Counting Breaths

The Elf on the Shelf was supposed to be fun, a harmless tradition,

a silly game, but this one... this one moved differently.

Tom noticed it first. Every inhale he took, the elf's head

tilted forward. Every exhale, it tilted back, as if it was studying the

rhythm of his lungs. He held his breath. The elf froze

instantly, mid-lean, hands stretched forward like claws. He exhaled,

and the elf snapped into a new position, closer. Tom scooped it

up and threw it across the room. But the lights flickered,