When Charlie Ross complained that there was something creeping around his room at night, he was chastised by his son for trying to inspire guilt. Guilt for having moved so far away with his family. Charlie tried to protest his innocence. That at night he genuinely did see a shadow appear in the corner of the room, diminutive at first but growing into the shape of a small human in a short space of time. Always in the same corner of the room and always at the same time of night. Midnight. The routine was eerily predictable. Charlie would often cry himself to sleep, isolated as he was now that his son lived abroad. He would then wake, stirred by an unknown force in time to see it manifest, wandering his room aimlessly before directing its attention toward him. Prone as he was under the covers like a terrified child. His nerve broken he would turn on the bedside light as it reached for him, only for it to disappear.