Chapter 18: Wet footsteps

Music Recommendation: What have we done to each other? Trent Reznor

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Sylvester's hand trembled as a sense of foreboding crept over him. Hastily, he snatched his comb from the nightstand and clutched the burning lantern tightly as he followed the faint footprints out of his room.

"Who's there? Show yourself!" Sylvester's voice echoed through the apartment, competing with the relentless drumming of rain outside. His heart hammered in his chest as he traced the footsteps, leading him to the kitchen.

For the umpteenth time, his kitchen seemed to be the target. What was it about his pots and pans that attracted the intruder? But as Sylvester stepped into the kitchen, the footsteps abruptly ceased, sending a shiver down his spine. Was it really a ghost? With cautious steps, he combed through every corner, peering under tables and beds, but found no trace of an intruder. He prayed fervently that the unwelcome visitor had fled his home.