It’s 3:19am. I’m downstairs, awake, with the cats and the dog. I’m reading The Exorcist. The last time I read it was seven years ago, at college, and I got some pretty interesting looks for it.
Regardless, I’m near the end, only 30 pages away. So I’m camped out, determined to finish it.
Except there’s noises.
And drafts.
And the pets keep staring at nothing.
I’m about to make a salt circle and line the doors with it.
Not paranoid.
Or have an over-active imagination.
Or, most likely, the house is haunted.
Salt circles. Lining the doors.
And there was another thud.
My Little Obsession 