Sarah's Secret Fear

The screen door whined its familiar, mournful song as Alex pushed it open, the late afternoon sun spilling in like warm honey. Dust motes danced in the shafts of light, illuminating the quiet interior of their small house. Benji trailed behind him, his usual nervous energy a little more pronounced today, his eyes darting around the living room as if expecting something to leap from behind the floral-patterned sofa.

"Mom?" Alex called out, his voice echoing slightly in the stillness. He dropped his backpack by the hall table, the worn canvas thudding softly against the wood. "We’re home."

Silence answered him. Not the comfortable, lived-in silence of an empty house, but a taut, waiting silence, like a held breath. Alex frowned. His mother was usually in the kitchen by now, humming along to the radio, or at least somewhere he could hear her. She’d been a little… off, lately. Not in a bad way, exactly, but a sort of jittery, preoccupied way that had started a few weeks ago, around the same time the whispers had begun to take root in Blackwood Creek.