Howling midnight wind; knocking from the front door.
Lifeless and walking.
The midnight storm batters a worn-down wooden cabin.
The family it shelters huddle together to feel the warmth of a flickering fire.
Their father hasn’t returned from his journey.
The knocking at the door weakens the fire.
A small voice yells “Is that father?”
Her response “No living thing walks in that kind of storm.”
The knock into a slam!
Rattling door and loosened hinges.