The witching hour. By Myrren

The hotel had a weird feeling to it. I lay in bed tossing and turning. I heard them before I saw them. Muffled voices, they sounded like they were coming from the wall. I peered at my watch that lay dead on the creaky bedside table. 3am. The witching hour I thought. A whirl of fear shot through my stomach as the voices got louder and louder. A burst of wind shut the door. My heart beat faster and faster in my chest. Two white shapes emerged from the wall. I pretended to be asleep but it was too late.


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