Saturday, March 9, 2013

100 Words a Day 209

He crept down the hall. His legs were chilled, inadequately protected as they were by his short nightgown. Hearing alert, each creaking step sounded like a scream. As he moved down the narrow corridor, the sounds of night drifted under cracks and through half closed doors, people shifting in their beds, snoring, confessing secrets in their sleep.

He froze, thinking he’d heard an out of place noise. He looked around, trying to penetrate the black, inky fog of night. There was no movement in the shadows. As his head slowly turned, he thought he heard a hissing from the darkness.

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