The Wardrobe Scratching

The ticking of the clock on the nightstand was deafening in the silence of the night.

Maria couldn't sleep. She tossed and turned, her eyes fixed on the dark ceiling. Then she heard it:

a faint scratching coming from the wardrobe. She froze, her heart pounding

wildly. She tried to convince herself it was just the wind, or perhaps a mouse.

But the noise became clearer, more deliberate. It sounded as if something,

or someone, was clawing at the wood from the inside. Maria pulled the blankets up to her

chin, trembling. She didn't dare look. The scratching stopped.

An even deeper silence fell over the room, a silence thick with terror. Then,