Chapter 3: Shadows in the Quiet

The night settled around Liora like a heavy, suffocating blanket. The streetlights outside cast long shadows through the windows, their flickering light barely enough to chase away the darkness. Inside her room, Liora lay wide awake, staring at the ceiling. Her mind refused to quiet, each thought racing faster than the last.

Her body was still, but her senses were alive, too aware of the stillness. The rhythmic ticking of the clock was the only sound, a harsh reminder of the silence that pressed in from all sides. She tossed and turned, trying to ignore the faint creaks of the old house, the whisper of the wind brushing against the window. But there was something else, something different in the air tonight.

A noise. A scrape. Almost imperceptible, but undeniable.

Liora’s heart fluttered, a shiver running down her spine. She lay motionless, straining her ears to listen. The house was too quiet—too still for comfort. The sound came again, faint, but closer this time. A soft shuffle, a gentle rustle, like something—or someone—was moving in the shadows.

Her eyes darted to the window, the room plunged in darkness save for the pale slivers of moonlight creeping in. She held her breath, waiting. But it wasn’t just the usual creaks and groans of the old house. This was different. This wasn’t the sound of the house settling, of the wind brushing through the trees. This was something... deliberate. Someone.

Liora sat up, her legs frozen beneath the covers. She could feel her pulse in her throat, her mind racing with possibilities. Was someone in the house? The thought made her stomach twist. But the house was quiet. Her parents were asleep in the next room. It was too quiet. It didn’t make sense.

Another noise, louder this time. The unmistakable sound of something shifting in the next room. Liora’s eyes widened. She slid out of bed, her feet landing on the cool floor with barely a sound. She moved to the door, the floorboards creaking under her weight, but it didn’t matter now. Every instinct screamed at her to stay silent, to stay hidden, but her curiosity—and fear—were stronger than her hesitation. She had to know what was happening.

Liora crept out into the dark hallway, holding her breath. Her hand trembled as it brushed against the wall, the silence deafening around her. She could see the faint outline of her parents’ door ahead, closed, the soft sound of their steady breathing from within. But it was the other door that caught her attention—the one that led to the backyard, the one facing the next house.

That’s when she heard it: the sound of a torch flicking on. The soft, eerie glow of light spilling through the cracks of the door at the end of the hallway. The low hum of footsteps. Someone was there. In the yard. And they were... shining a light into the dark, as if searching. Searching for something—or someone.

Liora’s breath hitched. Her heart pounded so loudly she was sure it would wake her parents. She stayed frozen, her body rigid with terror, eyes fixed on the door. Whoever it was, they didn’t know she was here. The house next door was empty for the moment—Liora remembered that clearly. The owner had gone on a trip, leaving the house abandoned for a few days. But that didn’t explain the figure moving around in the yard, flashlight in hand, moving from shadow to shadow with precision.

Liora’s mind raced. A thief. It had to be. Her pulse quickened, her hands shaking as she pressed her back against the wall, trying to steady her breath.

Without thinking, she moved toward the door to her parents’ room. She shook her mother awake first, her voice barely a whisper, a tremble of urgency in her words.

“Mom, Dad... wake up. There’s someone outside... I think... I think there’s a thief.”

Her parents stirred, half-awake, their confusion slowly turning to concern as the urgency in Liora’s voice cut through the haze of sleep. Her mother’s hand reached for the light switch, but the room stayed dim, the faint glow of the moonlight falling across their worried faces.

Liora’s father was on his feet first. His voice, usually calm and steady, was sharp with tension. “Call the police. Stay here. We’ll check it out.”

Liora’s hands trembled as she grabbed her phone, her fingers fumbling over the screen. But the words she was about to speak—telling someone about the intruder—seemed like an eternity away. It felt surreal, as if she were still stuck in some half-dream, her mind too clouded to focus.

Her parents moved swiftly, quietly through the house. They checked the windows first, the curtains parting just enough to peer outside. Nothing. But Liora couldn’t shake the feeling that someone was still out there, hidden in the shadows, waiting.

And then, just as they were about to leave the kitchen, Liora froze. Her heart skipped a beat. Through the crack in the hallway, she saw him—a figure in the dim light. But this time, it wasn’t just the faint glow of the torch. The figure was inside. In the kitchen. Moving silently, carefully, just out of reach of the light.

Her breath caught in her throat. Liora’s hand instinctively reached for the flashlight in her pocket, the light flicking on with a soft click. The beam cut through the darkness, and there he was, standing still, his back turned as he rummaged through the drawers.

Liora’s pulse raced. The thief hadn’t left. He was still here.

Her parents hadn’t noticed yet. She could see the figure clearly now—dressed in dark clothes, his face hidden in the shadows, his movements quick and deliberate. The light from the torch flickered again, briefly illuminating his face, but only for a moment.

Liora’s heart hammered in her chest. This was no longer just a bad dream. Her hands were shaking so violently she could barely hold the flashlight steady. She turned it toward her parents, but before she could make a sound, they moved again, walking past the kitchen, unaware of what lurked just around the corner.

Liora’s mind raced. She couldn’t let him get away. She had to do something. She had to warn her parents.

But before she could react, she caught something out of the corner of her eye—just as the figure moved across the room. He froze, sensing her gaze. She held her breath. The seconds stretched on endlessly. Their eyes met.

Her pulse felt like a drum in her ears.

Liora quickly flashed the light toward him, her heart stopping as she saw him staring directly at her. In that moment, his cold, calculating eyes met hers, and the weight of his presence made her blood run cold.

She swallowed hard. “Dad!” she whispered urgently, almost a cry.

Her father turned, his eyes searching the dark room. “What? What is it, Liora?”

But when he shone his flashlight into the kitchen, there was no one. The room was empty, the space silent again.

Liora’s breath caught. The thief had disappeared—vanished without a trace.

But she knew what she had seen. The thief hadn’t gone, and the terrifying thought that someone had been right there, in her home, lingered in the back of her mind.

As her parents exchanged confused glances, Liora stood there, heart pounding, the weight of the fear still pressing on her chest. She had seen him. But now, there was only silence.

And for the first time, she understood how much darkness could hide in the quiet of the night.

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