The Whispering Closet

Ever notice how silence can sometimes feel louder than noise? Tonight,

the silence in my apartment felt… wrong. Oppressive. Then,

a soft, deliberate scratching started. Coming from *inside* my bedroom closet.

My heart seized. It definitely wasn't my cat, I swear. It sounded like

long, dry fingernails. Slowly, methodically dragging across the wood

from the other side. I couldn't breathe. The scratching suddenly stopped. Then,

a tiny, wet sniff. Right there, directly *under* the closet door.

And a voice, thin as paper tearing, whispered, "I smell you."