The wind rattled the windows in their panes. A tree branch was scrapping somewhere along the side of the house. Somewhere, in the depths of the house, they could hear the wind howling through nooks and crannies in the walls. The floorboards in a room on the floor above creaked as a weight moved across them. Door knobs began rattling violently, as though being shook and twisted from the other side of the door.
Henley gripped Adam’s arm. “Do you still think it’s just the wind!?” she hissed.
He shook her off. “Stop it! You’re going to get yourself all worked up.”
“Just turn on the light,” Henley exclaimed.
Click. Click click. Click click click click click click. Clickclickclickclickclickclickclickclickclickclickclickclickclick.
“It’s not working,” Adam finally said.
“You don’t say,” Henley said with a harumph. She rummaged in the dark in the drawer of her beside table. Her fingers brushed a matchbook. Pulling it out, she pressed it to Adam’s arm. “Here,” she hissed.
She heard the small snap as Adam pulled a match free from the book. A scratching sound as he attempted to light it.
“Shit,” Adam whispered, “I dropped it.”
“So get another one!” Henley hissed once more.
Another snap, another scratch followed by another, and then pfoof as a small burst of light ignited at the end of the match.
The shadows wiggled around the room in the small, wavering light of the lit match. As Adam panned the meager light across the room, they saw that everything looked normal.
Until they got to the bathroom door. It was bouncing off the wall, as though it had just been pushed open. A shriek sounded from the other side of Henley and the match went out.
Inktober 2022, Prompt #7: MATCH
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