The Morning After

The first rays of dawn, usually a welcome herald of a new day, felt thin and cold seeping through Leon’s bedroom window. The comforting weight of his duvet did little to dispel the lingering unease that had settled in his bones overnight. He stirred, a soft groan escaping his lips as he shifted, and that's when he heard it. A faint, unidentifiable *thump-thump-thump* from downstairs. It was a sound that didn't belong, a sound that prickled the hairs on the back of his neck, a sound that whispered of the witch.

Jasmin, bless her usually sound sleep, was still lost in the depths of her dreams, her breathing soft and even beside him. Leon, however, was wide awake, his heart hammering a frantic rhythm against his ribs. He tried to dismiss it, to tell himself it was just the house settling, or a branch scraping against the window. But the sound persisted, a low, insistent beat that seemed to vibrate through the very floorboards.

He slipped out of bed, his bare feet meeting the cool wood. The urge to wake Jasmin warred with a deeper, more primal instinct to face whatever it was alone. He was the boy, after all, and perhaps he could be brave. He tiptoed to his door, his hand hovering over the doorknob. The thumping seemed to be coming from the hallway, closer now, and with a surge of adrenaline, he pulled the door open.