IN THE WEE HOURS
Charlie awoke in the dark and listened.
Was that...? Yes. Someone was crying. The sound was echoing down the hall. High-pitched, like a child.
Charlie couldn't be sure if it was a boy or a girl. He sat up and listened more closely. Not so much a sound of sadness as a whimper of terror, and so devoid of hope it tore his heart.
Not a real child, he thought. It's a spirit, a demon sent here to lead us astray.
He pulled the covers over his head and shivered in the warm darkness.