Drawing her feet up under the stiff white cloth of her nightdress, Elena shivered as a cold draft pierced through the flimsy bed coverings. Looking around the small barren room, she wished that she had more than one small candle to penetrate the oppressive darkness that seemed to press in around her, stifling the light.
Another cold draft whispered by her, causing the small fragile flame to flicker dangerously and her breath to hitch in her chest. She knew that the light wouldn’t hold out for much longer and dreaded the moment when the shadows would close in on her.
She knew she must be imagining things, fear causing her mind and heart to race as the ethereal projections on the wall wavered eerily. Surely, there was no figure cast other than her own, the smoke-like fingers reaching from the blackness to grasp at her a trick of the waning light. Closing her eyes, Elena reached out beyond the small circle of light, touching the darkness with shaking fingertips.
And the shadows touched back.