As Emily crept through the kitchen, every creak of the floorboards made her flinch. Her flashlight cut through the dim light, casting long, wavering shadows on the walls. She paused near the doorway to the living room, straining to hear any sound—but all that met her ears was the faint hum of the refrigerator.
She forced herself to take another step, gripping the table leg tightly. The shuffling noise returned, softer this time, coming from the corner of the living room near the old staircase. Emily froze, her pulse quickening, but she refused to retreat. “Alright… no more running,” she whispered to herself.
Slowly, she approached the source of the sound, careful not to make a sudden move. As she neared the corner, her flashlight revealed a small, dusty box she hadn’t noticed before. The scratching intensified—this time coming from inside the box. Emily’s hands shook as she knelt down and gently lifted the lid.
Inside, a tiny family of mice scurried about, clearly disturbed by her intrusion. Relief washed over her in a wave so strong she could almost laugh. “Oh… it’s just you little guys,” she murmured, setting the box aside and feeling a mix of exasperation and amusement.
Emily took a deep breath, finally allowing herself to relax. The house, while old and creaky, wasn’t haunted—just inhabited by tiny, unexpected residents. She set to work carefully mouse-proofing the area, realizing that the strange noises that had tormented her nights were nothing more than the subtle signs of life she had overlooked. For the first time in days, the house felt calm, and Emily felt a quiet triumph.