Chapter 3 - The Footsteps on the Porch
The scratching sound stopped abruptly, replaced by the unmistakable creak of old floorboards shifting under a heavy weight just outside the front entryway. David froze, lowering his phone flashlight so the beam illuminated the floorboards near the hallway rather than the door itself.
"Stay here," David whispered, his voice tense and commanding as he took a cautious step backward.
"No, David, don't open that door," Sarah pleaded, her grip on Lily tightening until the little girl let out a soft whimprung.
"We're miles from the nearest neighbor," David hissed quietly, his jaw set. "If someone is out there in this weather, they need help. Or... or we need to know who's on our property."
He crept down the short hallway, his heavy boots making no sound on the hardwood floor. The rain battered the roof overhead, but the ambient noise was suddenly pierced by a rhythmic, deliberate tapping against the glass pane of the front door. Tap. Tap. Tap. Three slow, methodical strikes.
David reached out, his hand wrapping around the brass doorknob. He turned it slowly, holding his breath as the latch clicked open. With a sharp tug, he pulled the heavy wooden door inward, thrusting the flashlight beam directly into the stormy night.
The porch was completely empty.
No footprints marred the freshly swept welcome mat. No person stood in the blinding sheets of rain driving against the porch railing. But resting directly in the center of the wooden threshold, soaked by the relentless spray, was a second white stuffed bunny.
David stared down at the object, his heart hammering against his ribs like a trapped bird. He crouched down slowly, extending a trembling hand to inspect the soaked toy. It was identical in every stitch, down to the small blue ribbon tied around its left ear—a custom touch Sarah had sewn into Lily’s toy three years ago.
"David? What is it? Who's out there?" Sarah called from the living room, her footsteps approaching cautiously.
"Nobody," David whispered, his voice hollow and detached. "Nobody is out there."
He picked up the soaked toy, the synthetic stuffing heavy with rainwater. As he stood back up and turned to face Sarah, a sharp flash of lightning illuminated the open doorway behind him. For a split second, standing right at the edge of the porch steps, was a small pair of muddy footprints appearing one by one out of thin air, marching straight toward the open door.
David slammed the heavy door shut, throwing the deadbolt with a loud, metallic click. He leaned his forehead against the wood, breathing heavily as Sarah stared at the dripping wet toy in his hand with wide, horrified eyes.
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"It's inside our head," Sarah whispered, her voice shaking violently. "Or it's waiting for us to answer."
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