The Thing in the Hall by Christine Betts

I woke suddenly, not really sure what had startled me. I felt uneasy; all of my senses were on full alert. I listened; all I could hear was the usual traffic noise and the soft hum from the aquarium filter.

What was that? I could hear something. It wasn’t loud and it stopped and started. It almost sounded like something being dragged along the passageway. I was alone. Nobody should be in the hall. I froze. Should I get up, confront who or whatever was out there? I sat up and then lay back down. I pulled the covers up over my head. I couldn’t hear anything now. That was even scarier. I needed to know what was happening.

I sat up again. I couldn’t sit here all night listening to the noise, waiting for whatever! I slowly stood up, thinking about what was to hand I could use for a weapon. My umbrella was in the cupboard. I slowly, quietly as possible, opened the door and retrieved the umbrella.

I listened. There it was again – shurrt – shurrt. I placed my hand on the door latch and pushed down softly and slowly, my umbrella firmly clasped in my other hand. There the noise again – shurrt – shurrt.

I slowly opened the door. I could see nothing in the dim glow from the street light. I flicked the switch for my bedroom. The light flooded the hallway. I looked up and down the passageway: nothing. I listened: nothing. Then I heard it – shurrt – shurrt. I looked down. A small piece of paper moved slowly on the wooden floor in the breeze from the ceiling fan left on in the living room. Shurrt – shurrt.