Story 124: The Midnight Visitor
It was a chilly autumn night in the small town of Willow Creek, where the streets were empty, and the only sounds were the whispers of the wind through the bare trees. Old Mrs. Turner sat in her creaky armchair by the fireplace, the flames casting flickering shadows across the walls of her old, dusty living room. She lived alone, ever since her husband had passed away years ago. The only company she had now was the old grandfather clock that stood in the corner, its steady ticking filling the silence.
As the clock struck midnight, a strange noise broke the quiet. It was faint at first, like the rustling of leaves, but it grew louder, more distinct—a scratching sound, coming from the front door. Mrs. Turner’s heart skipped a beat. She wasn’t expecting anyone, especially not at this late hour.