Could it have been