A Phantom

     She awoke at the witching hour and a December breeze crept through the thin windowpane. There was no moonlight. She shivered and goosebumps covered her body. She lit a white taper candle and climbed out of her bed to gather another quilt. Her nightgown swirled around her legs. The wood floor groaned under her weight. Her nightcap was loose. The wet night snuck into the room, lurking under the bed, slipping through the walls, sitting in corners where no one would dare look. The clock ticked on just as it had been ticking each night prior. The wind howled, but the air felt rigid. She could see her breath. A tap on the window. Creaking in the hallway. The night held its breath. She strained her eyes to see into the dark corners, for she was certain she was no longer alone. Frequently during endless winter nights, she felt a presence, and now she might see it, and she had to admit, she was terrified, for her candle had just blown out.