At first, it was only the sound of creaking floorboards that woke her from a deep slumber.  That certainly wasn’t anything out of the ordinary, as she did reside in what could politely be called an ancient house.  At the best of times, it was merely called derelict. In fact, the only thing out of the ordinary was the fact that she was awake.

She blinked sleepily, murmuring nonsense as she stirred in her bed, the delicate ghosts of her dream world fading in the dim, gray light of her room. She pulled herself into a seated position, eyes squinted as if against the dawn, as her fingers twined of their own accord into the disheveled locks of her hair.

She sat thusly for a handful of minutes, listening to the measured creaking, and she realized with an alarming surety that someone was creeping down the hall toward her room.

She inhaled sharply, the sudden breath hitching in her throat as she hastily kicked off her covers.  The wooden planks were cool to her bare feet, and she moved across them soundlessly.  She had lived in this house, this room, her whole life, and knew which boards would protest under her weight.

She moved to the door with utmost caution, the hem of her white nightgown whispering a threat about her calves. The fabric seemed to be asking her, Are you ready? You should wait…

“No,” she mumbled, pressing her ear to the door. Sounds filtered through, muffled and barely audible. The dishwasher changing cycles, the steady drip of water from the leaking pipe in the bathroom, and yes, that persistent creaking, which drew ever closer to her position.

She briefly considered throwing the door open and assailing the intruder. But with what? A nightgown that had been patched one too many times? Or perhaps with the slipper that lay idle by the window? No, she could do nothing but wait.

Wait she did, stepping back five paces to hunch on the floor. There were no hiding places in her room, her only hope would be to spring at the intruder and try to leap by them once they had opened the door. She felt oddly calm as she crouched there, head canted to the left with her long hair falling forth to obscure her vision.

She watched as the doorknob turned with agonizing slowness, muscles tensed as she prepared to leap to her feet. The door swung open noiselessly on its well-oiled hinges, and she felt her breath stick in her lungs as she waited to see who was there.

“Hello, honey,” whispered the older woman who stood framed in a rectangle of darkness. Her lips stretched into a sickeningly friendly grin. “I’ve come to take you home.”

She fell back with a sudden thud, and thoughtlessly, inexplicably began to scream.

It was the screaming that woke her. It took her mere seconds to realize that she was the source of the racket, and stifled the noise with a ratcheting sob. She stared wildly around the pristine, well-lit room, fingers scrabbling frantically for purchase in the white fabric of her sheets.

“A dream, a dream, a dream,” she chanted, rocking to and fro as she sought to regain her grip on reality.

They’ll be here soon to ask you what’s wrong…whispers, whispers.

“A dream! A dream, a dream.”

Tell them the truth; tell them what it was…

She nodded, stretching the sheets between her trembling hands as she looked up at the closed-circuit camera fixed on her bed.

“A nightmare.”