She sat, frail and exhausted in the darkened room. The fireplace called to her, it’s dank hearth frowning at her backside. She wouldn’t even risk a single, glowing ember – she couldn’t. Not with the lingering shadow that perched mere yards from her frosted window, undaunted by the snow and immobile – as if it would wait for her forever. She couldn’t pull her eyes away from it, and it stared back at her in the darkness as if it knew she was there.
VICKI SWEETS 
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