Dingos Surrounded the Baby, but Something Older Watched From the Ridge

Wind in the Nursery

It was nearly 2:17 a.m. again when Clara woke to a strange sound of fabric rustling, steady as breath. She padded to Elsie’s room. The window, which she had shut and latched earlier, now hung open. The curtains swayed inward, not outward, though the wind outside had died. Elsie was asleep with her stuffed possum.

Her lips moved faintly, repeating that same unfamiliar chant. Clara stood frozen, heart thudding. She secured the window and sat by the crib until morning, notebook in hand. She wrote down every word Elsie whispered, convinced each night brought something closer. Something was listening.

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